After the War

Chapter 18

"Good morning, love," Ron chirped as Hermione rolled over in bed.

"What time 'sit?" she groaned, her eyes still shut against the light peeking through the curtains.

"A little after eleven."

"What?" she bolted up instantly and her eyes flew open. "Why didn't you wake me up?"

"You haven't slept for more than two hours in the past three days, you needed it," he said sternly, not backing down from her glare. "Now come on, we're going out today."

"What do you mean? My parents won't want to see me." Her head fell back against her pillow and she looked at the ceiling dejectedly.

"Good thing we're not going there then, huh," Ron grinned mischievously at her.

"Where are we going?" Her sullen look was replaced with curiosity, but Ron merely shook his head. He leaned over and kissed her before straightening up again.

"You better get changed. As much as I love seeing you in pajamas, I doubt all of Australia does." Ron was seated on top of the bed, fully clothed in jeans and a t-shirt, reading an old edition of the Daily Prophet. For some reason, the Prophet owls did not deliver to other countries. Hermione moaned softly, but managed to swing her legs around the bed and rummaged through their trunk. Her eyes were still puffy and red from last night, but she at least seemed out of tears to cry.

After Hermione had given up on detangling her hair, they walked out of the hotel lobby with Ron leading the way, reading directions from hastily scribbled notes he had made last night. Hermione abandoned her sour attempts to figure out where they were headed and Ron grinned despite himself-- at least she was distracted.

------------------------

Harry lay in bed at roughly noon his own time, his eyes staring unseeing at the bare wall. His glasses sat somewhere on the table beside the mattress, but Harry was unfazed by only seeing blurred colors. He was much more fazed by the piercing pains in the scars on his forehead and chest. A pillow lay limply on top of his head and Harry had long since given up trying to smother his ears to block out the sounds and voices. The Burrow itself was quiet, but memories had been swirling around in his head since he had woken up hours ago, and nothing he did could get rid of the haunting images.

"Harry, dear," Mrs. Weasley said quietly, poking her head into the room. "Do you want some lunch?"

"No," he replied, his voice hoarse and dry. He wasn't sure if she asked him anything else after, instead his mind was clouded with a young Tom Riddle saying in his cold voice "Voldemort is my past, present, and future" as he stared down upon him and an unconscious Ginny. A large basilisk reared its head, its scales dark and wet, its fangs the size of Harry's upper arm. Another wave of piercing pain shot through his scars and he bit back the wave of nausea that accompanied it.

"Don't you want to come downstairs, Harry?" Mrs. Weasley asked for the third time, hoping for a response.

"No," Harry managed and hoped that she would leave. Mercifully, he heard the door shut softly behind her. He did not want to go downstairs. He did not want to leave his bed. He did not want to move at all. Move, or even think for that matter. The room was filled with the distinct sense that a dementor was sitting on the bed across from Harry, gleefully watching him slip further and further down.

------------------------

"What is this place?" Hermione asked, her voice filled with wonder. The shop that they had come to did not disappoint Sophia's description from the night before. It was a cozy storefront with large windows outlined by light wooden walls. The green door was propped open so that the copper bell hung above it didn't ring when they entered. Inside were tons of circular tables and at the back was a small display of pastries and a swinging menu hanging from the ceiling. There was not a single section of the walls that was not covered in bookcases filled with novels of every color. A few people sat amongst the tables, reading or talking quietly while picking at their food or drinks. Ron watched Hermione turn around on the spot silently, her mouth hanging open in awe.