AN: Hey guys! So I have been a huge fan of the Harry Potter series since I was a little girl, and I always wanted to write a fanfic for it but never felt that my writing was good enough. But I finally worked up the courage, so here it is, my first Harry Potter fanfic! Not even gonna lie, I am very nervous. But there's not much I can do now that it's out there, so all I can say is that I hope you like it and thanks so much for reading!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Hermione's PoV:

She had been trying. She had been keeping it together the best that she knew how, dealing with her nightmares all alone and trying her best to tend to everybody else. They had just come out of a bloody war, after all; a few bad dreams every night weren't going to stop her from taking care of her loved ones, who she felt all had it much worse.

There was Harry: her best friend, her brother, one of her two confidants, and a war hero who blamed himself for all of the deaths from that terrible night. He felt that he had cheated Teddy out of his parents, Lavender Brown out of a future, Severus Snape out of a redemption-the list went on and on. But most of all, he felt that he had cheated Ron, as well as the rest of the Weasley family, out of a son and a brother respectively. Harry did his best to hide it, but Hermione could see clear as day how guilty he felt every time he looked at any of the Weasleys, especially George and Ron. She could see the guilt wash over his face as his worry lines deepened and his green eyes grew darker, eventually fading to the darkest shade of emerald that she had ever seen. She could see it every time he looked at the family clock, and every time they gathered for dinner and that one particular spot remained empty. And as much as both she and Ron had tried to convince him, and as much as he said that he believed them, they both knew that Harry Potter still blamed himself for the deaths of all those they lost in the battle, and there was a good chance that he always would.

Ron, on the other hand, had grown quiet. Not even a somewhat normal kind of quiet; an unnerving kind of quiet. The kind of quiet that could only be attained by experiencing great loss. They had become a couple before the battle was even officially over, and Hermione suspected that the timing of their newfound relationship was partially due to the need for some kind of light in their lives mixed with leftover adrenaline. Which wasn't to say that she doubted the genuineness of their relationship, it just explained why Ron had finally pulled his head out of his arse after all those years. But as oblivous to their personal situation as Ron had been, there was no doubting that he knew exactly the severity of the wizarding world's situation; he wasn't an idiot, after all. Most days, Ron could be found floating silently around the house, making sure to keep a close eye on his girlfriend and best mate. He no longer went outside to play Quidditch, or made somewhat crude jokes at the dinner table; instead, he gave short, gentle answers whenever he was spoken to and stayed silent when he wasn't. This Hermione had expected; Ron had somewhat of a tendency to pull away when times hit hard. But what she didn't expect was for him to increase physical contact with her: to always be holding her hand, or sitting next to her when he hadn't pulled her onto his lap. Ronald Weasley had never been a very touchy man, so for him to be so personally physical so suddenly was somewhat unnerving to her. But she accepted it nonetheless, guessing that it was his way of knowing that she was still there and wasn't leaving anytime soon.

As expected, the rest of the Weasleys behaved in their usual manners: Mrs. Weasley keeping the house clean and her children well-fed, grieving with her husband when she thought her children weren't around. Mr. Weasley was always in his shop or at work, and the three eldest Weasley boys could be found at work as well. George had reopened the joke shop after mourning the loss of his twin for a while, insisting that Fred would have wanted him to keep people laughing in a time like this. Ginny was doing her best to help her family and Hermione when she could, but often times she was angry at the loss of her friends and family and stayed shut away, only really talking to Harry and her mum.

And so Hermione felt that it was left up to her to look after her boys, knowing how hurt and paranoid they still were even after almost a month; but that, of course, was to be expected. A month didn't make up for almost a year of living in the wilderness and going through constant struggle, only ending after a devastating war. She could see it, how the war had changed the three of them: they were constantly looking over their shoulders. She had her nightmares, which as far as she knew, they were completely ignorant about. Harry had his guilt, Ron had his silence, and they both had this inane amount of overprotectiveness towards her. Hermione supposed that she really shouldn't consider it stupid, how much they had begun to worry about her now that they had the time to do so; after she had been tortured, it had changed how the boys acted around her, even if it wasn't noticeable to bystanders. They kept an eye on her more, almost as if they were afraid that she would disappear or be taken again. They put themselves in front of her more; bloody hell, they had even put themselves in front of her as much as possible during the battle. But she couldn't blame them for how much they worried, because she worried just as much about them in her own ways.

So she had been trying very, very hard to protect them, to keep them together after everything had gone to hell and completely fallen apart. Which was why they had no clue that she had been having these terrible nightmares; this was why she refused to let them see the exhaustion on her face after not sleeping soundly since the battle. Hermione knew, of course, that this wasn't healthy: she had gotten no more than about four hours of sleep every night, if that, and she needed to get help so she wouldn't kill herself trying to save everyone else.

But still, she felt the need to protect her family now more than ever, which was why her procrastination on getting help went from waiting a week after the war to almost a month after. It was why she got up before they did so she could apply minimal, unnoticeable makeup to her face so as to hide the dark circles under her eyes, and why she made sure to chug as much coffee and other sources of caffeine as possible. Her exhaustion was getting to the point of her having to take pills that contained a dose of caffeine that was far too high for her, especially as malnourished as she still was despite Molly's constant fretting. She hid the bottle under her bed so no one would see it, and made sure to take enough every day so that she could keep herself going. But she desperately needed some sleep; she needed somebody to take care of her, even if it was just for a night or two.

"No," she internally chastised herself, "Think of them first. Harry kept you going when Ron left. He always made sure that you slept and ate enough, so now you can do the same for him; for both of them." But no matter how hard she tried, she could feel herself getting weaker each day, which was why it was no surprise when she suddenly fell to the floor one day when helping Ginny with the dishes.

Hermione wasn't fully aware of very much; she could hear Ginny say her name, sounding alarmed as she kneeled down next to her. She could feel Ginny's hand on her wrist, maybe looking for a pulse, before screaming for Harry and Ron. Not even a full ten seconds passed before they were there in front of her, on their knees just like Ginny was and looking quite frightened. Hermione could vaguely feel Ron lifting her gently into his arms, even though it was common knowledge not to move someone when you don't know what's wrong with them. Harry held her face in his hands, talking to her but sounding as if he was underwater. It vaguely occurred to her that Ginny was no longer there; she had probably gone to get Molly or Arthur. And as much as she wanted to talk, to tell them that she was fine and it would all be okay, Hermione found herself unable to speak. And as the darkness finally consumed her, Hermione felt weak because she had let them all down. Weak, because none of this was about her but here she was causing a scene. Her final thought was her berating herself, asking herself how she could do this to them.

And then she was gone.

~0~0~0~0~0

At first, all she could see was a blinding light. Then, she began to hear voices that sounded awfully familiar-Harry? Yes, Harry and Ron. Her head began to pound, and she felt two warm, calloused hands, one in each of her own.

"-she was exhausted. Mum said she'd be fine, but we need to make sure she sleeps enough."

"Of course. I just wish we had been quick enough to see this earlier."

"Me too mate. Blimey, if this had been us, 'Mione would've seen it right away and set about putting us to sleep and making sure we were okay. Only after she lectured us on the dangers of sleep deprivation, of course." They both laughed a quiet laugh, sounding sad but amused all the same.

"I just...she's like my sister y'know? I should've protected her, taken care of her when she needed it-"

"It wasn't just you though mate. I'm her bloody boyfriend, we both should've taken better care of her."

Hermione let out a quiet groan then, catching the attention of the two boys. Their grips on her hands tightened, letting her know that they were there. As she finally opened her eyes, Hermione saw the worried faces of her brother and boyfriend float into view. Both of them had a small, worried smile on their faces, obviously glad that she was finally awake but also feeling extremely guilty. She immediately felt her own guilt flood her tired body; they both had enough to feel guilty about (well, in their own minds at least) and here she was making things worse for them. She felt awful.

"Hey love," Ron said gently, stroking her cheek with his right thumb."How do you feel?"

"Like shit," she groaned, making them both chuckle which made her smile; at least she could still make them laugh. "What happened?"

"Don't worry about all that right now," Harry cooed, "We'll tell you later. What matters right now is that we get you to feeling better. Why didn't you tell us that you were sleep deprived 'Mione?" His face looked sad, like he had somehow failed her; and she guessed that in his mind, he had.

"I didn't want to worry you two," she croaked.

Both boys exchanged a look of understanding before looking back down at her. "You were more concerned with taking care of us, weren't you?" Ron asked.

Briefly, Hermione thought about lying to them to save their feelings; there was no doubt in her mind that they already felt guilty. But there was also no doubt in her mind that they both already knew the answer because they knew her better than anyone else. Damn them. "Yes."

Harry began to stroke her hair in a brotherly fashion as Ron spoke again. "Well, darling, that almost hurt you badly. Mum said it was good that we caught this when we did; a couple more nights and you would have had to be in St. Mungo's for a few days."

"Why?" she asked, her brow furrowed. Yes, sleep deprivation was a health concern, but only that: a concern. Not a large risk.

"Because you would have been so full of pills that they would have had to pump your stomach," Harry nearly whispered. "And you would've been so dehydrated that you would have needed an IV put in."

At the mention of her pills, Hermione stiffened; they knew. How did they know? Almost as if reading her mind, Ron sighed. "When Mum was taking care of you, she told Ginny to go look in your room for anything that you might've used to keep yourself up. Said she had heard of muggles using pills like yours to stay awake, and you were probably using some because no amount of caffeine could keep you that alert for that long."

"I'm sorry," she finally croaked, tears coming to her eyes. She wasn't stupid, she could see past their calm facades; they were scared, worried, angry, hurt. They looked as if they had been worried about losing her, and knowing them, they probably had been. And she hated herself; she hated herself for being too thick to ask for help, and consequently putting them through this when they already had enough to worry about as it was.

"Hey now, none of that," Harry said as he wiped a stray tear away. "We're going to take care of you now. We've got you just like you've had us, both in the past month and in the past seven years."

"That's right," Ron joined in. "You've always taken care of us, and now we're going to take care of you. Which means we're going to make sure you sleep more, eat more, and stop taking those pills."

Hermione simply nodded. It wouldn't be that easy...they still had her nightmares to overcome. But that was her problem, not their's, and she would handle it on her own. They didn't need to deal with all of that. So she looked up into the faces of her two favorite boys, giving them a weak smile and feeling almost guilty for not sharing with them what was to inevitably come.

AN: So hopefully that was okay. It actually wasn't the approach I was originally going to take, but I just started writing and that was what my brain produced. I'm actually thinking about adding more chapters and making it a story about her healing process, but that's only if you guys would be interested in that. If so, please let me know! Also, if you look at my other stories then you'll know that my updating schedule definitely isn't what it used to be; but this has been my hardest year of schooling yet, and it's almost over. That, combined with me eliminating a very time-consuming stressor soon should allow me to update as regularly as I like, so no worries. Thanks for reading, reviewing, favoriting, and following, if you do! Later!