A scream pierced the air, and Ginny sat bolt upright in her bed. Gaining her bearings, she quickly grabbed her wand and rushed towards the person making the horrible sound.

The young wizard was writhing in his bed, his eyes shut tight as more terrified shouts left his lips. Murmuring the incantations to several soothing spells, a Nightmare repellant charm, and a Restful Sleep enchantment, Ginny waited until the boy had calmed before pulling the drapes around his bed shut again.

Checking her watch, she noted that the dreams had begun early tonight: it was barely one in the morning. It meant a long night ahead for Ginny, and no sleep until the dawn. Sighing, she padded softly out of the wizard's bedroom and leaned against the wall in the hallway. She wouldn't have much time until the next round, and it wasn't worth it to try and fall back asleep.

Sure enough, the sound of screaming soon drew Ginny into another room further down the hall, this time to a witch's room. Ginny repeated the same spells by rote; they had become ingrained in her memory and she could probably perform them while asleep herself. As if you are ever asleep for long, her inner grouch muttered. She brushed the cranky voice aside and reminded herself that she was caring for these people because she had chosen to.

After gently tucking the blankets around the young witch, Ginny made her way to the last occupied bedroom on the hall and stood outside the door, wand ready. She had barely stood there for two heartbeats before the young man inside began to shout and plead for his mum, right on cue. Entering swiftly and calming the boy, Ginny pressed a soft kiss to his forehead before letting herself out.

Weary, she made her way down to the kitchen, preparing her customary cup of middle-of-the-night tea during her brief reprieve from caregiving. Sitting at the long wooden table, Ginny reflected on the happier times she had spent here. Snorting softly to herself, she knew she'd be committed to St. Mungo's if anyone ever heard her referring to the years of Voldemort being on the loose as "happier times". But in a strange way, they had been happier years. Things had been tense and uncertain, yes; but there had at least been the hope and promise of a brighter future. Now, there was nothing but bleakness, at least for her.

No. 12 Grimmauld Place had been filled to the brim with wounded war veterans. Of course, those with serious or life-threatening injuries were located in St. Mungo's, but the vast majority of the Order simply weren't scarred "enough" to be considered a high priority at the magical hospital. And then there were the handful of repentant Death Eaters who had been refused care at St. Mungo's and taken in largely due to the over-blown sympathies of Molly Weasley and Hermione Granger.

During the day, Ginny helped nurse the patients of Grimmauld Place back to health. She was no Healer, but she often performed simple tasks to help comfort the various witches and wizards, ranging from cleaning spells to reading aloud. The work was more than enough to run her into the ground, but at night, she had other, more important (at least in her mind) work to do.

The three "patients" on her floor were not actually considered invalids by the rest of the Order and the Healers in the house. No, they were all, Ginny included, living on the "healthy and mostly happy" floor, boarding at Grimmauld Place until they could move on with their lives in the aftermath of the war. Ginny was the only one besides her "patients" who even knew that everything was not as it should be on this floor.

The two boys and one girl had attempted to keep the truth of their various conditions a secret from Ginny, but those illusions had been shattered after only a few nights living with the group. Realizing that there was a serious problem, Ginny had begged and pleaded with them to tell someone, anyone. But they had remained obstinate in their convictions that no one else could know, and so, Ginny found herself playing nursemaid at night when she really should have been sleeping.

A small chime on her watch began to play, and Ginny resignedly set down her cup of tea and headed back upstairs. Her patients had taught her the numerous complicated spells to cast on their hallway every night so that their screams would not disturb the rest of the house. Ginny's chimes were the only way she could leave the hall in the evening and still be alerted if one of them experienced another nightmare.

As she trudged up the stairs, Ginny wondered again whether she would ever find a suitable text on the proper treatment of recurring nightmares. Her spells usually gave her patients a short reprieve, but within the hour they were terrified and yelling again. As a whole they had refused the continued use of sleeping potions, a move which Ginny silently agreed with, but resented nonetheless. She wondered whether she would ever feel well-rested again in her life, or if this was to be her future now?

Working her way through the rooms and soothing the scared sleepers, Ginny tried—and failed—to tamp down the bitterness she felt bubbling up. She knew these moods were always better in the daylight, but at night, the anger roiled around her system until she wanted nothing more than to press the soft pillows against those unsuspecting mouths until-

Cool it, Ginevra, she chastised herself. These people are soldiers. Taking care of them now is the least you can do. She knew it was true and yet, she often felt like her life as she knew it had ended the night of the final battle—and not in a positive way. Sighing and sitting on the floor of the hallway, Ginny resolved to have a conversation with them in the morning to see if there wasn't something they could do to get her some more help. She was losing her sanity.

"No."

The tone was final, and Ginny clenched her fists at her sides. Her chat with her patients was not going as she envisioned this morning. To start with, they were all completely aghast at her suggestion that they seek professional help. And to follow up, they were now acting like she was the enemy.

"No one can know, Ginny; that's why we have you put the spells up," one of the boys said, speaking to her as though she were five years old. Ginny bristled and her temper snapped. She leapt to her feet and began to pace furiously.

"Look, you lot! I'm not getting any sleep, I'm angry and resentful most of the time, and quite honestly, I have contemplated every imaginable way in which to kill you without leaving a trace!"

She faced her patients and was greeted with three equally stunned stares. They put their heads close together and began to murmur softly so that Ginny couldn't hear. Throwing her arms in the air in defeat, Ginny spoke again, this time trying to control her anger a bit.

"I care about you all, deeply, I do," she interrupted them. "But it's not fair to me, what I'm doing! I can't go on like this, and neither should any of you." Ginny looked at each one of them in turn, addressing them as she made eye contact.

"Harry, you've all seen and done more things than anyone had a right to expect of you," she said beseechingly to the man she used to think she would marry one day. "And Hermione, there's no shame in asking for help when you need it." The dull brown eyes looked away from Ginny's guiltily. Ginny turned to the last person in the row. "Ron...no one is going to think you're weak if you just admit that everything's not well and good." Taking a deep breath, Ginny gazed at them all again. "I say this because I love you all, and it's killing me to see you like this. Just promise me you'll think about it."

The trio nodded, and Ginny left them to the discussion she knew they would have as soon as she exited the room.

A scream pierced the air, and Ginny sat bolt upright in her bed. Gathering her wand and slippers mechanically, Ginny stepped out of her room and her secret nighttime activities began anew.

A/N: Well, this came out pretty depressing. All I can say is: I had a dream last night that Harry was having screaming-until-you-wake-up nightmares post-war, and so when I saw this "middle of the night" challenge, I couldn't resist. I'm not JKRowling, which should be pretty obvious.