Lemon Grass and Sleep

DEALING WITH THE AFTERMATH

Death isn't a concept I'd ever really contemplated, not for long, anyhow. Then again, it seemed far away every time it happened. My parents death was nothing more than a foggy memory at this point, and Cedric's passing had been ingrained in Hogwarts' students as a call to action more than a tragic event.

There had always been a more immediate threat to worry about, or something to cut my thoughts short. Dumbledore's death felt personal, despite the fact I'd never talked to him longer than five minutes about anything other than school supplies or boarding.

Some sort of numbness had overtaken me in the time between the skirmish at Hogwarts and the ceremony held to bury Dumbledore. Watching the flames devour him only to leave him preserved--trapped in a white tomb forever, it was surreal.

In my entire life, Dumbledore had been placed on a pedestal by everyone I knew. He was untouchable, the headmaster of Hogwarts--the greatest wizard of our time. Reduced to a normal person in a matter of moments, with that vulnerability taken advantage of ruthlessly.

"Thomas, come on," Fred gently called, "Let's go shower, okay?"

"Mm," I hummed softly, sitting up cooperatively.

"Up, up," he said lightly, grabbing my hands gingerly and pulling me to stand.

The twins and Glinda seemed similarly affected, but I don't think they were prepared to watch me devolve so much. Some sort of guilt laced every caring action they performed for me, a tiny voice in my brain scolding me for making them take on the responsibility of basic actions I should be able to do myself.

"Lift up your arms," Fred asked, hands hovering over the hem of my shirt.

I complied wordlessly, glancing up at Fred's face once before letting my gaze fall back to the floor. He looked tired, I should just shower by myself. Putting all this onto Fred is unfair, nobody should be in charge of making sure a functional adult is keeping themselves clean and fed.

"You don't have to," I mumbled, "I can do it myself."

"Hm?" Fred hummed curiously, his eyebrows knitting in confusion, "You mean undress yourself? But I find it so fun." A teasing tone tinged his words, making me feel slightly better.

"Well, if you don't want to shower with me, I mean-" I stammered, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

"Why wouldn't I want to shower with you?" He asked like it was such an outlandish thing to say, "You know we're dating, right? Did you happen to forget?"

"I don't know, I just figured you might be annoyed," I muttered, "You know, taking care of me."

"Nonsense," he shut me down immediately, pressing a chaste kiss against my forehead. "Now chop chop, we have a shop to open."

I finished getting undressed, content with Fred's answer. If he wanted to do this, it wasn't like I could tell him no. Perhaps all I needed was a warm shower and a return to normal to make me feel better.

And although that would have been nice, it only helped slightly. It did feel good that everyone else was acting as they usually did--for some reason it made me feel like everything was going to be fine if I could just get through this part. Fred and George opened the shop, Glinda made sure I had a kettle of tea before she left for work, and I was left to sit in the common area and listen to the radio.

I was meant to be reading a book, but for a moment I was caught up in the silence. Now, it wasn't actually all that quiet. There was chatter from the shop as Fred and George opened, and the radio was loud enough that I could hear it across the room. But the air was still, and for the briefest of moments I realized the surreality of what was going on around us in our little bubble.