Hermione opened her eyes, feeling so sore she could barely move. She took a look around her, not knowing at all where she'd woken up to. The room was dark, and a quick glance at the window on her left told her it was the middle of the night, maybe a bit later than that. Running over the last day's happenings in her mind, she rapidly recognized the place she lay in, paralysed with pain and fatigue. A smile came to her lips when she understood she was in the girl's dormitory, in her own bed. Just as she mentally commented on that, she realized the bed's softness under her back, the comfort of having pillows piled up under her head, the reassuring freshness of a pair of clean pyjamas against her skin. She sat up with a groan, and looked up to see all beds in the room were taken by her fellow Gryffindors. Everyone was trying to recover from that exhausting day they had been through. How long had it been since Hermione last felt the air so calm? Months, years probably. Since she first got on that train on October first, to enter the world of Magic. Today, she realized, Lord Voldemort was no more, and everyone was relieved. Looking back at the window, Hermione wondered if she had slept through the entire day since the morning's battle, or if it was the following night. Either way, she felt like she could have slept a bit more, and considered one second dropping back into the softness of her bed. But a thought came to her. Harry. Ron. She needed to see them. See how they had been since the last time they'd spoken- that time being just before they all went for some sleep, early in the day, feeling exhaustion was stronger then than anything else.

Hermione sat up straight, and got out of her bed, trying not to wake anyone else with her muffled shrieks. Her entire body was aching, from the muscles in her back, arms and legs to her swollen knees and cut hands. Grabbing her wand on her nightstand, she whispered a soft "Lumos" and looked around for something to wear. It felt weird not having her enormous trunk sit at the end of her bed... A neatly folded pile of clothes lay on a chair next to her bed, and Hermione silently thanked whoever had put them there. She got rid of her pajamas and put on the jeans, T-shirt and jacket she had found, along with a pair of clean shoes. She tried for a little while to make her hair look presentable, but soon gave up. Her wild curls seemed to want to express their independence to any form of brush Hermione presented them. She couldn't really blame them for it. Everyone was now free of all menace, and she herself would be glad to soon be able to walk the streets like she was just an ordinary witch- which she was indeed. She had first thought of heading directly to the opposite dormitory and check on her friends, but before she had time to reach the staircase her stomach informed her otherwise. Hermione realized she was starving. She decided waking up the boys could wait until she had eaten something. Pushing back the thoughts of the dead lying across the floor of the Great Hall, which was something she really did not want to think about right now, she went down the stairs into the empty Gryffindor common room, and out the portrait hole.

The castle seemed to be sleeping as deeply as its students, and the only noise that broke its heavy silence was the soft tapping of Hermione's feet against the floor. Looking around, she could see the injures Hogwarts had suffered. Pieces of walls lay around, along with shattered armors and fallen portraits. The wind caressed the scene, entering from a few broken windows, and whirling around the silent corridors. The remaining walls were covered in black streaks, and Hermione shivered while trying to stop herself from wondering how many of them were a result of a killing-curse having been shot at one of her friends.

She didn't meet a single soul on her way to the kitchens, as even the castle ghosts seemed to be taking a night off. This is why, as she approached the hidden door, the sound of cutlery alerted her. She pushed the door opened slightly, and saw someone sitting at one of the large wooden table the school elves used to prepare food. He was in the act of pouring himself another glass of Firewhisky, and didn't notice Hermione had entered the room. As she got closer, she recognized the thick red hair and freckled-necked man who was drowning his sorrows in a glass. She put a gentle hand on his shoulder, and waited for him to take her presence into account.

'Hi' she said, as Charlie Weasley slowly turned his face towards her. 'I'm sorry... I didn't mean to come bother you in any way... I just woke up, and thought I could head to the kitchens unnoticed... I...' She didn't have time to finish her last sentence, as the second Weasley boy slowly placed a finger on top of her lips, shutting them close. Hermione the realized he looked a lot less drunk than what she would have thought. His eyes were a bit red, but their intense hazel looked up at the young witch with nothing but understanding and kindness. She stopped trying to explain her presence, and found herself taking a seat next to Charlie. He hadn't stopped looking at her, with some sort of nostalgic air in his stare. Finally, he tried on a timid, yet not very convincing smile.

'Hi back...' And then, taking up his glass and taking a sip at the alcohol, 'Feel better after two days of non-stop sleeping?'

Hermione was surprised at this last remark. 'Did I really sleep that long?' Adding with a small giggle. 'Well I must have been even more tired than I thought I was...' 'Still am', she added as an afterthought. 'How about you?' She finished, sounding concerned about the young man. He had fallen in the contemplation of the amber liquor in his glass. He sighed heavily and turned back to her.

'I couldn't tell, really. I think nothing's had time to sink in yet. I still can't picture... Fred being gone...' He had finished is sentence in a murmur. He took his glass to his mouth and emptied it in a gulp. He coughed as the Firewhiskey made its way down his throat, and bent down his head, his ginger hair falling around his face. Hermione timidly placed her hand on his forearm, giving it a gentle squeeze.

'Me neither.' She said, her voice a lot less confident than she had wanted it to be. 'I keep thinking this is all a very bad dream and I'll wake up soon, and he'll be there... Along with all the others...' A few tears ran down her face as she finished her words, and she realized she really wanted to cry, scream out everything. But she held back, thinking Charlie really didn't need shuch a display right now. She would keep it for later. She quickly brushed away the tears and looked back at Charlie, who was now looking back. She cleared her throat and tried to change the subject. She really couldn't allow herself to think about all the negative sides of the previous days.

'I'm going to fix myself something to eat. Do you want anything?' She had wanted her voice to sound sympathetic and light, but didn't really know if it came out that way. He seemed to think for a moment as she was getting up, staring absently at the wall behind her, and finally answered in a distant voice, making it look like he was completely lost in his thoughts. 'I thing I would like that...' He took the half-emptied bottle of Firewhiskey in his hand, and after having stared at it for a few seconds, he added: 'Can I get you something to drink?'

Hermione was already getting some bread and cheese out of a cupboard, not feeling like doing anything more complex than a sandwich. 'Sure, why not.' Charlie conjured a glass from a nearby cupboard, and poured some liquor into it. He placed the glass on the table and waited for the girl to come back, holding a plate of sandwiches in her hand.

'Thanks.' They both said at the same time. They smiled at each other faintly at this. Charlie picked up the piece of bread filled with cheese that was made for him from the plate, looking dreamily at it, while Hermione took a small sip of the drink, letting it heat the inside of her throat and stomach. They started eating in silence, each realizing how good a piece of bread could taste, after the times they had been through. Seeing out of the corner of her eye the way the Weasley boy dug into his meal, Hermione thought he probably hadn't eaten anymore than her since the battle. She ate with as little manners as he did, feeling like she hadn't eaten anything in years, and drained everything with the end of her Firewhiskey, on which she choked a little. Charlie turned his face to her, having swallowed his last bite.

'Hermione, I don't know how you did it, but that was probably the best cheese sandwich I ever had.' He felt a little lighter now he had put something inside his stomach, and was starting to smile at her a little. She smiled back, and took the bottle away from him as he was about to refill his glass.

'Well try not throwing it up in that case.'

He let out a small laugh at her saying this, and nodded in agreement.

'I think it would be time for me to get back to bed.' He said still grinning a bit.

'So will I', was her answer. In silent agreement, they both lifted themselves from the heavy wooden bench, and started walking to the corridor. As they passed the Great Hall, Hermione stiffened however, thinking of the people inside. Charlie probably noticed that, because he got closer to her then and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. She welcomed the attention of one of the people she considered as her brothers. They walked in silence until they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. She let them in without asking for a password, and they found themselves in the common room, as empty as it had been when Hermione had seen it on her way to the kitchens. Charlie, who still held her by the shoulder, suddenly turned her around so she would face hil, in the middle of the room. He looked her in the eye, holding both shoulders now.

'Hermione,' He started in a soft voice. 'I know it's hard to think that people have died during this war...' He paused briefly, fighting off some of his own thoughts. 'It's not something joyful to lose a member of your family in such a way... But nonetheless, we mustn't forget the rest of what happened. Mainly, the fact that Harry, along with you and Ron, freed us from something that would surely have killed even more people if it hadn't been stopped. We can't forget why they died.' With that last sentence, his hands hardened a bit on the young lady's shoulders. 'Fred, or Remus, or anyone else, would want us to forget that... At least I don't think they would.' Hermione could see how much it was costing him to say those words. 'And on top of all that, I need you to promise me something...' She was looking up at him, her eyes starting to tear up at the words she felt she needed to hear, but didn't want to hear at the same time. She nodded once, showing she wanted to hear the rest. 'Please... never blame yourself, or anything you did, for what happened.'

At that last sentence, Hermione felt her knees weaken, her eyes fill entirely with tears, and she started crying openly. If it hadn't been for Charlie holding her, she would have sank to the floor this instant. She felt his arms wrap around her, protecting her from the outside world, letting her feelings submerge her. He leaded her softly to one of the red and gold sofas and sat next to her, holding her tight. Through her sobs, Hermione tried to speak, but the words died in her mouth. She was half conscious of the fact that he was stroking her hair, trying to calm her down. She could feel all the emotions finally rush to her all at once. Guilt. Anger. Pain, a lot of it. The faces danced before her eyes, all those loving faces of the people she would never see again. She had no idea how long they had sat this way, Hermione crying into Charlie's robes, while he held her against him. Finally, she felt the tears ease a bit, the ball in her throat start to decrease, and the shaking in her hands and shoulders go away. Slowly, very slowly, she looked up at the Weasley boy, her face wet and swollen. He smiled at her, a kind, loving smile, and she realized he had cried as well.

'I'm so sorry' she blurted. 'I just... thought we would all make it...' Her voice cracked up again. 'Young Teddy will never get to see his parents...'

She felt Charlie's hand brushing hair out of her face, and looked up again. 'He will know they were heroes, and died to give him a better future. He'll be proud of them, I am sure.' He put a hesitant, but true, smile on his face, and Hermione wondered how he could go through all this with such calm. 'We have to carry on living, for the ones we've lost. And make sure they aren't forgotten.' She nodded, as she felt her words were the complete truth.

'It won't be easy though...' She said, shifting on the sofa. 'No one said it would' was Charlie's answer. He hugged Hermione like a brother hugs a sister, and then looked at her once more, clearing her face of the remaining tears.

'I think you should get back to bed, now. You need to rest. You think you can make it to your dorm?'

She just nodded, incapable of adding anything. She got up like a ghost, and headed for the stairs. Just before she started climbing, she turned back to the red-haired man.

'You should do the same, you know...' He smiled at her. 'I will, don't worry.'

She set her foot on the first step, but brought it down again. Turning back, she called:

'And... Charlie?'

'Hhhm?'

'Thank you...'

He took his head from the back of the sofa, where he was already dozing off, and grinned.

'Anytime.'