Lemon Grass and Sleep

TRULY, THE END

The air was peaceful outside, the sound of wizards bustling around and moving into the newly bought shops floating in through the slightly opened panes of glass. Though I couldn't see it, the sun felt warm on my skin as I soaked up everything I could.

"What does it look like?" I asked quietly, closing my eyes despite the fact it changed nothing.

"The sun's rather high up in the sky on account of it being noon," Glinda's portrait commented, "There's not a could in the sky, oh- Someone just got shat on by an owl."

I let out a chuckle, doing my best to picture the scene as Glinda's giggles joined in with me. The faint noise of the twins down in their shop filtered through the cracked 'EMPLOYEES ONLY' door--Fred still felt uncomfortable leaving me alone in the flat. He was convinced I'd try to do something dangerous like make a kettle of tea or something, but it's not like I could blame him.

A sigh escaped me as I tried to hold onto the calm that blessed me with its presence. There wasn't much else to do than sit around, anyhow. I couldn't read books or help with the shop anymore, all I could do was listen absent mindedly to the radio and sit in front of the window until the sun left me cold and Fred told me it was time for dinner.

"Are you lonely, Thomas?" Glinda's portrait asked me lightly, hardly bothering to mince her words. I couldn't help but let out a little laugh, remarking in my head how it sounded just like something she'd say.

"I wouldn't call it loneliness, it's simply the absence of you."

"Ah, afraid I can only help so much with that from in here," she replied sadly.

"You're helping plenty," I mumbled, a smile on my face despite the subject of conversation.

We sat in silence for a little bit, just reveling in the sound of society rebuilding itself.

"Sounds like there's a party in here," Fred joked to announce his presence, and I heard the chair I was sitting on creak as he leaned his weight onto it. I was caught off guard by a peck on the cheek, my cheeks warming immediately.

"Ugh, get a room," Glinda complained loudly.

"Can it, brushstrokes," Fred taunted in return, I could hear them making noises as they stuck their tongues out.

"Is it already closing time?" I asked, reaching a bit behind me to hold onto Fred's sleeve. I could never be sure if I was actually looking at him, and I gave up on eye contact weeks ago.

"Yeah, George's doing inventory. I was thinking you and I could do a bit more planning before bed."

"Oh," I sighed, "I don't know, it's rather stressful. I've no idea how Bill and Fleur did that in the middle of a war."

"Well, if they can, I imagine you two boneheads could do it," Glinda teased, and I heard her squabble and protest as the sound of Fred flipping her painting over echoed in the room.

"Shall we?" Fred offered in a gentlemanly tone of voice, hand bumping into mine as he took both of my hands in his. He'd been leading me around the flat despite my mental image getting good enough that I could get around on my own. Not like I was complaining about the extra attention, though.

"How's your back?" I asked, sighing as Fred enveloped me in a hug suddenly.

"Fine," he shook his head, the feeling of his chin moving back and forth brushed against my hair, "I've been casting some spells, nothing too unmanageable."

"Ah," I mumbled, "That's good."

Fred's finger brushed over my lips, fingertip falling into that familiar dent. After the battle, I couldn't bring myself to cast the bedazzling hex anymore--it seemed stupid. To walk around avoiding my past like the plague.