Chapter 9

Dear Harry and Hermione,

Why don't you two come to the house for dinner on Sunday? We would love to have you both there.

Love,

Molly and Arthur

Dear Hermione,

George is worse than before, Hermione. I don't know what to do or what to say. I haven't been able to get him to leave his room. Any ideas? He seemed to take comfort from you at the funeral, so I'm open to any suggestions you have. Maybe you could come see him? Please come back, we miss you.

I miss you,

Ginny

"Hermione! I'm home!" Harry's voice drifted into the kitchen where Hermione was standing, looking at the letters she'd received. There was a sealed letter with Harry's name on it, scrawled in Ron's handwriting.

"In the kitchen! We got more letters!" Hermione shouted back, placing the new letters she'd gotten in with the steadily growing pile on the counter. She looked at the sizable pile and sighed, shoulders slumping. Harry dropped his bag by the dining table and picked up his letter, sitting down to read it.

Dear Harry,

Things are barmy without you and Hermione here to keep us all in line.

Please come back,

Ron

"Who were the other letters from?" Harry asked, adding the letter to the pile.

"Molly, Arthur, Ginny… take your pick," Hermione huffed, sitting down at the table opposite Harry.

"Why are you so angry about it? They're just letters," Harry asked, bewildered at Hermione's tone.

"Can't they just leave us be? I mean, we've only been gone two weeks and they're acting like it's been months. The only person who hasn't written to us is George, and that's because - according to Ginny - he's gone back to not doing anything," Hermione flung her hands up helplessly.

"You feel like it's your fault that George is back to the way he was," Harry observed, scrutinising her across the table. Hermione sighed.

"Yes, I do. Don't you?"

"Nope. Look, Hermione, George will have days even twenty years from now when he probably won't want to leave his room. That's just how he's chosen to grieve."

"Ever since we moved they've just been bombarding us with letters Harry. I'd just like a little bit of peace and quiet is all," Hermione grumbled.

"I just don't think they understand Hermione. When you're a family as big as theirs, there's always someone from the family around. Even if they're not actually around, they're around. They mean well," Harry attempted to comfort Hermione, but realised it was falling on deaf ears. He could see the burning in her eyes, her sigh of frustration.

"I know they consider us family. They have since the start. I know it's going to be an adjustment for everyone. But it doesn't mean I have to like the daily owls," Hermione grumbled, putting her face in her hands. Harry sat down beside her on the couch.

"What's wrong? It's not just the letters."

"Looking at documents about the procedures during the war to safeguard those that travelled from England to Australia. I know Kingsley is busy, but this is just taking too long so I thought I would do some research," Hermione sighed, glaring down at the papers strewn over the table.

"And?" Harry glanced at her expectantly.

"My parents went to Australia on their own, presumably, without any help from the Ministry here. However, I've looked up Wendell and Monica Wilkins and found nothing. Which may mean that they do not have an electronic footprint, or…"

"They got mixed in with the people fleeing England at the time. Can you detect an Obliviate spell on someone else?" Harry asked.

"I think the Obliviators that work for the Ministry probably can. Maybe the Australian Ministry can, too, and noticed. Either way, they're in the wind at the moment," Hermione murmured dejectedly. She slumped back on the couch, and Harry joined her.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," Harry murmured, taking one of her hands in his.

"Me too. I hope Kingsley can find them."

"He will," Harry reassured her. Hermione took her hand out of Harry's and gestured to the pile of papers he'd brought home.

"So, how has work been? Still in training, I assume?" Harry shrugged.

"Sort of? We are all looking at cold cases now while they try to find a replacement."

"Any prospects yet?"

"A few, but it's going slowly because they have instituted more security and wellness checks into the hiring process so what happened to Ron doesn't happen again," Harry informed her, a shadow sliding through his eyes at the thought. Hermione nudged his leg with hers, to try and get his attention from sinking too far into the memory.

"That's good. Really good. The more cautious they are the better; things are still much too tenuous to risk people's lives over a miscalculation," Hermione tried to reassure him, but she could see that his gaze was still dark. He visibly shook himself, as if that would bring his mind back to the present. A mischievous grin took over his face.

"You know what else? Kingsley wanted Ron and I as the replacements," Harry shook his head with the incredulity of it all, but chuckled at Hermione, whose mouth gaped open.

"You didn't - why didn't you?"

"Well, Ron's still not fully healed, for one. Another is that Ron and I are set to a much higher standard than anyone else because we actually fought in the war. It's way too stress inducing. This is very different from when we ran Dumbledore's Army. We don't know them, we've all had different education-"

"The majority of you would have been to Hogwarts," Hermione interjected. Harry waved his hand impatiently.

"Yes, but Ron and I have had way more 'field experience' as it were and less book experience. Some of the trainees have studied stuff for years that we've seen in person. We have so many gaps in our education it would be like we were both Lockhart trying to teach Defense again. Neither of us wanted that, so we told him no. Hence, more cold cases to look at," Harry grumbled, waving a hand at the pile of folders that held the Ministry insignia.

"Okay, enough of that. You'll get that replacement soon. What do you want for dinner? I'll cook," Hermione offered, getting up and walking into the kitchen. Harry scoffed.

"Better you than me. Don't want to burn the house down," Harry said, grimacing. Hermione spun back around to look at him, rolling her eyes.

"Honestly, Harry, it was just one frying pan. And you're a wizard, remember? All you need is practice, Harry. I'll make that stew, how's that sound?" Hermione asked as she cluttered about in the kitchen.

"Heavenly," Harry groaned, stretching languidly before turning bleary eyes toward the kitchen. Hermione came through the door moments later. Concern shone from her eyes as she sat beside Harry.

"It'll cook itself. Are you okay, Harry?"

"I'm fine, just tired," Harry murmured. Hermione narrowed her eyes at him - not that he saw, since his eyes were closed - and sighed.

"I can feel you looking at me, Hermione. I'm fine."

"How much are you sleeping?"

"Enough," Harry assured, eyes still closed. Hermione scoffed and rolled her eyes in disbelief.

"Oh yes, those bags really tell me you've gotten enough sleep. A-are you having nightmares?" Harry finally opened his eyes at her hesitant question.

"Some. It's not any worse than before. No better either, but not worse. Should I be asking you the same thing?" Harry arched an eyebrow.

"You just look really tired, Harry."

"That's exactly what I need to hear from my roommate," Harry said, rolling his eyes.

"It's true; they're working you all too hard with those cold cases while they're looking for that replacement," Hermione murmured, pegging Harry with a stare that made him squirm.

"What?" Harry asked defensively.

"What you slept at all since they started you on those cold cases." Hermione demanded. Harry ducked his head.

"You should be an interrogator, Hermione. You'd be bloody good at it," Harry complimented.

"Well?" Hermione waited a few moments, watching Harry avoid her gaze, before he heaved a huge sigh.

"Not really, okay?" Harry admitted sullenly.

"I know we spoke about this briefly before we moved here, but with the actual move we never fully finished the conversation - do you want me to brew some Sleeping Draught for you? You wouldn't be able to take it every day due to its addictive reagents, but you'll be able to take it on nights that are particularly difficult," Hermione offered. Harry threw a grateful smile her way.

"I would appreciate that," Harry gratefully reached out a hand to touch hers, sending a small smile her way.

"I'll start a batch tonight. It's not a replacement for anything, but it will help until you sort yourself out," Hermione reassured him, standing up as if to go start the potion, but Harry still held her hand.

"Thanks, Hermione. I know I don't make any of this easy, with the whole asking for help thing..." Hermione scoffed.

"It's like pulling teeth, Harry. But you do need your rest if you're going to be out fighting in the field. Can't help if you're asleep on the job. But this is only a temporary fix, mind you. You're still going to have to do some work to be able to manage them, or something," Hermione waved her hand dismissively, not wanting to bring up therapy too soon. She waved her wand and the stew floated into the room, along with some bowls and utensils.

"Yeah I will. I just need some time… you know?"

"Yeah, I do. Now eat or the stew is going to get cold," Hermione urged. Harry started eating with gusto, like he always did. Hermione followed suit, not realising she was hungry until the first bite went into her mouth.

"So what have you been doing?" Harry asked between bites.

"A few things. I've been reading the seventh year course content in the event that Hogwarts reopens, but I don't think that's going to happen soon. I wrote Hagrid last week and he said parts of the castle were still in shambles."

"You want to go back?" Harry asked, surprised. Hermione sent a confused look his way.

"Of course I do. Don't you?"

"Hadn't really thought about it, to be honest. It would be nice to finish, but… too many bad memories there, now. I don't think I can go back. Least not right now anyway," Harry clarified.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Hermione looked at Harry.

"You expecting anyone?" Hermione shouted as she walked to the door.

"No!" came Harry's shouted response. Hermione opened the door to find Ginny standing on the doorstep. Her hair was lank, skin sallow, purple bruises under her eyes from complete and utter exhaustion. Hermione could hear footsteps behind her, Harry coming to join them to see who was at the door.

"Gin." Harry's response was brittle; Hermione could see the tension that now sang in his arms, his shoulders, at seeing her. Hermione shoved him back toward the kitchen.

"Get another bowl of stew out," Hermione ordered. Harry gave her a bewildered look, but when Hermione's hands again gestured toward the kitchen, insistent, Harry moved away from the door.

"Can I come in?" Ginny moved from foot to foot, unsure of her welcome. Hermione put her arm around the taller woman's waist, guiding her inside.

"Of course. Ginny, what's wrong? Are you poorly?"

"I just… needed to get away. I didn't know where else to go. I know you both are still settling in-" Ginny stopped as Hermione waved a hand.

"It's neither here nor there. I'm just happy that you came to us, instead of wandering around." Hermione led Ginny to the kitchen, where Harry sat, a bowl of steaming stew in the place opposite him. Ginny sat and clutched the silverware so hard her knuckled mottled, but made no move to eat. She looked blankly at the bowl, as if seeing something else entirely. Harry hesitantly reached a hand across the table, keeping it inches from her own.

"Gin?" Despite the tension that still stiffened the set of his shoulders, worry shone in his eyes. Ginny blinked, and awareness swept in. So did the sorrow, and the anger.

"I'm sorry. I'm not paying attention. This smells really good. I'm just not hungry," Ginny murmured, pushing the bowl away and resting her head atop her arms that were folded on the table. Hermione, still standing, sent Harry a look, clearly asking what to do. Harry sighed, and moved his chair closer to Ginny, resting a hand on her back.

"Gin, talk to us," Harry pleaded. Ginny's form shuddered and she moved to rest her head on Harry's shoulder, to Harry's surprise. Hermione moved to them then, and ran her hand soothingly through Ginny's hair. Ginny heaved a huge sigh at the contact.

"I'll leave you two to talk," Hermione patted Harry's shoulder and moved swiftly up the stairs to give them privacy.

"Gin, what's wrong? Talk to me. We're both worried about you," Harry urged, running a hand in soothing lines down her quivering back. He could feel the knobs of her spine. Too thin. Alarm coiled in the pit of his stomach.

"Harry, I just feel so… I don't know what to do," Ginny mumbled the words into her arms.

"What is it?" Harry pulled his chair closer to hers so he could hear.

"The Burrow is a mausoleum now. Mum just sits at the kitchen table. Dad is in the garage with his Muggle things and never comes out. Ron is nearly fully healed from that barmy instructor but even he's retreated into himself. And George… oh, George. He hasn't left his room since the funeral. Never comes out. I've spent whole nights camped out by his door and I've never heard a sound. I don't know how to help him, Harry."

"I think just knowing you're there will help him. It is all going to take some time. For everyone," Harry explained patiently.

"Oh, and of course Mum thinks I'm an ice cold bitch for not crying for Fred. Just because I haven't cried doesn't mean I'm not sad he's gone. Most days I can barely breathe past the tension in the house. Everyone walking on eggshells. I don't know how long I can keep doing this," Ginny muttered, heaving a huge sigh before turning her head slightly to look at Harry. Looking back at her, Harry could see that while her eyes were dry, they were stark and bleak with helplessness and despair.

"Do what, Gin?"

"Try and hold everyone together. I've been making the dinners that no one eats; we've got so much food now I should have brought some with me for you two. I've been trying to talk to Mum, Dad, Ron. Even just a simple 'morning' and that gets ignored. The house would have been infested with Doxies after you two left, because everyone is just content to wallow - I've done the cleaning, the cooking, the laundry… and everyone is just sitting there!" Ginny shouted the last two words and immediately covered her mouth, looking toward the stairs, breathing heavily. When Hermione didn't come down the stairs, or give any indication that she had been disturbed, Ginny sighed and leaned her head back against the chair. Her eyes closed, jaw taut from clenching her teeth but her breathing didn't slow down.

"Breathe, Ginny. You're going to pass out." Ginny took a deep, gasping breath and turned sorrowful eyes to Harry.

"I just want to feel something other than this," Ginny spread her arms out, "Even for a little while." Ginny reached her hand out and brushed her fingers along his hand. Harry's swift intake of breath was the only indication that he'd noticed. Their eyes met.

"Ginny…."

"I know what I said. And I stand by it. No strings, no expectations. Just a fun time, so we can… leave all this behind for a bit. I know you haven't been sleeping, either," Ginny murmured, sliding her hand up his arm to rest on his cheek. Harry sighed and closed his eyes, and Ginny took her chance to lean over and press her lips to his. It was gentle, and sweet. When they pulled apart, Ginny stood and held out her hand to him. Harry took it, and led her past the kitchen into the hallway beyond.

A/N: Hey everyone! My apologies for the extra long hiatus from writing - I have been quite busy and was not in the writing mindset. I have also really struggled with this last chapter, so I am aware that this might not be my best work. Going forward, I will only be updating one story at a time until completion. I have yet to decide which one to work on, but you will find out soon which one!