Chapter Text
After the war Harry moves around the halls of number 12 Grimmauld Place like a ghost. The location no longer secret, journalists bang on the door at all hours, wanting to hear his story, to tell the world how The Boy Who Lived won the war. Owls tap at his window, almost more insistent than the wizards on his stoop. He never opens the door. He only lets the owls in because he knows it’s not their fault. He burns everything they bring him. He isn’t ready to tell the story. He feels broken, tainted. The Weasley’s had invited him to stay at the Burrow after it was all over, but he couldn’t bring himself to say yes.
He knows that he needs to get away. He thinks about backpacking around Europe, losing himself in the countryside until all the pain filters away. The idea is short lived. He has had enough camping to last him the rest of his life. The desire to disappear, however, remains.
The owl that taps on his window just as he is drifting off to sleep is the straw that breaks him. It’s time.
It’s 2am when Harry knocks on Hermione’s front door. Her father lets him in, sits him down on the living room couch while he goes to wake his daughter. He smiles and whispers thank you as he leaves the room. Harry feels sick to his stomach. Hermione comes into the room wrapped in a flannel robe. She sits beside him and hugs him gently as he cries silently into her shoulder.
He tells her about his need to get away, to stop being The Boy Who Lived and just be Harry. He tells her about his backpacking idea and why he let it go. She nods, understanding glimmering in the unshed tears in her eyes. She suggests a road trip, far across the ocean, in America. She tells him that she will teach him to drive, help him get a licence.
He stays with her while he learns. He finds that he enjoys the feeling of control it gives him. He uses magic to bypass the licencing system. He cannot wait the usual amount of time. Hermione says nothing; she knows that it was necessary. They sell some of his galleons and buy muggle money in preparation. Ron and Ginny visit the day before he leaves. He explains where he is going. Ron nods and claps him on the back. We’ll hold down the fort, he tells him. I hope you find what you’re looking for.
They leave him alone with Ginny. No words are spoken. They embrace for a moment and she presses a kiss to his lips. Come back to me soon she says. Harry nods, takes his rucksack and walks out the door.
He spends the last night in number 12. The insistent knock on the door only solidifies his resolve. Dawn finds him in a taxi to the airport. His wand is tucked deep in his luggage. He doesn’t want to use magic if he can help it. He feels like it belongs to the war. He doesn’t want the feeling of power and responsibility it gives him, the weight of the world on his shoulders.
He boards the plane as just another face in the crowd. Eight hours later he’s standing outside the airport in Kansas City. He checks into a hostel for the night. He shares his room with a young man from New York. He introduces himself as Thomas. There is no recognition in his eyes and Harry breathes a sigh of relief. He tells Thomas his name and Thomas tells him stories of his travels. He’s been all over the world and is slowly making his way home. He’s been in Kansas City for a while. He tells Harry that he likes the city’s atmosphere. He also tells Harry where he can find an inexpensive car that will still run like a dream. Harry thanks him and they turn in for the night. It is the first uninterrupted sleep Harry has gotten since the end of the war.