Although Harry had calmed down significantly since his Aunt's arrival, there was still a ball of mixed emotions taking up permanent residency in his stomach. Every time he thought about it, he felt angry, then guilty for feeling angry, then stupid and pathetic for feeling guilty, then, as soon as he had decided he really ought to talk to someone about things, he'd swing right back to anger again because no one had actually asked.
Perhaps they might if he gave them a chance, he had to admit. But there had been plenty of chances while he was growing up, for all of them. Remus, the Weasleys, his teachers, even the others in the Order - who had known enough to trick the Dursleys out of the house before coming to get him - while they might have shook their heads and said 'poor Harry' and, in Ron and Hermione's case at least, sent him food on the holidays, no one had actually done anything. No one had talked to him about it, not really. So he didn't have any reason to believe that anyone would want to now, especially since he was no longer a child...
They just wanted reassurances that he was all right, or would be all right. So he gave them, but that didn't seem to be enough, he was supposed to be all right NOW, or at least all right enough for civil conversation, and couldn't help it if he wasn't.
His head was a mess. It had been a long time since he'd felt like this. He'd made an effort to fill his life with work - and then family - partly so that he wouldn't have to feel like this. It was the whole I-struggle-to-trust-Death-Eater-families thing on a profoundly different level (and very few people seemed to understand that, either).
It had cost him a lot to give Ginny even a hint of how he was feeling, and already he felt guilty about it. She was too young to have to deal with this. It wasn't her problem. Maybe it would be, in a way, once they were married, but he was painfully aware that they weren't, and she was barely out of school - still a kid herself. Not that he would dare say anything of the sort to her face. But he didn't know who else to ask. Ron and Hermione were even younger than Ginny was, and Molly and Arthur - to whom he might have turned, back home - younger still. His parents had not even broached the subject with him - though he'd given them several chances - and he certainly wasn't going to do it himself, and give them more things to worry about on top of dealing with Petunia. Remus... well. Harry didn't want to know what he might say to Remus if they really started talking about his childhood. Probably something he'd regret later. Albus, James and Lily were entirely out of the question.
So far the only person who'd even asked him about it was Draco Malfoy.
"Hi," he said, forcing a smile as he opened the door to Ginny bearing food. He couldn't help thinking whenever this happened of the way Molly would occasionally show up at their house uninvited - especially after James was born - with a freshly baked lasagne or similar. Like mother like daughter. "Come in. Ron's at work."