A/N: 

This chapter is NOT COMPLETE, it's only 2/3 the way done.

⁠—

Harry awoke to his own growling stomach, and groggily tried to find the time. Huh, he'd slept peacefully right through dinner. He thought it was probably just happenstance, but it was still a nice surprise that he'd been able to have a proper sleep.

Instantly, he felt guilty for thinking that; he knew he didn't deserve it, and avoiding his punishments was the worst thing he could do, considering all he'd done to deserve them in the first place. One of his punishments was never being able to sleep, and never sleeping peacefully if he did happen to.

Even though he felt guilty, another part of him wanted to sneakily continue avoiding everything, and maybe get some sleep. Somewhere, he was craving normalcy (whatever that may actually mean), and it made him want to just internally wipe the past and move on starting from the present.

Perhaps there was a way to get rid of the guilt without being a terrible person. Maybe if he talked to Ginny... it couldn't hurt to talk to one person, and it seemed that if anyone was to understand, it would be her.

Harry got up and ran a hand through his hair, trying to think of how to find Ginny. He quickly washed his face and got dressed, deciding that the common room was at least a place to start. As he headed toward the dormitory door, however, Neville walked into the room.

"Oh. Hey Harry."

"Hi Nev," Harry mumbled, keeping his eyes on the floor.

"How're you doing? You seem a little...off."

"I'm fine, thanks," he tried to brush past his roommate quickly, but Neville grabbed his arm to stop him.

"You know, if you ever need to talk, I'm here. Or if you need a quiet place to be alone, I found quite a few last year that I could show you?"

Harry's voice softened. Neville was so kind, and he was willing to share his secret hideouts. The ones he'd only found out of necessity during the horrible things he'd been through during Seventh Year. Harry thought to himself how selfish he was. As many ghosts (both literal and figurative) and horrid memories as this castle held for him, those who had been here through the last year ⁠— and especially Neville, who had stepped up and taken the brunt of many punishments ⁠— must have incomparably more. But of course, Harry knew he only ever thought about himself, only ever assumed he was the one who had it the worst.

"Thank you Neville. Really. I might take you up on that later."

The other boy looked surprised, but immediately tried to hide it.

"Of course, see you later then?"

"Sure." Harry started to leave, but quickly turned back. "Hey Nev, would you happen to know where Ginny is?"

"Oh, um I think I saw her in the common room playing Exploding Snap."

"Thanks." Harry left the room without looking back, therefore not noticing Neville looking slightly mystified, but much more optimistic.

He descended the stairs to discover that Ginny was indeed playing Exploding Snap, but with Dennis Creevey. It wasn't that he was afraid to face him (Harry knew he'd be nothing but kind, as he had been on the first day), but he was ashamed. Dennis made him feel all kinds of guilt, which was exactly what he was trying to avoid right now.

Taking a deep breath, he decided he could and would do this. He only had to quickly get Ginny and go somewhere where they'd be alone. He strode over and tapped her on the shoulder, avoiding looking at Dennis.

"Oh, hey Harry!" She looked up brightly. "We're just playing Exploding Snap, do you wanna join?"

"Er, no thanks," he choked out, still trying his best not to look at anything besides Ginny (specifically, her right ear). "Could I talk to you in private? Er, if that's okay," he added, not wanting to seem demanding.

"Alright," she brushed some ashes off of her lap and stood, addressing Dennis. "I'll see you later then?"

"Sure, bye!" he responded cheerfully. "Bye Harry!" Dennis waved at him, and he reluctantly waved back.

"So where do you want to go?" Ginny asked, turning to Harry as he slouched toward the portrait hole.

"Just somewhere quiet." He had been thinking maybe back to the dungeons, but it didn't feel right to bring Ginny there for some reason. "Fifth floor," he said after a pause, remembering a spacious alcove behind a tapestry in one of the corridors.

"Alright then, lead the way," she swept her hand dramatically toward the staircase.

When they'd finally settled down on the bench in the alcove, Ginny ventured another question.

"So, did you actually want to talk, or did you just want some quiet with company?"

"Quiet."

Harry had drawn his knees up to his chest, and sat in foetal position, trying to keep his mind clear of the more insidious thoughts. He vaguely wondered if it was even possible to stop thinking of them for more than a few minutes.

He looked over at Ginny, who was idly flicking her bottom lip as she stared vacantly at the back of the tapestry. Thinking that she seemed pretty absorbed in her own thoughts, Harry decided against asking her about the whole situation. Bothering her would be unkind after she had gone out of her way to be so nice to him.

"You know, you can say something if you want to," Ginny spoke, making Harry swallow guiltily. She was just too observant. He still didn't want to burden her with the things going on in his head; she had enough to deal with on her own.

"Remember I reached out to you. You're not being a bad friend by sharing with me."

Harry breathed out a heavy sigh. Of course she would say that because she was a good person, but that didn't mean it was true. He would do it anyway though, because he had always burdened other people with no regard for how it affected them.

"Is there a way to get rid of all the rubbish in my head, do you think?"

"Well that depends," Ginny responded patiently. "You can't get rid of everything, but you can get rid of certain types of thoughts, maybe. What exactly do you want to fix?"

"Everything," Harry laughed humourlessly. "I'm not sure. I know what generally, but it's hard to tell where it ends. It's like these thoughts infect everything, and I feel guilty even trying to get rid of them, because I feel like they should be there. They make me feel better in a way, because I feel like I'm fixing things a little bit, and making things more even ⁠— but it's just so nice to have a break."

"You realise you're going to need to explain a bit more in order for me to understand what in Merlin's name you're talking about?" Ginny asked wryly, when he sat back as if done.

"It's hard to explain, I don't know quite how to describe any of it." His shoulders slumped.

"Maybe you could start with what kinds of thoughts they are exactly?"

"I dunno. Negative?" Ginny gave him a disparaging look, and he continued. "It feels weird to try and tell someone about it. They're just, er, you know...going over the war, and even before that. Since I came to Hogwarts, but especially the war because that was where I did the most damage. I just sort of go through everything I caused, and what I owe ⁠— you know, how much damage I caused."

"And how does that make you feel like you're making things fair and even?"

"Well, I don't know exactly everything I caused, and whom it affected and how much, but some of it I do know. For the rest of it I make estimates. Either way I determine what I owe, and I...pay. Usually for something new every day. It usually takes several times a day."

"But how do you pay? I don't get how you could 'pay back' whatever lives or anything you think you owe?"

"I just kind of...estimate how much pain it's worth?"

"What in Godric's name are you doing to yourself, Harry?!" she asked angrily. That, at least, proved to Harry that this had all been a conscious effort on her part to be calm and patient with him as he'd suspected.

He shrugged.

"My brain just goes through it and then the wax comes and I just sit there in it, letting myself pay."

Ginny closed her eyes and seemed to collect herself.

"What wax? Do you get a candle or something?"

"No it's just...er, I suppose it's in my head, but it seems real. It's just this red wax that comes dripping down and covers my entire body, and then everything is just pain. It's kind of peaceful once you get used to it."

"Being in constant pain is peaceful?"

"Well when you say it like that⁠—"

"Harry, did you never consider that this might be some sort of hex put on you? Or a side effect from too much Dreamless Sleep potion?"

"Would it be absurd if I said I never thought of either of those?"

"No," Ginny sighed. "Pretty much what's to be expected of you. I think it's a hex, personally, and I'm guessing it's a Death Eater that got away."

"Hold on, just because I never thought of it doesn't mean it's true. Why would someone want to lay such a petty hex on me? It isn't as if it would help anything. The war is over, and not everything's about Death Eaters."

"Harry, it's the most logical explanation."

"No it isn't. And I've never heard of a spell that does anything like this." Harry crossed his arms and tightened his features. He was not backing down; he refused to deal with anything relating to Death Eaters again.

"Fine. We can talk about this again later. Back to the actual thoughts."

"What else is there to say?"

"Well, When does it happen? Do you notice anything causing it?"

"Whenever. All the time. I can't think of anything in particular that could cause it if it's happening pretty much constantly."

"I guess that's not very helpful then." She thought for a moment, before asking slowly, "Do you...you don't have to answer if you don't want to, but do you ever find yourself enjoying it? I know you said it feels fair, but do you ever want it sometimes?"

Harry was silent for a while.

"I'm sorry. I was just trying to figure out more about what exactly is happening here, but I didn't want to make you too uncomfortable."

"No, it's...it's fine. I just......don't know."

"You don't know?"

"I don't know if I want it sometimes. It's all so...it's hard to describe. I don't know."

"Okay."

They fell into silence once more.