Shattered Mirror

Chapter 1 - A Drive to the Sea

"Are you all right, Harry?"

"I'm fine, Hermione," said Harry tonelessly. He really wished people would stop asking him that. He had answered the same way every time he'd been asked that question for the last two weeks. He thought people would have been able to predict his answer by now.

Harry was staring out the open window of the Ministry car. He'd been doing that for quite a while now, ever since they had left the Ministry of Magic at ten o'clock that morning, in fact. The hustle and bustle of the city had slowly given way to rolling hills and rich green grass on which sheep and cows grazed. It was now nearly one o'clock in the afternoon. Harry had hardly said a word since they left.

"Are you sure you don't want a sandwich, Harry?" asked Hermione, after she finished the last bite of her own roast beef sandwich. "Molly made plenty."

"No thanks," sighed Harry. "I'm not hungry."

Hermione sighed and was quiet for a moment before she spoke again. "We're nearly there, Harry," she noted. Hermione smiled. "We passed a restaurant a few miles back. We should stop for dinner before we head back to London. I'm sure Auror Ravenswood wouldn't mind."

"Not at all," chimed the driver with a smile as he looked in the rear view mirror. "Minister Shacklebolt said to take as long as you need. If you want to stay a day or two, even longer if you want, that's fine. I am completely at your disposal. It's truly an honor, Harry. Anything I can do, you just name it. Thanks again for the sandwiches, and please...call me Arnold, both of you."

"Thanks, Arnold," responded Hermione with a smile. She turned toward Harry. "What do you say, Harry? Let's stay for a couple of days. You haven't left The Burrow in two weeks. Some time at the beach would be good for you. I'm sure Ron will come join us. It's Friday, I bet if we ask Professor McGonagall really nicely we might be able to spring Ginny from school for the weekend."

"You'll miss your plane tomorrow," Harry reminded her, vaguely. "I'm sure you haven't forgotten."

He didn't turn toward her, but he heard her sigh and could practically feel her frown.

"That's all right," said Hermione with a shrug. "Ron and I can get a flight in a couple of days. A day or two won't make any difference."

"That's fine," grumbled Harry softly. "Whatever you want to do is fine."

"All right," said Hermione, somewhat dejectedly. "I still don't know what to say to my parents anyway. I'm not really looking forward to it. I don't think they'll understand."

Somewhere deep down, Harry was aware that Hermione was really upset about going to Australia to get her parents. She was afraid they wouldn't understand and that they might not forgive her for altering their memories. There was a time Harry would have put his arms around her, hugged her tightly and told her that it would be all right. That's what best friends do for one another.

"It will be fine, Hermione," said Harry vaguely as he continued to look out the window.

"I hope so," sniffed Hermione softly. She took Harry's right hand and held it between both of hers.

Harry continued to stare out the window as the countryside rolled by. It was a lovely summer day, but Harry wasn't really seeing it. He was numb to the scenery, just like he was numb to the cool breeze in his face, and to Hermione holding his hand. He had been numb to everything for the last two weeks.

Could it have only been a fortnight, Harry wondered? It felt like a hundred years ago that he stood in the Great Hall as the Killing Curse cast by the Elder Wand rebounded upon Voldemort. If this was what two weeks was like, he couldn't imagine how the next month or the next year would be.

Harry reached up with his left hand and held the mokeskin pouch that hung from his neck. Hermione noticed.

"Harry, I'm just curious...what are you carrying around in that pouch?" she inquired. "I don't remember the last time I saw you not wearing it."

"Just some stuff," replied Harry as he removed his hand from the pouch. "Nothing important." Hermione was right. He had hardly taken the pouch off in the last two weeks and when he did, it was never far from him.

Harry felt Hermione give his hand a squeeze. There was a time that would have been very comforting to him. Nothing really gave him any comfort anymore.

"We could have stopped to get Ron," declared Hermione. "It would have been no problem. George could have done without him at the store today. He would have been happy to come."

"You've both done more than enough for me," insisted Harry with a sigh. "I could've come alone."

"Fat chance," scoffed Hermione with just a touch of annoyance in her voice. She sighed. "I wasn't going to let you do this by yourself. If you'd told us yesterday about the owl you got, Ron would be here too. We could have asked Neville to come as well."

"Sounds like fun," chuckled Harry mirthlessly. "We could have brought Ginny and Luna and made it a Department of Mysteries reunion."

Hermione sighed heavily and laid her head on Harry's shoulder. "We're worried about you, Harry," she whispered softly. "All of us are."

"Yeah," said Harry softly. "You don't need to be. I'm fine."

No one seemed to understand that he wanted to be left alone. Harry had spent the last two weeks at The Burrow. He didn't really have anywhere else to go. He certainly didn't want to go to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place ever again. The only place he could find to be alone during the day was the bathroom. At least at night he was alone, only barely conscious of Ron's snoring on the other side of the room.

Other than the funerals, which Harry remembered clearly, he honestly couldn't recall most of the details from the first few days after Voldemort fell. He was sure he'd spent them, as he had all the days since, sitting in the garden at The Burrow. Ron and Hermione stayed with him most of the time, talking quietly to each other. They tried to talk to him. He listened, but really had nothing much to say beyond 'sure,' 'yeah,' 'maybe,' and 'I'm fine.'

Once in a while, Molly, Arthur, Bill, Fleur, Charlie, or George would take over keeping an eye on him so Ron and Hermione could be alone for a while. Luna, Neville, Professor McGonagall, and Hagrid had all been by a couple of times. He had no more to say to any of them than he did to say to Hermione and the Weasleys.

Only Ginny stayed away, and Harry thought that was for the best. He couldn't say that he blamed her. He would stay away from himself if he could.

A few days after the funerals, Ginny returned to Hogwarts to finish out the school year. The night before she left, Hermione told Harry that he should really talk to her before she went back to school. She said Ginny was crying herself to sleep most nights.

He hadn't talked to her. He couldn't talk to her.

"Please talk to me, Harry," begged Hermione sadly.

"What would you like me to say?" retorted Harry, with no trace of emotion in his voice. He turned his head toward her. She still had her head resting on his shoulder. He had hardly noticed.

"I know how you feel," said Hermione, as she picked her head up.

"You do?" asked Harry softly as he looked into her eyes. He was looking for some sign that she truly could understand how he felt. Hermione's chocolate brown eyes held no such recognition.

"Sorry...I guess not," sighed Hermione slowly as she looked away from his intense gaze. She glanced back to him. "Why don't you tell me? It won't get any better unless you talk about it."

"What is there to talk about, Hermione?" answered Harry with another sigh. "It's over. I stopped him. I've done what I had to do, fulfilled the prophecy and all that. I'd like to not do anything for a while. I think I've earned it."

"Of course you've earned it, Harry," agreed Hermione sympathetically. "I just hate to see you like this. You rarely talk. You barely eat. You look exhausted. I'll bet you're not sleeping at all. I know Ginny understands but...she really needs you, Harry. I know how much it hurts. Fred was like family to me too. Remus and Tonks were my friends. Please just talk to me." Hermione was practically pleading with him.

"I'd rather not talk about anything," protested Harry exasperatedly, as he turned back to look out the window. "They're dead...and I'm still here. What else is there to say?"

"We're still here with you," pleaded Hermione. Her voice shook slightly as she spoke. She took a deep breath. "We haven't gone anywhere. We're here for you, and we want to help you. We all love you, Harry."

"I'm fine," declared Harry. He removed his hand from hers, and rested it on his leg.

In the back of his mind, Harry knew there was pain in Hermione's voice. He should feel terrible letting his best friend worry about him like this. He should want to give her a hug and smile, and then tell her everything would be all right. He couldn't do any of that. He felt nothing.