Working Through the Rest

Outside

Dad stumbles forward as the chaos around us ends and a different, more modern Godric's Hollow comes into form. Scorpius still has his face buried in his dad's shoulder, crying quietly. I don't blame him. Not with after what we just saw. Not when Delphi is still hovering a few feet away from us.

Hermione and Ron are stood silently, wands trained on Delphi. She is silent, her eyes closed, and she doesn't look dangerous. That's what scares me. She was dangerous. Every time that she smiled at me and I felt like maybe someone other than Scorpius did believe in me, every time that I felt like I was worth something, it was all a lie.

Mum helps dad stand up and I continue to stare around, almost blankly, trying to process everything. It just keeps replaying in my head, over and over. Every flash of fire, every acid-green light, every scream. I can't think straight. And no matter how much I want to sleep, I know I'm not going to. I don't think I'm ever going to be able to sleep again.
"Where are we going now?" Scorpius mumbles, his voice thick with tears as he looks at me.
"Home," Draco says firmly.
"I want to stay with Albus," Scorpius says quietly.
"Albus is going home as well," dad's hand lands on my shoulder and I flinch slightly.

His voice is shaking slightly, but he's firm about this. Scorpius looks at me imploringly and my stomach jolts guiltily. I know what memory is flashing through his head. I know he's thinking about the month where I barely saw him, where dad didn't let me see him.
"I..." I trail off, looking between dad and Scorpius. "Will you be okay?"

Scorpius looks at the floor, his eyes darting around. I know what he's thinking. I know he's trying to work out how to say that he won't be okay, but he knows. He knows that I also don't know what to say to dad. He knows that we're both too pathetic to start bridging the gaps that just keep growing.
"I'll see you tomorrow?" I ask, half-hopeful.
"Albus..."
"It's best," Draco puts his arm around Scorpius awkwardly. "You need some sleep and I would much prefer it if you were at home. We can sort everything out tomorrow."

Scorpius nods reluctantly and Draco spins on the spot. There is a deafening crack and they both disappear. 
"Will you be okay?" Hermione turns away from Delphi temporarily to look at us.

I don't move and dad nods. He takes my hand and I feel myself freezing slightly. I really don't want to go home. I really, really don't want to go home. I know Scorpius will be okay, but I still want to be near him. Because I don't know if I'll be okay.

I don't say anything, and we turn, disappearing. I do my best to breathe through the ever-unpleasant feeling of apparition, but in the end it's easier to ignore it until it stops, and we appear in the kitchen.

There's mess everywhere. Papers are strewn all over the table, surrounding what I assume is a cold cup of tea of tea. There's half-eaten food sat on the side, next to the blanket, now covered in holes.

I pull a glass out of the cupboard shakily and fill it with water, sitting down at the table. Mum sits down next to me, taking my hand gently.
"Where's Delphi?" I mumble.
"Ron and Hermione are taking her to the Ministry," dad keeps pacing up and down near the sink, "and then she'll go to Azkaban and I am going to do everything I can to make sure she never sees the outside again."

I nod, staring forward blankly. Titles of paperwork leap out at me, screaming things about Time-Turners and darkness and Voldemort. I shut my eyes. I don't want these reminders now.

And then green light flashes across my mind and I see them falling. Craig, Grandma, Grandad. And Scorpius. I keep seeing Scorpius at the end of the path of green light.

I open my eyes quickly. It's not real. Scorpius survived. No thanks to me. But he is alive. And that is what I need to remember.
"You need to get some sleep," mum says gently.
"I slept earlier," I mutter.
"Not for very long. Come on."

She stands up but I don't move, still trying to convince myself that everything is going to be okay when I know very well that nothing is okay.
"Albus," dad says firmly.
"I'm not going to bed," I don't move. "I slept earlier and..."

The words die on my lips. I'm not going to admit that I am scared. I'm not going to rely on him as a parent.

Even if I was ready for that, he isn't.