A/N: Hello! Here's a story that came into my head and wouldn't leave so I had to write it down. I hope you enjoy it. It's just a one-shot for now, but I'm open to continuing it if I get a good response from it. Y'all let me know what you think. Thanks for reading!

He's gone away, for to stay a little while.
But he's comin' back if he goes ten thousand miles.
Oh, who will tie my shoes?
And who will glove my hand?
And who will kiss my ruby lips when he is gone?
Oh, he's gone. Look away, over yandro.

Hermione Granger lay quietly in the four poster bed in her room in Grimmauld Place. She was staring, unfocused, at the patterns in the plaster on the ceiling and had been since she woke up some time before… she didn't know how long it had been.

She should really get up...

She had to use the loo… and brush her teeth...

She'd just lay here for a little while longer...

There was a little more time before she had to get dressed...

She sighed dejectedly, maybe she just wouldn't go…. Ugh, but that wasn't exactly an option. Harry and the Weasleys wouldn't forgive her if she didn't.

Still she didn't make any move to get up. Her eyes drifted shut and it was as if that was a curtain call for the film to begin again in her mind's eye. She felt herself falling into the memory of endless hours spent in the dreary tent with Harry… the unceasing stomach ache caused by hunger and then the rejection of food on the rare occasion they could find any. The body and mind-numbing cold. Sometimes she still felt that way. Numb. If she were completely honest with herself she felt that way more often than not. She did right now, but it was easier that way. She almost liked it.

A sharp sound had her reaching for her wand before she realized someone had knocked at the door. For a moment she'd been back in the tent with untold dangers at every turn.

"Hermione? We've got to go in a half hour…" Harry called through the door. She felt a little shame creep under the numbness; she knew he worried about her. As if he hadn't done enough for everyone now he felt he had to fix her.

"Hermione?"

"I'm up." She called. "I'll be down in a bit." She waited a few moments until he finally walked away. She had to get her shit together so he'd stop worrying about her. She just wanted to be left alone…

After a few more minutes of nothing, she finally heaved herself into a sitting position. Dammit. She did not want to go. And now she had to rush to get ready when all she wanted to do was lie here and possibly go back to sleep.

She made it downstairs just inside her allotted half hour and saw Harry pacing in the kitchen. He didn't want to do this either, but Molly insisted. Hell, everyone insisted that Harry be there… their Savior couldn't be absent from the service recognizing the first anniversary of the fall of Tom Riddle.

She grudgingly shrugged into her 'being around people' façade and wrapped her arms around Harry. "You okay?" She asked him, her voice muffled by the fabric of his robes.

He hugged her back and pressed his cheek to her hair. "Are any of us?"

She gave a soft mirthless laugh, "I don't know."

"I guess it just takes time." He said bracingly and gave her a final squeeze before stepping away. "You look lovely, by the way."

She looked down at her plain black dress. "You're sweet." It was nice of him to say, but no one looked good in mourning attire.

They flooed to the Burrow and from there they traveled with the all the Weasleys, minus Fred of course, to Hogwarts for the service. She was thankful that she, Harry, and Ron weren't being recognized this time. This was more of a memorial. The celebratory activities for the anniversary would probably begin next year… this year it was still too fresh in everyone's minds. The wounds still too fresh. So they all sat through a service that no one wanted to attend but all felt as though they should. She knew all about survivor's guilt and post-traumatic stress disorder. She knew that they were all suffering from it to some degree, herself the worst of those in their group.

Arriving back at the Burrow for lunch she surveyed those in attendance and saw the same dark circles on several faces that adorned her own. Yes, they were all suffering the aftereffects of fighting a war. Intermingled with the giddy relief of being free from Voldemort's hideous oppression and evil plans there were times of sorrow and despair. But she looked around at those gathered and watched them begin to shed the somber mood of the morning and restore the Burrow to a close approximation of its usual cheerful atmosphere. She worked up a smile as Bill handed her a glass of the wine that she favored, but it fell immediately as he turned away. She snuck out the backdoor, unable to handle the crowd and the noise and any shred of happiness. She just couldn't deal with it right now… or any time in the foreseeable future really.

She hurried to the tree line, hoping to get out of the garden before she was spotted abandoning the house. Breathing a sigh of relief she made it to the woods without anyone calling her back and let the shade and silence wash over her. This was much better. Meandering slowly with no real destination in mind, she felt both guilty and ashamed of herself. She had lost no more than the people inside, why couldn't she climb out of this?

The guilt increased even more when she came to a small pond and saw someone who had every right to feel this way where she did not. George sat on a large boulder, his legs drawn up nearly to his chin and his arms resting across them. He appeared to be engaged in her favorite activity of late: staring blankly. Her feet carried her towards him at the same time that her mind told her to find somewhere else to sit and stare. He obviously wanted to be alone. She quietly climbed up beside him and mimicked his posture without a word. Hopefully he wouldn't mind her presence… he gave no acknowledgement either way.

Her eyes found a lily pad and her gaze stopped there… not really seeing it. It was strange doing the sitting and staring thing with someone else. Not that they were really interacting, but still. It was different. Sometimes at home she'd sit in the bottom of the bathtub while the shower ran staring unseeing at the faucet, part of her drawing it out, hoping that Harry would check on her. Hoping he would come in and ask why she was sitting in the bathroom in the dark… wanting him to scoop her up and rescue her from her own mind. I'm not okay and I don't know what to do about it! She wanted to be noticed yet at the same time undisturbed, left to wallow in her own numbness. She sometimes liked the numbness. It was easier than all the feelings that threatened to swallow her up. She didn't know what to do with herself anymore.

Her thoughts turned to George sitting beside her. Now, here was someone who was allowed to wallow in despair. He had lost his twin, that piece of himself, when Fred had been killed in the final battle. She didn't know how he functioned without him; they had been like two sides of the same coin. She felt sorrow and pity creeping up again wondering about how George was even functioning. She might be edging toward apathy lately, but the loss of Fred broke through it for now.

Without really thinking about it, she leaned towards George and closed the few inches between them, laying her head on his shoulder. They sat that way for some time and she hoped he took the contact as silent support as there wasn't anything else to offer. He'd heard all the trite, and frankly insulting, condolences of 'he didn't feel any pain', and 'he died a hero' and 'time heals all wounds', and she'd be damned before she started spouting that tripe to him. Because some wounds never heal. They stay scabbed up and angry… you could forget about them for a time... but then life would poke you right in the tender spot and start the bleeding all over again. Sometimes they split open of their own accord and left you bloodied and broken without warning.

George broke her out of her thoughts as he shifted slightly to let his head rest on top of hers. Encouraged by his simple movement she pushed away the numbness and reached for her empathy again; could she offer any comfort that he would actually want to receive? She unwound her arms from around her knees and wrapped both hands around his bicep, linking her fingers together on top of his arm and leaned her knees against his leg. They sat this way for several quiet minutes before he responded to her touch by resting one of his hands on top of hers and giving her a small squeeze. She was grateful when he left it there. She'd started out trying to give comfort, but the feel of his cheek resting on her hair and his hand on hers was actually giving her some. She wasn't alone in this scary place where all she wanted to do was sit and stare. She had a sit and stare friend. A partner in commiseration. A voice in the back of her head pointed out that they both probably should seek some professional help.

She blinked out of another daze when George broke the silence. "I'm thinking about closing the shop."

"Oh." She urged her brain to get into gear and tried to make no reaction, wondering what he needed from her that he made this confession. The rest of the family would try to talk him out of it… maybe he just needed a neutral sounding board right now. She settled on simply asking "Why?"

His sigh fluttered her fringe and she squeezed his arm gently. "Fred handled the paperwork side of everything… I haven't been keeping up. I'm going to go under at this rate."

"What about hiring someone?" She'd hate to see him lose the shop for something like that… she'd thought he didn't want to do with without Fred, not that he was having trouble keeping it running.

"It's got to the point that I can't afford to… and honestly, I don't want some stranger there… sitting at his desk."

She gave his arm a squeeze but didn't know what to say to that. Silence descended on them again but his confession had kicked her analytical side into gear. She made a quick pros vs. cons list in her head before she spoke, it seemed a good idea at first glance.

"Can I make a proposition?" She asked a little timidly.

"G'head." He replied and her heart broke a little more that he didn't come back with a remark about being propositioned. She hoped he'd heal enough to find humor in things again someday.

"I could come do your books for you. I don't have to use his desk either, I get that." She said quietly, wondering if she were overstepping. He didn't immediately reply, which she took as a good sign.

"I wouldn't be able to pay you. For several months probably… but I know if there was anyone who could get me organized, it'd be you." She was pleased by his compliment.

"Well, what if you compensate me with free room and board instead? Isn't there a third bedroom in your flat?" She'd never suggest moving into Fred's room; George would probably never be able to box up his brother's things and it would be like sacrilege to live in Fred's space.

"I didn't know you wanted to move," he sounded surprised.

"Well, Harry and Ginny deserve their own space. Not that they'd ever ask me to leave but I'm pretty sure I bring down the mood in the lovebirds' nest." She'd been feeling awkward about it for a while now; she just hadn't had the energy to look for a new place.

"What about your job? It'd be full time keeping me in check." He said with a slight trace of wry humor.

"I wouldn't miss that job at all. Every morning I work with an eye on the clock, counting down to lunch. Every afternoon I work with my eye on the clock, counting down to five."

"Huh." He acknowledged that she spoke and appeared to be thinking it over. She let him contemplate in silence while she also examined it a bit more closely.

As the silence expanded she felt a little awkward for being so forward, he might not want to open his home to her. They were friends and all, but she totally understood not wanting people in your space.

Eventually she had to break the silence. "I just thought it might be mutually beneficial and I'd hate to see you close the shop for something like that but it won't hurt my feelings if you'd rather not."

"No, I'm not opposed to it. Let me think about it for a bit, yeah?" He asked and lifted his head off of hers.

She straightened to look up at him, "'Course. I'll leave you be then. Thanks for sharing your rock with me." She gave him a small smile.

"Anytime, sweets." He squeezed her hands as she slid them off of his arm and watched her stand.

She stood and smoothed down the skirt of her dress. She looked down at him and this time empathy came unlooked for: his eyes were nearly empty and yet slightly lost. Poor George. He glanced up at her when she made no move to leave and they studied each other. She leaned down, gently grasped his face between her hands, and pressed a kiss to his forehead. He blinked up at her and she smiled sadly, turned, and walked quietly away. If he had been Harry she'd have added "love you" before she left but as much as she cared about him, she and George had never had any heart to hearts before and that would've just made it awkward... as if her asking to move in with him wasn't awkward enough. She cringed a bit, at the thought.

She meandered slowly back to the house in no hurry to join the throng. Hopefully she could just make her excuses and leave. They were all sort of used to her flaking out by now. In the aftermath of the war she'd thrown herself into the rebuilding efforts but after the immediate needs had been met and skilled labor was required for the remainder, she had just run out of steam. She had moved into Grimmauld place with Harry, followed quickly by Ginny, and taken the first job she'd been offered which was in the department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. She didn't like it, but didn't really have a justifiable reason for her dislike. The work wasn't very challenging but it was something different every week which should have captured her interest. But it seemed nothing captured her interest lately. She should probably go see someone… there were potions that could help her cope with the PTSD and depression that she suffered from. But she just didn't feel like it. That was the summary of her life at the moment, for the last eight months or so really- I just don't feel like it.

She met Harry and Ron and a couple others in the back garden, the party apparently having spilled out of the house.

Harry handed her the glass of wine she'd abandoned earlier. "Is George alright?" He asked quietly. She blinked at him, surprised that he'd followed her into the woods. "Molly asked me to see where the two of you went… you know how much she worries about him. I saw you two by the pond; it seemed like he let you closer than he's let anyone for a while so I thought it best to leave you to it."

"He's as well as he could be I suppose. We didn't really talk about anything. We just sat there and stared at the water." She fibbed slightly, not wanting to betray his confidence. Ron grimaced; apparently he'd been hopeful that George had finally opened up to someone. He had with the news about the shop, but she'd keep that to herself.

Harry nodded, "Still, he didn't run you off."

"That's an improvement." Ron confirmed.

She made some non-committal sound and sipped her wine. She had a feeling that George would appreciate it if people would stop asking after him every time they saw him and just let him heal in his own time.

She bided her time and made small talk with the Weasleys that came her way and kept one eye on the clock. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy their company… she didn't have the energy to participate in things like this. She just wanted to go home. Just as she was about to make good her escape she saw George emerge from the woods and quickly scan the people milling about until his eyes stopped on her. He made his way over to her and she wondered if he could've made a decision about her working at the shop already. Perhaps he just wanted to talk over the finer points first…

"Sure you want to do this?" He asked with no preamble.

"Yeah, 'course." She responded without hesitation. Maybe a change of scenery was what she needed. Maybe George needed to not go home to an empty flat every night either.

He studied her hard for a moment, hands stuffed into his pockets. "Alright then. When do you start?"

She blinked in surprise, taken aback but pleased by his quick acceptance of her suggestion. "Erm, well I do have to give some notice… we don't have anything important at the moment so I can probably do just one week's notice. So Monday after next? But I can come by and work some this weekend and try and get you caught up on paying what bills you can and whatnot"

"Well, I'm closed Sunday and Monday. That's my weekend."

"Oh that's right. Well, the ministry is closed today and tomorrow for the anniversary and then it's the weekend. Why don't I come by tomorrow and sort of assess what you've got going on and then we'll go from there?" He nodded. "And what about me moving in?"

"I'm alright with it. There's plenty of space and…" he paused as if unsure if he wanted to continue. "Being alone there… the silence…" He moved his shoulders uncomfortably and looked away.

"Okay." She stepped in, not wanting to watch him struggle for words; she got it. "When do you want me to move in then?"

He shrugged again and cleared his throat. "Whenever you want to, just let me know. There's a bed and everything already in there by the way."

"Oh. Well I don't have much to move then. We'll talk about it tomorrow, yeah?"

"Yeah, sure." He started to turn away, but hesitated. "Listen… no one knows that I'm in trouble, much less how close I am to losing the shop. So can we just tell people you need a change of pace or something and not that you're saving my arse?" He rolled his eyes, "You know how mum worries already…"

"That's fine." She smiled and then looked quickly around. "I'm leaving… tell everyone I said goodnight?"

"Not bloody likely, if you're leaving so am I. If you're going now I won't look so bad if I go, too."

"Fine. Let's just tell Harry and Ron then, they'll cover for us."

It took them only a few minutes to say goodbye to Harry and Ron and convince them to tell Mrs. Weasley that George had work at the shop to do tonight to cover his early departure. They walked to the Apparition point together and stood a little awkwardly for a moment.

"Well, I'll see you tomorrow…" Hermione offered.

"Yeah. I'll have a key made for you in the morning."

"You'd better tell your mum that you'll be living with a woman." She said with a hint of a smile, wondering what Mrs. Weasley would think about that… Hermione imagined that at the end of the day she'd be relieved that George wouldn't be by himself now.

"Ha, yeah. You tell Harry and I'll tell Mum. She'll be fine with it… if not… I'm twenty-two, what's she going to do?"

They Disapparated to their respective residences and Hermione surveyed what she needed to pack. She actually felt a twinge of excitement that had been absent for many months. The prospect of doing something meaningful for a friend made her feel a bit less inclined to sit and stare at things this evening. Instead she surveyed her room and conjured a few boxes. She opened her wardrobe and sent some of her clothes into the nearest boxes. She spent about half an hour packing before she realized that that was pretty much everything. That was sad. She could pack up her entire life to move in half an hour? Ugh. She was going to bed.

. . . . . . . . .

Friday morning she only stared at the ceiling for about an hour before she talked herself into getting out of bed. George needed her help and time was of the essence. She got ready, shrank her boxes into her beaded bag, and headed down stairs, surprising Harry and Ginny at the table in the kitchen.

"You're up before noon!" Harry said with a surprised smile. "Are you doing something today?"

"Erm, yeah actually… I'm helping George at the joke shop." Her announcement was met with complete and utter silence. She worked up a laugh at their dumbfounded expressions. "He mentioned to me yesterday that he's looking for someone to help him with the bookkeeping and I told him I'd do it."

"Oh, okay. Just this once? I mean, doesn't he need someone more permanent?" Ginny asked, sipping her tea.

"Well, you know how I don't really like my job?" She asked and Harry nodded slowly, looking as though he didn't believe the conclusion he'd come to. "I'm going to quit and go to work for George."

"Wait, wait, wait." Ginny held up a hand as Harry stared wide-eyed. "You mean to tell me that you, Hermione Granger, are quitting your job at the Ministry of Magic... to work in a joke shop."

"Well it sounds a bit mad when you put it that way, but essentially, yes."

"I see." Ginny said quietly, seemingly for lack of anything else to say.

"Oh, and I'm moving in with him so you two can have the house to yourselves." They both stared at her in shock at this. Hermione sighed and rubbed her forehead. "Look, I think we can all agree that a change of pace would probably be good for me, yeah?" They both gave her pitying glances and nodded; her descent into apathy had not gone unnoticed. "And that it would probably be good for George to not live there all by himself anymore, yeah?" They nodded again, making sounds of agreement. "So it's really not as mad as you think it is at first."

. . . . . . . . .

Hermione walked into WWW just before eleven and surveyed the shop. It was satisfactorily busy for a weekday morning during the school year. She headed to the back of the store and found George stocking shelves.

"Alright, George?" She asked, walking up.

"Oh brilliant, I can make someone else do this later then." He said, abandoning his work. "Come on up and I'll show you how much trouble you're in… remind me to buy you lunch today, you're going to hate me when you see everything."

"Oh dear…" They headed up the steps to the second floor which was an open space with several desks. He gestured her to one of them that was absolutely overrun with unopened post. "Oh… George…"

He sheepishly scratched the back of his head. "I… I just got overwhelmed. I got overwhelmed and I didn't know where to start so I just… didn't."

"You are indeed buying me lunch. And dinner." She asserted, eyeing the mountain of paper before her. "I guess I'll get started… come check on me every now and then and make sure I haven't been crushed in an avalanche of paper."

He wished her "good luck!" and scurried away before she could change her mind- or beat him for his sins.

She stared at it for a moment, also overwhelmed and not knowing where to start. She ended up just picking an envelope at random and opening it. It was an overdue notice for the water bill, threatening to turn the water off, she checked the calendar, Tuesday. Brilliant. She started a stack for urgent bills. She steadily worked her way through it, starting stacks of bills by vendor, a stack for orders and so on.

She was nearly through opening all the post when George came up the steps bearing boxes which she hoped contained lunch.

"If you don't have food you'd better go right back downstairs George Weasley." She said with a hand on her hip.

"No it's lunch. Wow, you've made a lot of progress for only two hours!" He said quickly, clearly hoping that food and flattery would keep him out of trouble.

"Do you have time to sit and eat with me so we can talk about some of this?" She asked as she accepted a proffered box.

"Indeed I do." He grabbed his desk chair and rolled it over to where she sat in the floor surrounded by stacks of paper.

"Alright. How much money do you have available right now?" She asked, picking up her sandwich.

"Well, I have some deposits I need to make…"

"George."

He huffed out a breath. "I don't know."

"You don't know." She repeated incredulously. He shook his head and had the good grace to look ashamed.

"Wow. Well… how do you feel about putting me on the account so that I can do the banking for you then?"

"Would you do that? Seriously?" He asked, pausing with his sandwich halfway to his mouth.

"I would. Let's go to Gringotts after we eat." She took a bite and chewed as she rethought her game plan. "How much do you have to deposit?" He hesitated in answering. "Just be honest, George. This will get done much faster and less painfully the more information you give me."

"I haven't made a deposit in at least three weeks." He confessed, setting his sandwich aside and propping his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands.

"Okay. That'll be the first order of business. Are the deposits ready to go to the bank or do they need balanced or whatever?" She tried not to feel overwhelmed, reminding herself that it would take a couple of months to get WWW back on track.

"No, they're good to go. Verity closes everything out at the end of the day and records all the transactions and everything. I just haven't taken them." He looked relieved that he finally had a positive answer to give her. She was certainly relieved about it.

"Well good, we need to get some money in the bank because they're shutting the water of Tuesday and you're three months behind with your rent. We need to get those paid today."

They finished their lunch as they discussed deciding how much to pay, to whom, and when. And she hadn't even finished going through everything yet. When they finished eating they walked down the street to Gringott's and added her to the company's accounts. She tried to ignore the glares of the goblins but it was difficult. They would never forget that she had successfully broken in, stolen something out of a high-security vault, released their dragon, and destroyed the lobby.

"Well, that was only the most awkward experience of my life." George said jokingly as they walked back out.

"Merlin, I think I'm sweating!" she said, fanning herself dramatically with her copy of the paperwork. "Honestly though… that was really bad." She giggled as they headed back to the shop. "So, I really don't think you're in as bad of shape as you thought, George." She remarked.

"Really?" He said, sounding shocked.

"Well, the store has kept doing really good business, and according to the balance sheet we got just now, you've got enough money to get caught back up on the urgent notices that I've found so far. I've also been finding owl-order forms in there so there's more than just bills in all that mess."

"I think I love you." He said earnestly as he opened the door for her.

"That's what they all say." She said lightly as she preceded him in the shop. "Come show me where the checkbook is so I can get you out of immediate trouble."

She sent payments to the landlord and the water department, took the order forms that she'd found downstairs so the employees could get started filling those to get some more money in the door, and set to work on sorting the rest of the post. Several hours later she was ready to sing the Hallelujah Chorus as she finally started seeing the wooden surface of the desk through the envelopes. She looked at her watch as she placed the last missive on its correct pile. Good lord, it was nearly seven. The store would be closing any minute. So much for only working a couple of hours. She straightened up and stretched, her muscles sore from hunching over all afternoon, and surveyed the organized chaos that was her immediate area. She heard George coming up the stairs and turned to see his reaction to seeing the desk clear of papers. He turned the corner and stopped in his tracks, his eyes taking in the multitude of stacks spread on the floor and the paper-free desk.

"Hermione, you are my hero."

"Heroine."

"Yeah, that. Whatever." He stepped closer and scratched his head in a nervous gesture. "Well, what's the damage?"

"I don't really know yet. I've sorted it but only had time to look at a few. I'll work on that tomorrow." He nodded. "You don't have a computer do you?"

"A what?" He asked, still looking overwhelmed.

"That's a no then. The muggles have a brilliant way of organizing information like this. It'll help me stay organized. I'm going to go buy one tomorrow and you can pay me back once we get you caught up."

"Brilliant." He absently held out his closed fist and dropped a key into her open palm. "Here's your key, Roomie." He sent her a small smile. "Shall I show you your room?" She nodded and followed him to another set of stairs the led up to the third floor flat. She'd only been up there once or twice, but remembered that she was surprised at how nice it was. Unlocking the door he held it open for her. She could get used to the chivalry, that was like the fourth door he'd held open just today. She entered the spacious living area… the whole building had been some sort of warehouse so the walls were brick, the ceilings had high exposed beams and the floors were old, weathered wood. She loved it.

"Your room's to the left there," he pointed, "and mine's across to the right. We've both got our own loo, so there's a good bit of privacy." He gestured to her to go look at the room and she opened the door to see a spacious bedroom lovely queen sized bed.

"Oh, this is lovely." She said, somewhat surprised by how much she liked it.

"I can't take credit; Angelina did the whole place for us…" He trailed off and she knew he was remembering Fred. He cleared his throat. "Anyways, it's yours whenever you're ready."

"Well, I've actually got my things with me… there wasn't much." She raised her beaded bag as evidence. "Is that too quick?"

He looked surprised but shook his head. "Not at all. Well… you work on getting settled then and I'll go get us some takeaway. Any requests?"

"No, whatever you like is fine."

With the amazing tool that was magic, she was nearly finished when he returned with the food. They ate quietly together at the obviously rarely used kitchen table before parting for the night. She lay in the comfortable bed staring at a new ceiling for an hour or so before she fell asleep, this time idly tracing patterns in wood grain instead of plaster.

She awoke the next morning to the sounds of George moving about the flat, the soft noises echoing off the wooden floors and brick walls. She rolled onto her back and stared out of the window this time, as she watched the sun climb over the roof of the building next door. She let him leave before she could talk herself into getting out of bed. It wasn't the struggle it was to get up for her normal job so that was nice. She was honestly really looking forward to turning in her notice on Monday. She imagined that George would let her work whatever hours she'd like as long as she kept up with everything. Thoughts on helping George, she got herself up for another day of sorting.

The first order of business was a computer. She spent the better part of the morning traveling to Muggle London and back to make the acquisition. Once she was back she settled in at the desk and got to work on entering all the bills into the program and filing away the paper copies. George dropped her off some lunch but as it was Saturday the store was much busier and he went back downstairs to eat his own while he worked. The hours passed mostly unnoticed as she ploughed through the stacks. She was truly in her element now: organizing. Making structure out of chaos. By close that evening she'd found several more bills that needed paying immediately and sent payments with the shop's owl, Parsnip. She reached down for the next stack and realized that she'd gotten through them all. Every single bill had been entered into the computer and filed away in the filing cabinet. Brilliant.

As she and George ascended the steps to their apartment she was giving him a rundown of her accomplishments. "….so now I need you to prioritize your vendors say, the top five in order of most important. I haven't looked at the numbers yet, but I doubt we have enough money to catch up on all the debt right away so we need to get your accounts settled with the important ones first so you can keep supplies coming in, yeah?"

George seemed a little dazed by the amount of information she'd just thrown at him and nodded. "Brilliant… are you working tomorrow?"

"No, I don't think so. I think I've got you caught up enough to wait the week until I can start full time." She toed off her shoes and left them near the door.

"I'm absolutely amazed at how quickly you got through all of that." He commented, also ditching his shoes and hanging his jacket on the peg on the wall. She smiled in thanks and they went on their way.

The last week of work at the Ministry crawled by with numerous comments of shock and dismay at her departure. Living with George was surprisingly easy. They both kept to themselves for the most part. With his permission she'd brought Crookshanks over after a visit with Harry with Ginny and he enjoyed exploring the new space. They took turns fixing dinner, George had apparently benefited from helping his mother in the kitchen because he turned out to be a better cook than Hermione.

Her first week at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was busy, to say the least. She had finally determined a bottom line and it was not pretty. George had gotten significantly in debt. With late fees and interest charges, it would be at least three months before WWW was operating at a profit again. With his help they prioritized the payments and by Wednesday had sent the most important ones, Thursday she sent letters with partial payments to some and Friday sent letters with only promises to still others. Saturday she spent in accounts receivable sending bills to people who owed them money. That was much more encouraging as it seemed George had also gotten behind there and had quite a bit that should be coming in soon. She was surprised and pleased to learn that shops as far away as America and New Zealand were carrying some of WWW's products.

Sunday her lethargy caught up with her and she spent the majority of the day in her room. She felt extremely pleased with the work she'd put in during the week, but now the numbing apathy was creeping up on her once more. She spent hours in bed, idly petting Crookshanks and watching the shadows of the beams migrate across the ceiling with the sun. She didn't hear much of anything from George's room. She wondered if he wasn't doing the same thing she was. Eventually she could no longer ignore the hunger pains and got up to shuffle into the kitchen. George's door was open and she could see that he was lying face down on his bed, she paused near the door. Her eyes focused on his back… he was breathing. She left him there and poured herself a bowl of cereal before returning to her bed.

The next week passed quickly as well. She spent each morning at her desk going through the post which contained many replies from those she'd written to the week before. It seemed many of them were very glad to see that George was making an effort to get back on top of things. She knew that nearly everyone loved George and they had all been sorry to watch him struggle with the loss of his brother. In the afternoons, if she was caught up, she would spend time in shipping and receiving packing up owl-orders. Once they were out of the red she might to suggest that he hire someone to work back there full time instead of trying to find the time to do them himself. The faster they went out, the faster the money came in. They settled into the new routine very smoothly, George was more than ready to hand over the administrative side of things to her and return his focus to the store itself. She wondered if he'd be ready to start inventing new products again soon. That would be a relief to all of them, but she knew it was so hard for him to do by himself.

Upstairs in the flat their routine continued much as the first weekend had done. Most nights they would eat a quiet meal together before going to their respective rooms, the weekends were also quiet and both of them kept to their rooms for nearly the whole time. The nights were so quiet, she wondered if they didn't both Silence their rooms so that neither heard the other's nightmares. Sometimes Crookshanks would leave her room and go paw at George's closed door, perhaps he could hear or sense something that she couldn't. She began to wonder if their living together wasn't a bad idea… here there was no one to pull them out of their rooms and make them shower and go outside.

More time passed, each day another bill was paid in full and George seemed to be just a bit lighter, apparently reveling in the release of guilt about his debts. Well, at work he was lighter. Once they were back upstairs he returned to his sullen sit and stare self.

She was having a particularly bad day one Sunday about a month after she moved in, the apathy was in full swing and she had no desire to do anything at all. She hadn't even eaten. She just lay curled around a pillow, staring at the wall. At some point George stuck his head in and she looked at him without speaking. He looked a bit ragged, wearing an old Quidditch jersey and sweatpants, obviously un-showered and unshaven. He stood in the doorway for a moment looking at her with an unreadable expression on his face. After a moment of silent staring at each other, he moved into the room and crossed to stand next to the bed. She shifted to look up at him, but still neither spoke. For some reason the afternoon they spent by the pond at the Burrow crossed her mind and she scooted to the far side of the bed in the only invitation he was going to get. Maybe he needed to sit and stare with a partner today. She wouldn't mind. He stared for another moment and then climbed in, settling himself on his back; his hands clasped over his stomach and stared at the ceiling. Her view of the spot she'd been studying on the wall was now obstructed so she too rolled onto her back. They lay in silence for so long that she started to doze when he spoke up.

"How many nails in the ceiling?"

"Two hundred seventy four." She answered automatically.

"Knots in the wood?"

"Eighty six."

The silence resumed and eventually he turned onto his stomach and fell asleep. She decided to stare at him, since he was a new addition to her room. Why had he come in here? She wasn't good company. It was sort of pleasant though, almost a relief to let someone in on what happened on the bad days, to let someone actually see the nothingness that she felt. A relief to know that someone else felt it too, something similar anyways. Eventually, it got uncomfortable staring at him so she turned to face the wall as he slumbered on. She wondered if his depression was caused by solely by missing Fred or if he had a touch of the PTSD that plagued her? She could diagnose herself pretty easily, but couldn't fix it. She couldn't bring herself to seek help either. She just didn't want to. A tear leaked unnoticed out of her eye and was absorbed by the pillow. Maybe she just wasn't ready. Maybe she just wanted to be sad for a little while longer… sometimes the wallowing was nice. Despite the emptiness, it meant she didn't have to put effort into anything.

. . . . . . . .

Lights flashed and stone trembled as she sprinted through the corridors. Harry, Ron, Percy, and the twins running with her. She felt hexes fly past her and heard feet thundering in pursuit. Harry stopped and turned to fight, despite her screams to keep running; they were outnumbered! Damn his inability to run from a fight.

Cursing Harry and the situation she spun around and crouched low behind an empty plinth to fire back at their pursuers as the Weasley men also took any cover they could find and went on the offensive. Her stomach filled with dread as curses of all different colors rained down on them from the unseen Death Eaters. Suddenly there was a huge explosion and the entire castle trembled, she shrieked and covered her head with her arms as debris rained down on them. When the rumbling stopped she looked up into the dust-filled air. The Death Eaters were cut off from them now by they tumbled stone of what used to be the ceiling and the exterior wall. She stood shakily looking for her friends. She saw Harry scrambling out of an alcove and turned to look for the others. Her heart stopped as she caught a glimpse of dusty red hair amid the rubble. Racing to the fallen Weasley she quickly and carefully moved chunks of stone. She saw it was one of the twins… who was missing his right ear.

"George!" She shouted, tapping his face as Harry joined in the frantic effort to free him. No response. "No! George!" She felt along his throat for a pulse but there was nothing but her own frantic heartbeat echoing in her ear.

She sat bolt upright with a dramatic gasp, tears already in her eyes. George! Oh, god that had been horrible. Just a dream, she reminded herself, thank Merlin just a dream. They hadn't lost anyone else. He was fine. Just a dream. She lay back down and took a deep breath. Just a dream. Nothing happened… it wasn't working. Tears were now sliding gently down her face despite her attempts to calm down. She spent three more minutes trying to calm herself before she gave up. She got quietly out of bed and rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. It did nothing to slow the tears. Crookshanks followed her silent walk across the living room to George's door. She opened it as quietly as she could and peeked inside. She could make out his dark form, but that was it. She crept closer and tried to see his face in the dark… looked for the telltale movements of steady breathing but there wasn't enough light. She took the final steps to the edge of the bed but before she could do anything else she was shocked into stillness by the sharp press of wood into her throat.

"George…" she whispered, surprised by how suddenly he moved but instantly chagrined that she'd tried to sneak up on a sleeping war veteran. It was impossible.

"Fuck, Hermione, you scared the hell outta me." He lowered his wand and relaxed into a sitting position. "What are you doing?" He asked, raking a hand through his hair.

"I…" Her voice trembled, "I had a bad dream." Ugh, she sounded like a child.

He didn't appear to judge her and she knew it was because he had undoubtedly had his own share of nightmares in the last year. "Are you okay?" He asked, his voice laced with understanding.

"No… you…" she hiccupped, she just wanted a hug. "You died." She said quietly.

"Oh love, come here. I'm fine." He made room for her and opened his arms and she all but dove into them. "I'm alright, it was just a dream." She wrapped her arms around him and buried her head against his chest. He arranged them comfortably and pulled the covers up to her shoulders. She was overcome with tears for a moment and was so thankful that he hadn't sent her away. Instead he was holding her while she cried, his large hand rubbing soothingly up and down her back. After a few minutes she calmed down and began to be embarrassed at her actions, embarrassed that she'd just jumped into bed with him.

"I'm sorry," she whispered against his skin, not wanting to leave the comfort.

"S'ok. He said quietly against her hair. "Nobody's free of them these days." She relaxed against him and enjoyed the comforting feeling of a warm body next to her. She'd never really lain in bed like this with a man before. There were a couple of nights where she and Harry had ended up sharing a bunk, but it was purely to survive a brutally cold night. They had worn every bit of clothing they owned, had tucked her sleeping bag inside his and clung to each other for warmth, unable to tolerate the cold to keep a watch. It had not been a pleasant experience. This, on the other hand, was very pleasant now that she was done crying. Pleasant and interesting. His scant chest hair tickled her nose, she could feel the coarseness of his leg hair against her own bare legs and he was just so… large. His chin was on top of her head and her toes didn't reach past mid-shin. It was remarkably nice though… cocooned in his warm bed, wrapped in strong arms. After a few minutes she could feel his arms beginning to slacken around her and his breathing slow. She was sorry to go back to her room but knew she's overstayed her welcome. She slowly attempted to extricate herself from his embrace but didn't make it very far. Like her, he was a light sleeper.

He woke up with a slight start and rubbed his hand down her back again. "Don't have to go if you don't want to." He murmured sleepily into his pillow. She stilled and pondered him for a moment.

"Do you want me to stay?" She asked quietly, unsure of what she should do. This was awkward.

He seemed to wake up a little more at her question and he shifted to study her face in the dim light coming in the window off the street below. "If you like. It's nice to not be alone…"

He was certainly right about that. She knew if she went back to her room she'd lie there and see his pale, bloodied face from her dream. "Alright." She answered quietly, deciding to stay as much for him as for her. He wouldn't have offered if he didn't want her to. Even if she didn't care much for her own recovery at the moment, she would do anything she could for George.

"Kay. Turn over." He instructed and released her to turn to face away from him. Once she'd rolled over his arm wound back around her waist and pulled her back into his chest. After smoothing her hair down out of his face he settled in behind her and spoke no more. She should've known he'd be a cuddler. He was such a flirt and was rarely seen with a woman when he hadn't offered his arm or guided her through a door with his hand on her back. Some people just craved contact. She was that way sometimes, but had never had the chance to enjoy it at night. She settled in against him and he pulled her in a bit tighter like she was his teddy bear tonight.

Crookshanks hopped up onto the bed and explored, looking for the most comfortable spot. He walked up her leg and settled himself into the valley between her back and George's stomach and began purring loudly. Between the secure feeling of having George at her back and the relaxing sound of Crookshank's purrs, she drifted off to sleep quickly.

She awoke to bright sunlight streaming in through the window in much the same position as when she fell asleep. She groaned at the offensive light and reached under the pillow for her wand. Instead of her vinewood wand, she encountered George's. It occurred to her that this was the first night she'd spent without her wand under her pillow in nearly a decade. She waved his wand at the windows and they were obscured by a dark gray film that plunged the room into a twilight like darkness that was much more conducive to sleeping.

"Good job," He mumbled sleepily and rolled over, groaning slightly. She sleepily decided to follow him, feeling a little stiff from sleeping so long in one position. Only after she found herself nestled against his back, with her arm wrapped around him did she realize the ease with which they had this intimate… whatever this was. She smiled when he grasped her hand and pulled it up to his chest, keeping a gentle grip on her fingers. He was right last night: it was nice to not be alone.