The wood was cool on his skin as Harry rolled his face against the table ⁠⁠— with a hand on an open book, of course, so he couldn't be accused of doing nothing.

He had decided to just skip dinner tonight and continue hiding here, but he would definitely need to stop by the kitchens later. He'd already eaten the sandwich he'd taken with him a few hours ago, and he would need more food before night. Harry wasn't looking forward to confronting the kitchen without Dobby's exuberant presence, but that was a problem for when he got to it.

The library was as usual on a weeknight: several students (mostly Hufflepuffs) crowded around tables in the back to study together quietly, and a few others from various houses scattered around or wandering the stacks.

This was good for Harry, because if he chose the table he was currently sat at, he could tell easily if someone he didn't want to talk to (which was everyone) was approaching. He wasn't sure what he would do if they approached, but at least he could see. The group study tables were in front of him, and the entrance to the library was to his left, so pretty much everything (besides some spaces between the stacks and alcoves) was in his view.

This was, of course, provided he was actually looking, he realised, as he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder. He lifted his head and his spirits sank. Ginny.

It wasn't that he didn't like her, or that he didn't appreciate her company just as much as Ron and Hermione's in theory, it was just that firstly, she was another person, and secondly...well, he'd just left her hanging without any answers. He felt bad that he'd never addressed the situation, but quite honestly he had just never felt up to it.

The discussion would be complicated and messy, because he had promised that he and Ginny would get back together after everything was over, and he still loved her but he didn't know how to have a relationship anymore. It seemed like so much effort, and he never wanted to be around anyone anymore; and he doubted Ginny would react well to her boyfriend constantly avoiding and ignoring her...just as he had already been doing. They weren't technically together anymore though, he was just avoiding the conversation.

Unfortunately, Harry couldn't very well pretend he didn't notice her right here, and it was looking like he might actually be forced to interact with her again. Wonderful.

"Hey Harry," she said gently.

She had every right to be angry, but Harry supposed she had gotten the memo that he wasn't functioning well and was treating him delicately. Not that he needed it. He was fine, and he wished she would just yell at him for being a terrible boyfriend or something already, but it was clear she wasn't going to today.

"Hi Gin," he sighed.

"How are you doing, back at Hogwarts?" She sat down in the seat next to him and faced him, adopting an interested expression. She had always done that when she knew he wanted to brush an issue off so that he knew she was really listening.

"It's alright," he answered hesitantly. "Sucks having to do schoolwork again, but it's also kind of nice to be back, you know? Besides all of the reminders of dead people, that is," he scoffed.

Ginny was quiet for a moment.

"Yeah, I understand that. How are you doing with all of the people? I know you were all closed away this summer, so that's a big change."

"I don't like it, but I can deal with it. People pretty much leave me alone, it's just Ron and Hermione really that are too much."

"Really? You guys don't really seem to have been hanging out that much."

"Yeah, but it's been multiple days with me seeing them multiple times each day. It's kind of a lot when you compare it to not seeing anyone ever," Harry's tone became a bit sharp.

Madam Pince shot him a warning glare at his volume, and Ginny surprisingly backed down instead of getting fired up by his agitation.

"I suppose that's true. I think it's good for you to be around people again. Getting used to being around your best friends more often again is a good step."

"When did you become a master of advice? Maybe I don't want to get used to it because I don't enjoy it anymore."

She scoffed.

"Alright, you know I'm not trying to be high and mighty. I'm trying to help, and I'm pretty sure I'm right. You think you don't like it because you've gotten used to isolating yourself and you refuse to open yourself up and allow yourself to enjoy company anymore. I gave you space because you wanted it, and frankly I needed it to work on healing some of my own wounds. And I'm going to continue doing that, but I'm not going to completely remove myself from your life⁠⁠—"

"That's⁠—"

"Just let me finish Harry," she sighed. "I'm not a fool. I knew things wouldn't just magically be wonderful after the war was over. It's a war. I knew our relationship wouldn't be easy, and I'm not surprised you avoided the issue like you always do ⁠⁠— and I'm not blaming you," she added quickly, before he could protest. "I don't expect for us to just get back together and both of us to spontaneously be okay, that's not what I'm looking for.

"You are one of my best friends though, Harry, besides having been a couple ⁠— which I do hope to again ⁠⁠— but being your friend is more important now. You don't need to be afraid of my company because you think I'm going to try to force our relationship. I'm going to give you space, but I will still find and talk to you occasionally, and I want you to feel like you can be comfortable hanging out with me if you need someone."

"Er, okay."

"Just as verbose as always then?" Ginny grinned.

Harry gave a small smile at her joke.

"Thanks Gin."

"I'll let you alone now then." She stood and patted his shoulder before leaving the library.

Harry rested his forehead back on the table and began mulling over the conversation.

It hadn't been so bad, he supposed. Ginny had been incredibly understanding, but he still couldn't help but wish that she had been angry. That would have made it much easier to just push her away with everyone else.

Now the question was how to sort out his thoughts, because strangely, she had changed some of them.

Part of his brain was quite tempted by her offer of spending time with just her in quiet. The other part continued to insist stubbornly that he didn't need or even want anyone. He was enough company for himself, thank you very much. However he knew that wasn't quite true. As much as he had always liked to spend time on his own, he did need his friends, and he was still relieved that they chose to spend time with him (even if he didn't really want them to). But he also did want to. He was conflicted over pretty much everything involving other people. Which meant the easiest answer was still avoiding everyone.

He groaned aloud because he knew he didn't really think that, and decided to push all issues away for now into the back of his head. He would do work. Opening his bag, he looked through for the piece of parchment on which he had written his assignments for the week. Deciding any assignment was as good as another, he chose at random. Transfiguration essay, then ⁠⁠— two and a half feet on the differences between transfiguration of inanimate and animate subjects.

After carefully setting out a roll of parchment, his inkwell, quill, and textbook on the table in a clean row, he went to the stacks to find some relevant books. He scanned the titles in the transfiguration section, not sure what might contain relevant information. Impatient, he began grabbing books at random, figuring some of them must contain at least a little on the subject. Once he had amassed about twelve, he hauled them back to his table.

"Ow!" Several things had painfully struck his feet and legs.

Harry looked down to discover he was no longer holding the books. He looked back up at the table, which was scarcely a metre in front of him, and his shoulders sagged. He hadn't even felt himself drop the books ⁠- his hands had just sort of...let go without his consent or direction.

Making no move to pick them up, Harry simply glared at the offending objects. It wasn't really the fault of the books themselves that they were on the floor, but Harry also kind of felt like it was. He knew it didn't make sense, but he continued to glare at the books, wanting them to know what they'd done.

With considerably more pomp than he could ever remember having performed an action before, Harry gathered the books and put them primly on the table with the rest of his things. He pulled his chair out and sat down harshly, blowing out air and trying to gather himself back together. He opened the first book on top of the stack and checked for an index. Right, of course there wasn't one ⁠⁠— that would be too easy. Really not wanting to do actual work, he let his eyes wander.

A few Hufflepuffs at a table nearby were glancing at him a bit strangely (likely because of his odd reaction to dropping the books). He glared at them and looked the other way; not because he disliked them or really even thought they were being rude, he just wanted to discourage them from interacting with him in any way. That included looking at him.

Harry let his eyes wander through the rows of shelves, as most of his looking options had been taken away by those Hufflepuffs. He saw something shiny out of the corner of his eye and looked to see Malfoy.

His blonde hair was reflecting the light obnoxiously. Fantastic. Harry ducked his head down and absorbed himself with the book. He didn't need Malfoy to see him, as the only two interactions they'd had so far this year had gone very badly in Harry's opinion, and he thought he'd be content with never seeing the other boy again just to avoid the awkwardness.

It didn't take long for Harry to lose himself in the work of research and writing, and the next time he looked up, the library was much emptier, and it appeared to be quite late. Checking the time, he discovered that he should probably get back to Gryffindor Tower before curfew. He had nearly finished his essay, and figured he only needed a few ending paragraphs, which he knew generally what to write for. As he gathered his stuff and headed back, he thought cheerfully that at least he hadn't been interrupted by anyone whilst he was working. His stomach growled loudly, cutting off his thoughts. Shite. He'd never eaten.

He stalled on the staircase, debating whether to just go up to his dormitory and stick it out or go to the kitchens and risk being late for curfew. The staircase made a deep rumbling sound and began to move. Well that settled it. Harry began heading back down the stairs to the kitchens; he hadn't made it far anyway.

As soon as the portrait of fruit swung open, Harry was bombarded with polite greetings from the house elves. When he explained that he had missed dinner, the overly concerned elves quickly brought out several platters of meat, potatoes, steamed vegetables, and bread rolls. It smelled delicious, and Harry thanked them and dug in exhuberantly, but cautiously. If he ate too quickly, he'd feel worse than if he hadn't eaten at all.

Realising this, Harry sighed through a mouthful of potatoes. That meant he'd definitely miss curfew. Whatever, it didn't really matter so much anymore ⁠⁠— was he really going to get detention for being out half an hour late? Even if he did, it would be fine. Really, it might even be a nice way to fill up time away from other people.

It was close to an hour before Harry decided he'd eaten enough. He thanked the house elves again and walked back to his dorm, not bothering to look out or be covert. He was slightly disappointed when he finally entered the common room and had not been stopped a single time on the way. Regardless, he hazarded a guess that he was not supposed to want detention, and it wouldn't have taken up much time anyway. He continued up to the dorm room, and was surprised to open the door to a wash of noise.

There must have been a muting charm on the door, because he hadn't heard anything before, but Harry was definitely hearing it now. He appeared to have walked into a spat between Dean and Seamus. Unfortunate, he thought, considering how close they'd always been. But they'd be fine ⁠— arguments were inevitable in a friendship like that.

Harry awkwardly shifted his weight for a moment in the doorway, and they both stopped yelling when they noticed him.

"Er, hi," he said awkwardly. "I'll just..." he scurried to his bed and shut the curtains, quickly casting a silencing charm around his bed. It didn't matter that he was trapped under his bed hangings, it wasn't like he was going to bed and needed to change or anything. He hadn't seen Ron or Neville, he realised, and wondered where they'd gone. Maybe he'd walked by them in the common room? If he had, he wished they would have gotten his attention and warned him.

Harry had long lost himself to thought, when something jostled the curtains of his bed. He peeked his head out of the curtains to see Seamus and Dean stumbling across the room. At first he thought they had devolved into a physical brawl, but no they were...kissing. Oh. Harry ducked back inside the safety of his curtains. He didn't know how to feel. Was this a new thing? He supposed it must have been, or otherwise they would have told him, right?

He put it out of his mind and decided to stew about any number of other things for the rest of the night. Eventually, of course, his mind made its way back to his conversation with Ginny in the library. He didn't really want to be around anyone, but at the same time he was starting to feel quite lonely. If he could just sit with her alone and be silent, that might not be bad at all. Maybe he'd try and see, and if it wasn't nice then he simply wouldn't do it again. Maybe.

Perhaps he should put that matter aside for now as well. He wondered if Ron and Neville had ever come back. Harry figured he'd been spaced out for a few hours at this point and ended the charm around his bed. He heard snores and even breathing filling the room. Definitely four people.

Harry lay back and, having gone through everything else in his head, he began sorting through the effects of the war that he was responsible for, and how much he still needed to pay. None of it really made sense ⁠⁠— how could he quantify what exactly the payment should be for the loss of one life and how those payments may differ? And yet he did.

He lay there thinking it all through, making estimations for those he wasn't sure of, and deciding how to pay: pain, of course. He decided he could pay for one life a day, depending on who they were; some lives may take more than one. Harry welcomed the wax as it began to drip down from the top of his bed curtains. Basking in the deserved misery, his brain flooded him with the scathing voices of several of those close to him who had been murdered, of Voldemort, and of several Death Eaters all accusing him of being careless and callous, and only thinking of saving himself.

This continued on, with Harry half wanting to defend himself but also knowing that he deserved it, until Ron jerked open Harry's bed curtains.

"Ron?" Harry blinked at the sudden light.

"Harry. I didn't see you at all yesterday after classes! Where did you go off to?"

"I just did some work on an essay," Harry muttered.

"Yeah, well that's not quite like you. You could've at least told us," he said, sounding hurt. "And did you stay up all night again?" he added, taking in Harry's fully clothed state and glasses.

"Well maybe people change, Ron. It's like me now in any case. And sorry, but if you haven't noticed, I've been trying for more space lately, yeah?"

Ron just sighed, refusing to rise to the bait.

"Did you stay up again?" he repeated.

"So what if I did?"

"Harry, mate, you need to sleep."

"I can't."

"Whatever. You wanna go to breakfast?"

Harry looked around and noticed all of the other boys were already gone. It must have already been somewhat late.

"I've got a free period in the morning. I was just going to stay here," Harry responded, still holding onto his aggressive tone.

"Will you drop the act Harry? There's no way you're that angry all the time ⁠⁠— I get it, you want us to leave you alone, we know, but you being angry all the time is tiring"

"Fine, whatever."

"Come on, can't we just be mates like always, but just hang out less often or something?"

"I'd like to, but things aren't 'like always' anymore."

"Yeah, I know Harry, but that's why we've got to work toward⁠⁠— you know what, nevermind. I don't wanna argue right now. What's up?"

"What's up?"

"Yeah. I mean, how are you, what's happening, what's up?"

"Er, I dunno. Same as usual I guess. Thinking."

"Okay."

"What's, er, what's up with you?"

"Not much. Hermione's usually talking my ear off fretting about you, but I'm trying to get her to realise it's not gonna work to force you to do what you don't want to."

"Thanks," Harry's shoulders, which he had unconsciously hunched, relaxed. He was quite grateful to Ron, who really didn't have to keep being such a good friend to him, but apparently did anyway.

"Erm, last night..." Harry brought up hesitantly.

"Yeah? You mean Dean and Seamus' screaming match?"

"Yes, I suppose. Are they um...I saw them kissing?"

"Okay? Great. Why are you telling me that?"

"Are they, you know," he made a vague motion with his hands, "together?"

Ron gave him a strange look.

"Yes? Harry, are you serious?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Mate, they've been together since Sixth Year."

"What?" Harry spluttered. "Why did nobody tell me?"

"What do you mean? It was so obvious. I'd been expecting it for ages."

"But...wasn't Dean dating Ginny Sixth Year?"

"Yeah? They got together after he and Gin broke up. Man, I hated them together. She never listened to me though. Clearly Seamus had fancied him forever, and Dean was always leading him on, and then he got together with my sister ⁠⁠— just a mess."

"So you knew all of this?"

"Merlin, Harry, it was all right there, nothing was a secret! I guess you were always just wrapped up in your head though. A lot was happening then." Ron grew quiet.

"Well...I suppose you should go down to the Great Hall before you miss breakfast completely."

"Yeah, okay. Well, I'll see you in Defence Against the Dark Arts, then?"

"Sure," Harry nodded.

It seemed Harry had missed quite a lot over the years. He wondered what else he had failed to notice. Now that he thought about it, he couldn't remember ever noticing much that didn't directly pertain to him or whatever the Problem of the Year was.

Merlin, he was incredibly self-centred, wasn't he? No, he'd just had a lot to deal with...but then, that was really no excuse. And he hadn't always had something important going on. He supposed he could just add the fact that he'd never paid attention to anyone else to the list of things he should pay for. Maybe paying attention to the things around him could have been the key to sparing more people.

He succumbed again to letting his thoughts eat at him until it was time for his one class of the day. He wearily rolled out of bed and trudged to class, barely noticing the new teacher and failing to pay attention to the lesson.

The entire lesson, Harry just existed in a blurry space. Everything around him was blurry, sounds were blurry, even his thoughts were blurry. The lesson slipped by and he registered somehow that it was over and managed to make it back up the several flights of stairs, through the portrait, and to his dormitory. His things slipped from his hands to the floor, and he collapsed on his bed, already falling asleep.