A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who has been reading and reviewing my story! Thanks to everyone who favorite-d it too! You're all totally awesome hehe :) Anyway, I own nothing. Harry Potter and everyone else belongs to JK Rowling. Hope you like this chapter!

Chapter 10

Whoosh. Unlocking the door, Harry stepped out of the stall, pausing to glance at the water spiraling down the toilet. For the faintest second, it reminded him of the Ministry, but before he could complete his thought, he pushed it away. The plane had made him feel sick enough; reminders of the war would only make him feel sicker.

"You all right, mate?"

Harry glanced away from the stall upon hearing the voice, believing it to be Ron for only a moment. But the man that stood there wasn't Ron in the slightest. It was just a blonde guy with an Australian accent.

"I'm all right, thanks," Harry nodded, stumbling to the sinks.

"Plane sick?" the Australian man asked.

Harry nodded, filling up his cupped hands with water.

"Ahh, I know the feeling," the blonde man said.

"Happens to you often?" Harry asked once his mouth was washed out.

"Always," the man nodded before heading into a stall.

Harry almost threw up again as his face drained of the few bits of color left. He gripped the edge of the sink as memories of Snape surfaced in his mind. Harry bit his lip, fighting back the painful recollection of the battle night. He turned the faucet on again and splashed water in his face, sighing in relief as the icy water washed away his thoughts.

Wiping the wetness off his face, Harry left the bathroom rummaging around in his pocket to make sure his luggage had not fallen out along the way. His hand touched against the bags and he withdrew, running his hand through his hair instead.

The Australian airport was as busy as the one in London had been. People hurried around trying to catch their various planes, dragging their children along, turning around while shouting for members of their group to hurry up. Most of them probably weren't witches or wizards, and for that he was thankful. No one would notice him. He was an ordinary black-haired, green-eyed teenager dressed in ordinary clothes. His only distinguishing feature was his British accent, and even that wasn't extremely unusual.

Harry found the doors and left the airport without a glance back. Every trace of Britain was behind him now, and all of Australia lied before him.

Harry looked up at the Sydney skyline, one that was so different from London's. That in itself would help a bit. As he walked farther, he noticed the climate was different as well, and slipped on a light jacket. He had forgotten that while it was summer back in England, winter had come to Sydney, Australia.

Harry walked down the streets of Sydney, not sure of where he was going. When hundreds of people walked by him without so much as a glance in his direction, Harry managed a smile. No one was stopping him to praise him or to yell at him. No one recognized him at all. He was normal. He wasn't Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived…he was Harry Potter, the boy.

Yet as he strolled around Sydney, buying food and eventually turning up near the harbor to admire the Opera House and the bridge, exhaustion caught up with him, the excitement from not being recognized fading away.

I'll just go to bed then, Harry thought for a moment before realizing he had no home in Australia.

Harry bit his lip and drew his gaze away from the brilliantly blue waters. The sun would be setting soon, and booking a hotel room would probably be an intelligent idea. Harry could almost hear Hermione chastising him for not thinking things through enough and he almost smiled before guilt emerged in the pit of his stomach. Hermione…Hermione, who had given up so much to help him, even her parents...

A sick feeling overwhelmed him and he grasped the metal bars preventing him from falling into the water below. Harry heaved, the remnants of his last meal along with a mixture of stomach acid plummeting into the harbor.

Harry wiped his mouth of his jacket sleeve, grimacing. The sickness would have to stop soon or his throat would be redder than the Gryffindor tapestries at Hogwarts. Before he could feel ill again, Harry pushed Gryffindor out of his mind. He certainly wasn't acting like one now, anyway.

Harry headed back from the harbor, deciding to pick the first hotel that he came upon. Harry looked up at the skyscraper, peering at the name. The Four Seasons. It would work, at least for one night. He had seven hundred thousand pounds with him, after all, which he hadn't bothered to exchange for Australian dollars. Since the hotel was so upscale, they might even do it for him.

Harry walked up to the hotel at the doorman opened the door for him but gave him a suspicious look. Harry passed through the doors, looking down at his own attire. He wore jeans and a t-shirt with a light jacket over the shirt, but nothing was fancy. It was probably odd for a casually dressed teenager to simply walk into the Four Seasons Hotel.

Harry ignored the odd looks he got from the guests and staff alike, making his way to the desk. A brunette behind the counter was free, so he headed over to her, forcing himself to give her a smile. She smiled back, but with a sense of confusion.

"Hello," Harry said. "I'd like to book a suite for one."

"A…A suite?" the woman frowned, but kept her smile in place. "Er, certainly. How old are you?"

"Eighteen," Harry lied smoothly. He would be eighteen in a few weeks, after all.

"All right," the woman nodded. "Well, a suite for one? May I have your name?"

"Harry Potter," Harry said, and for once in his life, he wasn't afraid to give his full name. No one here would gasp when he said it.

The woman typed something (Harry assumed it was his name) into the computer in front of her.

"Mr. Potter," she said slowly, as if it felt odd on her tongue, "do you want any specific accommodations? Any certain views?"

"One of the harbor would be nice, if you have it," Harry shrugged. "I'm not picky."

The brunette nodded and typed more information into the database.

"Are you aware of the cost, Mr. Potter?" she asked, peering at him over her glasses.

"I'm aware it will be a good deal of money," Harry said, and took out a handful of hundred pound notes. "Will you take British currency? I'm afraid I haven't had the chance to get it exchanged yet."

"We…we can exchange it for you," the woman said, a look of surprise on her face when she saw the money Harry held.

"Thanks, that would be great," Harry smiled, dumping half his money onto the table, receiving an even more surprised look from the clerk.

"It's…it's no trouble," the woman gulped, sweeping the money into a pile. "I will return shortly."

Harry nodded.

He inspected the lobby, his eyes drifting over the decorations and the people. The lobby itself was quite beautiful and elaborate, but he had not really expected anything less at such a fancy hotel. Some of the people seemed to be dressed like himself, except none of them were seventeen-year-olds roaming around by themselves. Anyone under the age of twenty was with an older adult, and it seemed that teenagers were almost entirely absent from the lobby.

Harry sighed. He had just unintentionally received more attention than most normal people did. Still, it was nothing compared to the attention he received back in England. But what was wrong with him? Why did attract attention everywhere he went? Did he accidentally keep pushing himself into those kinds of situations?

Shortly, the woman returned with his money all transformed into Australian currency. Harry pocketed the money and paid the woman what was owed for the room, which made a small dent in his supply. With yet another smile the woman behind the counter handed him his key, and Harry took it.

Harry reached the elevators, waiting no longer than a few moments for one to arrive. He stepped on, standing awkwardly next to a pompous-looking middle-aged man and a woman who he assumed was the man's much younger wife. The elevator binged, and Harry stepped off at his floor. Reading the signs, he figured out where his room was and went that way, walking through the winding halls. He slipped out the key, sliding it into the lock and stepped inside the room.

His jaw dropped. He knew the room would be extravagant as it was a suite at the Four Seasons, but he had not known how extravagant it would be. Growing up in a cupboard for a decent portion of his life, the most extravagance Harry had seen was the dormitories at Hogwarts. But this was even more expensive-looking.

Harry bit his lip. The view was beautiful and the room seemed to sparkle. Every accommodation was placed artistically around the room, but Harry wasn't quite sure he liked the place. The whole look seemed to scream "expensive," which was definitely something Harry was not used to. But maybe in his new life, he would face more extravagance. Maybe this was where he was supposed to live.

Harry shook his head. He would give it a little while. Just because he wanted to escape his old life didn't mean that he had to make enormous purchases and waste his money on unnecessary accommodations and views.

Making his way to the window, Harry gazed out at the harbor. The sun was dropping lower in the sky, casting a fiery glow on the water and the Sydney skyline. The sun appeared to be a molten semicircle, sinking lower over the horizon, the rays piercing through the buildings, casting shimmers on the waves in the harbor.

Harry pressed his fingers against the wide, glass windows, something he would never have been allowed to do if the Dursleys had been there. He peered into the sun, the glow seeming to set his green eyes on fire. Fire. Ginny.

Try as he might to push the thought from his mind, Ginny seemed to dangle in his thoughts, tantalizing him. He pressed his eyes closed and opened them, staring right into the sunset, it's fiery glow dull in comparison to Ginny's beautiful, red locks.

"Ginny," Harry whispered, pressing his fingers more firmly against the glass as if he could reach out to the rays of light, in false hope that they might turn to the soft locks of Ginny's hair. "Ginny…I'm so sorry."

Harry bit his lip again and tore his gaze away. Maybe getting the harbor view wasn't his best idea. Maybe this whole Australia thing wasn't his best idea.

Harry shook his head. No, he needed to leave. He needed to move on. He couldn't think of Ginny anymore, or anyone else. Harry searched the room and finally found a remote, pressing a button to close up the windows. The blinds dropped down, and the sunset disappeared.

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