Hi everyone! I'm SO sorry that I haven't posted in so long, university is keeping me busy! I'm have to work crew for an opera, and I've been cast in a show (yay!), so between crew, rehearsal, and classes, I basically live at the theatre. Please be patient with me! I hope you all enjoy this. Please review

I don't own Harry Potter.

As the days after the war turned to weeks, Hermione Granger didn't change much. She always expected that if, by some miracle, they should win the war, she would have been overjoyed and full of life after the victory.

But it wasn't so.

She wished with all of her heart that she could be happy, but she just wasn't. She spent a lot of time just staring.

Out the window, at the pond. Watching the stars, or the clouds, or the birds in the sky.

At a wall, taking in it's sheer simplicity. All one color, all one material. Solid.

And sometimes she would find herself staring into the mirror, wondering who the bloody hell was looking back at her.

Harry brought her books, but she didn't feel like reading. And Mrs. Weasley made her favorite foods, but she didn't feel like eating. Ginny made jokes, but she didn't feel like laughing. Ron was so loving, but she didn't feel she deserved it.

The inhabitants of the Burrow were filled with worry for this young woman who had once been so brave, who was now so empty. With heavy hearts, they watched her go about her days. They tried to help her as best they could, and they hoped with all of their hearts that the girl they loved would return to them.

It was a Tuesday evening, three weeks after the end of the war, when Charlie approached Hermione as she leaned against the shed, staring into the orchard. He plopped down beside her, not knowing what to say, or even why he was there. He couldn't cure this poor girl, he knew. But he felt inclined to try. Maybe it was because he'd never seen Ron so worried. Maybe because he was a Weasley, and Weasleys just cared for people. He didn't really know.

So Charlie sat by Hermione, not saying a word, and watched the sunset over the orchard. After a long while in silence, he leaned over and put his arm around her shoulders. She tensed for a moment before leaning against him, but she did. He took this as a good sign.

Soon it was dark.

"That sunset, it was almost as beautiful as I remember your laugh to be, Hermione. I do hope I get to hear it again before I leave for Romania."

And with that, he rose to his feet and walked into the burrow. He didn't see the single tear slide from her eye, the first sign of emotion she'd shown in a week.

That night Ginny woke to see Hermione sitting up in bed.

"Hermione, what is it?"

Hermione didn't answer, just kept staring at her arm. After a while, she spoke.

"It looks different in the moonlight."

"Oh, Hermione." Ginny crossed from her bed to Hermione's, wrapping her arms around the shaking brunette. As Ginny began to softly rock Hermione back and forth, she heard muffled crying. She'd never been so happy to hear crying in her entire life. This was emotion beyond screaming night terrors. Maybe Hermione was coming back to them.

So Ginny just held Hermione, murmuring gentle words, until she was able to fall asleep in the arms of her friend.

The next morning, the Mrs. Weasley was surprised and delighted to see Hermione enter the kitchen. It was early and no one else was up. Hermione made a cup of tea and sat down at the table. Molly made Hermione some toast and eggs, and nearly cried tears of joy when the young woman ate the whole plate of food. Suddenly, the girl spoke.

"Why are you all so kind to me, Mrs. Weasley? When all I do is mope about and cause you extra trouble?"

"Hermione, we love you. You went through something horrible, and you need time. Time to cope and to heal. And that's why we're here, Love. Talk to us. Please, talk to us. Help us to help you, Dear." Molly squeezed the girl's hands, and felt her own eyes sting as a single tear rolled down Hermione's cheek.

"You have such an amazing Family, Mrs. Weasley. You are all so strong and wonderful and good. And I just... I just... I want you to know that I love you, all of you. Very, very much."

There was a steady stream of tears rolling down Hermione's cheeks at this point, and Molly hugged her, murmuring, "I know, Dear. Shhh. We love you so much, Hermione. You are so loved."

Later, Hermione agreed to go swimming with Harry, Ron, and Ginny. George told Molly he wanted to reopen the shop. Molly smiled, knowing they were all beginning to heal.

Within a few days, everyone was glad to see Hermione getting better. She wasn't completely back to normal, but she smiled more. And Charlie even heard her laugh once before he left for Romania. She still had night terrors that sent Ron and Harry crashing into her room, and she still had bad days. But there was progress.
Several days passed, and Harry observed Hermione along with the other inhabitants of the Burrow. She seemed to be getting better. She smiled much more often, she even laughed occasionally. One morning, he found her in the kitchen, making some tea. Everyone else was still asleep, aside from Mrs. Weasley, who was busy in the laundry room. Harry saw her standing at the sink and took in the sight of her. She looked slightly healthier, the bags under her eyes not as pronounced. She had just showered, and her wet hair fell over her shoulder in a braid.

"Hermione, do you fancy some air? Let's go for a walk." He blurted. She looked up, surprised. Then she shrugged and followed him out the door. Harry turned down the path to the village, and Hermione followed.

"So, how's Ginny?" She asked.

"She's wonderful." Harry laughed. "She's great."

Hermione smiled and linked her arm through his. They walked in comfortable silence for a while before reaching the village. Without really knowing where he was headed, Harry walked to the bookstore. The same bookstore from which he'd been buying books and trying to get Hermione to read them. Upon entering, Hermione turned to Harry.

"You're trying to cure me, Harry. Trying to get me to read again?"

"Well... erm." Harry began. Hermione squeezed his hand.

"You know, I'd enjoy a novel, I think. A story, nothing to really learn, but something to think about... yes. A novel. Do you have any favorites?"
Harry blinked, overcome with excitement at this reaction.

"Well, um. You know I'm not much of a reader...let's see... a novel..." Harry went to the Fiction section and began to look through the shelves.

The blonde teenage girl behind the counter looked over. "Can I help you?" She asked.

"Ah. Um, yes. My friend would like a novel. Something exciting..."

"Well, do you want a fantasy novel, or a historical fiction, or... hmm." The girl joined Harry as he reached for a book with an apple on the cover.

"Oh, no, not that. Twilight is ghastly... How about The Hunger Games? Oh, I do love those books. I heard they're making them into films in America. I can't wait to see them. It's a quite exciting story."

"Hermione?" Harry asked.

"Sure." She smiled. The girl selected three books from the shelf and rang them up at the register. Harry and Hermione left shortly after, Hermione clutching the bag. She linked her arm with Harry's and put her head on his shoulder.

"Thank you." She murmured. And Harry smiled.

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

And the two best friends walked back to the Burrow, where Hermione curled up on the couch and cracked open a book for the first time since the war ended, eagerly beginning to read.

When the inhabitants of the Burrow came down as they woke, they smiled at the familiar sight of the young woman furiously turning pages. It was the closest image to the old Hermione that they had seen yet.

A week passed, and it seemed as though Hermione was back, and everyone was overjoyed. There was no screaming in the night. Hermione smiled. She laughed. She read. She scolded Ron when he swore. She seemed to be perfectly fine. And everyone was overjoyed.

George was closing up shop one evening when Hermione came in. She wore a simple blue sundress with long sleeves that covered her scar. He smiled at her appearance. She looked healthy. Her skin was sunkissed and her eyes looked so much more alive than she had a few days ago.

"Hello, George." She smiled.

"Hey, Granger. Looking for Ronniekins?" She rolled her eyes at the nickname and nodded.

"He just left, I sent him out early, just because I'm the coolest boss ever. Also, he was starting to talk about how great you are, and all of the sweetness of it made me feel sick. So I gave him the boot."

"Oh, ha ha." Hermione smiled. Just then, the last customers left the store, a woman and her son. George locked the door behind them.

"So, what are your plans for the evening, Hermione?" He asked. She didn't answer.

"Hermione?" He turned back to find her gripping the front counter so hard that her knuckles had turned white. Her eyes had seemed to dilate, and her breathing was shallow.

"Oh, no." Geroge rushed to her, putting his hands on her shoulders. "Hermione? Hermione it's okay... It's okay.. talk to me."

"That woman.. she looked... like..." Hermione gasped for breath and flushed pale. George realized that the woman had had wild dark hair. From the back, at a glace.. she would have looked like..

"Bellatrix." George growled. Hermione whimpered and her eyes glazed over.

"I didn't take anything." She mumbled.

"Oh, shit. Hermione, sit down, easy now." George lowered the young woman to the ground with him, and he wrapped his arms around her as she began to shake violently. After all of this time, he realized that she too had lost something in this war. He had lost his brother, his other half. This young woman had lost part of herself, too. A part that she could never completely get back. Her innocence.

"Talk to me. Talk through it, Hermione."

"Oh, God, George, she was so terrifying and I feel like she's on top of me again. She's pinning me down, and she's carving my arm!" George pulled Hermione against him in a hug.

"Shhh... it's okay.. I've got you." George looked frantically around, wishing Ron was here. He always knew how to calm her down.

"It was so scary. I was going to die, George. I was going to die. Part of me wanted to die. I wanted to die! Oh, God, the pain... I can almost feel it!" Hermione started to hyperventilate.
"Shhh..." George rocked her back and forth, his heart aching for her. He wondered why she was letting him in. And then he remembered what he had just thought. She knew he'd lost part of himself. She had as well. And he knew if she talked about it, she would recover sooner.

"Talk through it, Hermione. She's not here. You know she's not."

"She's not... She's dead. But I feel like I felt that night! Oh... Oh no.." Hermione let out a sob and clutched Geroge's shirt, crying loudly.

"She's gone. She'll never hurt you again."

"She's gone!" Hermione sobbed. And she repeated it over and over and over until she was no longer crying, just merely whispering. George just held her, patting her back until she sat up and wiped her eyes.

"I'm so sorry. Carrying on like a buffoon when you've lost so much more than me." She muttered.

"No. Stop it. You lost a part of yourself too, Hermione. We both did. Just in different ways. You're so strong. You're amazing. You're so good for my brother. Although what you see in that tosser I'll never know."

Hermione laughed and wiped her cheeks.

"Thank you, George. So much."

Fleur, unlike most of the other Weasley's, had known of the torture before the trio told the true story. Sure, Harry, Ron, and Hermione hadn't said what had happened that night, but she knew. She could remember that night plain as day. Sometimes, when she closed her eyes to sleep, the memories came at her in sharp detail, as though they were burned onto the insides of her eyelids.

She always remembered that she saw Ron's face first. Cut and bruised and terrified. And then her eyes focused on his arms. His arms that held a fragile young woman, her head hanging back, neck limp. Her eyes closed. Pale skin. Bruises. Scarlet blood, everywhere.

After that, it was a blur, pulling out potions and bandages and searching the corners of her mind for a charm, spell, enchantment, anything that could help this poor girl. And she remembered telling the boys the leave the room so she could wash Hermione, and then she found the scar.

And she had cried.

Over the unconscious body of a poor girl who had been fighting battles too large for anyone to fight, who now had a horrible word branded onto her for life. This girl, who Fleur had last seen at her wedding, looking beautiful and healthy, was now close to death. And her young brother in law, who was clearly so in love with this girl, was sitting outside, waiting to see if she'd live.

Fleur remembered all too well how it felt to see the one you loved ripped to shreds, how it felt to have their blood stain your hands. And so she had cried for Ron, too.

And so now, when Fleur saw Hermione beginning to grieve and heal, she felt inclined to help. She noticed Hermione sitting in the orchard one afternoon, watching Harry and Ron and Ginny play Quidditch. On a really good day, Hermione might have joined them, on bad day, she would be inside in bed. Fleur decided that this day was somewhere in the middle, and a good time to talk to her. Hermione shifted slightly and glanced at Fleur as she sat, the corner of her mouth twitching up in a small smile that Fleur knew was a "Hello." Just as Fleur sat, the a quaffle fell to the earth near them. Ron soon swooped in from the sky, hopped from his broom, and retrieved it. Fleur watched as he smiled at Hermione, and bent to leave a lingering kiss on the top of her head. Hermione's eyes fluttered closed at his touch, and she offered him a small smile as he mounted his broom and flew into the sky.

"'E Loves you, you know. Very much." Fleur said as he flew away.

Hermione's eyes glistened, and her voice sounded groggy as she said. "I know."

"And you love 'im, too."

"So much that it hurts." Hermione answered, swiping a single tear from her cheek.
"Zen let 'im 'elp you. Talk to Ron. Let 'im in. Let someone in, Cheri. We all love you."

"You saw me that night. You saw. I just... I... can't... talk about it. He's so worried about me, and I'm just awful. He deserves someone happy... someone whole. Someone brave, like him. I'm weak." She said, spitting out the last word. "There is something bloody wrong with me. And he deserves someone perfect."

"First of all, zat is ridiculous. You are zee most wonderful girl I 'ave ever met. And you are zee bravest. And...you know, 'e said zee same things when he stayed with us. You know, when 'e left. But you showed him that 'e was forgiven. 'E can show you zat everything will be okay. 'E can 'elp you feel okay again. Let 'im in. Let me in. We love you. So very much, 'Ermione." And with that, Fleur wrapped the young woman into her arms, and they watched the Quidditch game.

Fleur heard Hermione whisper a soft "Thank you." She smiled. She knew they'd be okay. Hermione would be okay, soon.

That night, Hermione snuck up to Ron's attic bedroom. As usual, she passed Harry on the stairs sneaking down to Ginny's. They smiled shyly at each other, still slightly embarrassed although it was a nightly occurence.

Upon entering Ron's room, Hermione kept across the floor and slid under the covers.

"Hey." he murmured, wrapping his arm around her. His large hand closed over her wrist, his thumb gently brushing her scar. "You're beautiful." he mumbled. In that moment she knew. She knew that this love, this overwhelming love that she felt radiating off of him, would heal her.

"Ron." She whispered. "I need you, now."

"I'm here, Hermione."

"No, I mean I need you... now." She said, sitting up and looking him in the eyes. She pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it to the floor.

Ron's eyes widened, but didn't leave hers.

"Are you sure?" He whispered.

"Ron, I need this. I need you. I need to know that you're here, and I'm here. And we're alive and everything will be okay. I need you to heal me. Please."

Ron leaned forward, kissing her, and rolling her beneath him. Soon, all remaining clothes had disappeared, and Ron gently hooked his hand in the crook of Hermione's knee, pulling it up slightly, making a cradle for his own body.

"You're sure, Hermione?" He asked, his eyes full of questions.

"Positive, Ronald." She smiled up at him, and lifted her hand to stoked his cheek. He turned his head, kissing her scar.

"I love you, Hermione."

"I love you too, Ron."

And as they joined for the first time, and began to move as one, Hermione felt a pain that grew into the sweetest sensation she'd ever felt. She left the love tingling in her fingers and toes and a warmth throughout her body that she had never felt before. And the warmth grew and grew until she wondered if she had ever really lived before this moment.

A while later, as Hermione lay next to Ron, listening to his deep breathing, she knew. She knew that she'd never really completely recover from what she's gone through.

But she also knew that she was safe. That she was loved. That she was strong. That she could overcome.

That life was going on, and she wasn't about to let it leave her behind.

Hermione Granger closed her eyes, and with a small smile on her face, drifted into a peaceful sleep.

Fin.