The Kids Aren't Alright

After the Battle

The days following the Battle of Hogwarts were long, painful at the very least. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were trollied around like Honeydukes sweets to every funeral, Ministry of Magic event, and celebration.

None of the Golden Trio wanted to be present, not like this. They wanted to be at the funerals as friends, not like figureheads. The Ministry was no better, standing them in front of hundreds of cameras and Quick-Quotes quills as writers yelled questions at them.

Hermione wanted to hide away and ignore all the questions and flashes. She wanted freedom following the months of seclusion. She was tired, exhausting every last piece of herself from the constant migraines and nightmares.

Ron seemed to enjoy it at first. Happy to finally be recognized, even if it was only as Harry's best friend. Still though, he struggled. After losing Fred, he wasn't quite himself. He drank more often than not in the evenings when the cameras finally stopped. More than once Harry had to pull the red-head out of the loo and back into bed once the dry heaves were over.

Harry seemed to be doing the best of the three, though he wasn't exactly doing well. He had become silent in the days after the battle, keeping to himself until it came time to babysit Ron's drunk form in the evenings. When he couldn't sleep he would fly around on his broom behind the Burrough with Ginny alongside him.

They at least had each other. With the constant drinking and bashful behaviour from Ron, Hermione pushed him away.

Every day was the same pattern and it tore her apart. Wake up, attend a funeral of a fallen friend, attend the Ministry events for Shacklebolt, get a migraine, return to the Borough, eat dinner, watch Ron drink himself to sleep, go to bed and fight nightmares.

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"Harry," Hermione spoke softly into Ginny's room the morning after the final funeral, "I'm leaving."

"Where to?"

"London, I found a small flat and I just need to get out for a while. Start over a bit," she wrapped her arms around his neck, "I'll still be around and I'll write. Tell Gin when she wakes up for me?"

"Of course, 'Mione," his green eye bore into hers, "Have you told Ron yet? Keeps saying that he's gonna leave too."

"He's so pissed he wouldn't know London from Yorkshire," the sting in her eyes told her that it was time to go, "I love you, Harry."

"I love you too, 'Mione," he held onto her just a little while longer, "Be safe, alright?"

With a soft nod, she turned and made her way through the Borough not wanting to draw attention to her absence. As soon as she made it through the door she released the breath she didn't know she was holding. The wards were only a few paces ahead, she was free. She had a break in all the chaos for at least a little while.

Once she apparated to the Leaky Cauldron in London, she made her way to the muggle street outside.

Ducking into various shops she found muggle clothes, groceries, and a new set of trainers before she made her way to her new flat about a mile south.

It was small, less room for error in her mind. It had large windows allowing light to stream in, with curtains that were pulled so that she wouldn't be awoken each morning with the bright sunrise to the east. The sitting area and kitchen were open into one another for if she wanted to have guests. It had one bedroom with cream walls and a full sized bed that she had charmed to be a four-poster queen, a desk in the corner where she had set up her books and a bookcase beside it that she would add an extension charm to later. The bathroom had a clawfoot tub with a shower head just tall enough to spray the top of her wild curls. Most of the small apartment was a white creamy colour with white gold accents.