Albus tried to clear his head. He felt as if he had not slept in ages. His bright blue eyes seemed pale to him when he looked at them on the surface of his cup of tea.
Ariana had gone to sleep. Finally. He lifted the cup and started the walk back to his bedroom.
"Bloody – " he whispered as his foot bumped into one of the legs of the heavy wooden table.
"Lumos." The light from the wand filled the kitchen with an eerie glow. A jar of raspberry jam sat in the middle of the table. There was a note beside it.
He set his tea down, lifted his wand, and picked the piece of paper up.
Albus,
I stopped by earlier, but you weren't home.
Picked this up for you.
Word in the Hollow has it it's delightful.
Come by my place tomorrow if you have the time.
I might've found that book you wanted by then.
See you soon,
Bathilda.
He put the paper down and looked around the kitchen. They were running short on just about everything edible. He had to go shopping tomorrow morning. He squinted and looked out the window, trying to decide whether it was already morning or not, and asked himself why he'd come down here. He could've easily conjured something to drink in his bedroom. The lack of habit, he thought, knowing instantaneously he wasn't being honest.
A thought occurred to him. The sort that came more and more often lately, as if his mind was trying to remind him there was only so much he could get out of books. He flicked his wand distractedly while he tried to remember something he'd read about dragon blood. The cup transformed into a flower pot, he flicked it again and there was a tea cup over the table once more.
He sat in one of the chairs and put his face between his hands. He sighed.
Barely a week had passed and already he could feel the energy draining out of him. The afternoons with Miss Bagshot were relieving, but there was still the feeling that Godric's Hollow, with its languid air and tree laden pathways, was a prison lovely with flowerbeds and pleasant skies.
There was little he could do about it, and as he walked up the stairs to his bedroom, he nudged himself to stop complaining.
He lay down over the covers of his bed. Aberforth looked like a heap of dirty laundry on top of the bed next to his. He doused his wand silently so as not to wake his brother up, stared at the ceiling in the darkness, and started humming to the beat of his brother's snoring; a continuous, sustained hum that grew deeper as he felt the mattress pulling him towards the floor.
He needed to see the book on dragons once more tomorrow.
And go shopping too, he thought without really meaning to.