This short story will be about Hermione and George. It takes place after the war, after Fred's death so there may be some angst.

I've never been a great fan of them but I wanted to give them a chance. Hope you won't be bothered too much by some OOC-ness.

Have a good read!

ElieNP

Step by Step

Chapter 1

Her hold around the handle was as tight as she could bear the material to hurt her skin. Despite the pain she wouldn't let go of the damned object. To let go of it'd mean to let go of him. If she didn't open that door, nobody would do it before a long time, a too long time to be certain he'd still be able to return among them normally. If nobody dared enter that room, then he'd stay alone. Lonely and alone, there was no way she'd allow such a thing to last any longer!

She was slightly shaking. She should have walked with him inside the first time, she should have ignored his words, his hurtful moves and followed him even though it'd have been against his will.

They all acknowledged his right to reject them, wouldn't they do the same if the roles were to be swapped? Of course they would, they'd wish to be left alone to mourn their other half.

She didn't suspect her hold could tighten more around the doorknob, but it did.

They'd left him mourn alone for three weeks already, three damned whole weeks during which he'd only accepted to eat a few bits of the loads of food they carried in front of his door. In front of, never inside, he'd not allow anyone to see his face, not even his hand. Their room had become his den, no other presence was wished inside. Enough was enough. If three weeks felt like an eternity to them, how did they feel to him? Alone and lonely. She gritted her teeth, they shouldn't have waited for so long.

She took a deep breath. She had to be brave. She could feel strength running through her veins. Each one of them had tried – and failed – to bring him back. It was her turn, she had to be successful. She would, for his sake.

She determinedly pushed on the handle.

The door slowly slid open. Her heart missed a beat when she saw the state the room was in. The shutters were closed, the curtains drawn, thus increasing the already thick darkness. Dark, smelly and stuffy, it almost made her retch. Truth be told, she couldn't have expected anything else. The window had certainly not been opened for the last three weeks after all. She'd never forget to air a single room of where she'd be living from now on.

She shook those useless thoughts away. It still startled her how her mind would think about such meaningless things at random since the end of the war. An instinct of preservation the medics had told her, a reflex she'd rather do without if you asked her.

She squinted her eyes, not spotting him right away because he was hiding. Alone, lonely and hiding under his covers. She figured out his curled up form under sheets she couldn't distinguish the colours of.

A little child tormented by terrifying nightmares, her heart clenched in her chest. She didn't have to wonder about which monsters had been plaguing him mercilessly. Her nights had been visited by them too. The nights of all the Burrow inhabitants had been and still were from time to time.

She took a step forwards, hesitantly moving further into his personal space. Now that she'd entered his den, she couldn't flee any more. All hope wasn't lost yet, but would if her feet betrayed her, if she walked away from his trembling form. There was nobody left to give it a try. Failure, again and again, until she hadn't been able to run away from this task, this mission, any longer. It was her turn to face the truth of his situation, her turn to face his tormented self.

His sentence was real. He was condemned to move on alone, condemned to be a reminder of who had been lost, of who would, from now on, always be missing.

She took another step in his direction. As much as she wanted to turn back on her heels she wouldn't allow that to happen. She'd been a coward long enough. She had to be strong for him. Nobody could blame him, and he was certainly the one who suffered the most. How could he bear to be... to be himself? She bit her lower lip. She shouldn't be thinking that way. It wasn't his fault, yet she dreaded to draw the covers from his body. She dreaded to see him, to see past him. When her eyes would set on him she knew she'd become a mess again. She'd cry, and it'd not help him at all. But what could she do? They looked exactly the same, they were perfectly alike. Twins from head to toes, twins for Merlin's beard! One gone the other remaining, alone. He was a nightmare himself, a constant reminder of who was missing... She shook her head, she was losing it again, her goal. She had to take him out of here. She had to. She would do so. She'd bring him back among them. He belonged with them, not with a ghost.

She held back a sob.

One after the other they'd all tried to lead him out of that bedroom which had become a prison. It might be pretentious of her to think she'd succeed but she had to be confident. She had to succeed. She had to lead him out, to force, to deceive him even, out of those cursed walls. She wasn't naïve to the point of thinking she'd free him of his demons, not so soon, it was impossible. She'd lived through war, through torture, through the death of people she loved. If she'd been able to overcome these trials, he would too. He only needed time and they'd give him as much as he wished, as long as he allowed them to remain by his side.

He wasn't brooding, he was mourning. She was very well aware of that, and again of his need for time, of his desire to be left in peace, but they couldn't bear to witness his downfall any longer. It was her duty to put an end to his self-imposed loneliness.

"George?" she croaked while slowly pushing the sheets away.

He didn't raise his head. His shoulders tensed. At least he'd heard her, that was a good start. He hadn't totally distanced himself from the real world, not yet.

"George, we miss you."

There was no point in telling him time would weaken his grief, even though it wasn't entirely wrong it wouldn't do any good here. Besides, it was impossible to tell how long it'd take before it happened. There was no point in telling him they were all suffering from the same loss. He knew it. There was no point actually in telling him anything but she nevertheless had to try. She couldn't bear to take part in the silence which had been surrounded him for three weeks. Plus she might say something which would trigger a positive reaction – or negative she didn't really care - all she wanted was for him to react, to prove he was still alive and not an empty and broken shell. He had to stop surviving to start living again.

"We're all waiting for you."

Her voice was barely audible. It was hard to win over the thick silence. She feared she might disturb the eerie atmosphere which was reigning in the room. She was angry with herself. Why was she such a coward? She felt cold, her throat was dry and she wanted to cry. She hated that atmosphere, she craved to break it and yet it remained the strongest. She was miserable in this room, certainly close to the way he was feeling too.

She collapsed on the floor beside his bed. Her hand reached out to clutch his. His anguish and sorrow had suddenly taken over her determination. She had no bravery left in her.

She could stop fighting to stay there with him. They could share their sorrow, they could drown into misery together. It was the easiest solution, the most attracting one.

She forcefully shook her head. That was not a solution at all! The worst of all even! She knelt to be face-to-face with him. Firmly she titled his head up to meet his eyes – she was surprised to they were open, swollen and red too it was inevitable.

"We need you George. We need you to be with us. We don't ask you to stop mourning. We don't ask you to be happy, that'd be stupid. I know you can't, not now. I know you're suffering. I know you think you'll never see the end of this awful pain. But all we want is for you to be with us because you shouldn't suffer alone. You have us. You have to understand you still have us."

Her voice had become shaky and quite frantic, as messy as she felt.

Behind the door which had closed back on her – as if to give them some privacy – her friends had to restrain themselves from going in to protect her from her own feelings. Albeit her demons were threatening to come back they should really not go in, they feared they might screw everything up if they rushed in before George had showed the smallest sign of going out of his lethargy.

George only stared at her blankly. She slapped him before harshly pulling him out of bed. Instead of opposing her some resistance, he followed the moves she imposed him, like a puppet devoid of all will. She hadn't suspected she had such strength in her, yet it wasn't the time to ponder about the wonders anger could do. She slammed his back against the wall, right beside the door she'd definitely make him go through.

"I know you're still there, I know you're conscious, enough to hear me, enough to speak... So speak damn it! We need you! He, more than anyone else, would want you to go out of this room. He'd want you to live, not to survive."

Something changed in his eyes. It was small, a mere piece of dust, but it was there. It'd finally started to appear, this reaction she wished to arouse.

"He is dead." His voice was hoarse. It sounded as if it straightly came from another realm, somewhere far away from them, somewhere they'd have to prevent him from going back to.

His first words in three weeks were astonishingly painful to hear. Shivering, she gently caressed his cheek. "Yes," was all she was able to say. He closed his eyes to her gentle touch. "It's hard," she finally succeeded in pronouncing, "for all of us. It's hard and we won't lie to you, it'll take some time before it stops being that hard. But we... we can't change the past but we-" her voice died in her throat.

Tears were blinding her. It was so difficult to tell him these words, they seemed so cruel. She wished she wasn't the one to say them.

"He is dead," George repeated as hoarsely as the first time. "He is dead, Hermione."

The way her name rolled on his tongue broke her heart. It was a call for help, a S.O.S.. She couldn't hold back her sobs any longer.

"I swear," she said while tears were flooding her face, "I swear I'd have given anything not to let that happen. I'd have done anything I could. I swear... if only I could change the past, I'd do... I'd do anything to protect you, to erase that suffering of yours but I... I... so useless! I couldn't do anything and I still can't do anything... I am... I am so sorry..."

His forehead came to rest against hers. His skin was as cold as ice.

"He knew it'd happen," his voice broke.

It was certainly the most painful thing, to know he had willingly condemned himself to save them. He'd willingly given up his own life to allow them to win.

His sacrifice hadn't been an accident.

"He was perfectly aware of what he was doing that stupid-" he couldn't finish his sentence.

They both slid to the floor. Hermione cradled George's head to her chest, allowing his own tears to soak her shirt.

"We're there," she murmured softly, all anger having left her as quickly as it came. "We're all there for you."

His sobs could be heard from the other side of the door. Their friends sighed in slight relief. George was back among them, and Hermione had successfully calmed down without their help. They'd definitely make it through the mess their life had become. It was a certainty.

They couldn't tell how long they waited before Harry finally approached his mouth to the wooden panel.

"Hermione?" he softly called. "Hermione, is everything all right inside?"

"Can you come in to get him?" she replied as softly. "He's fallen asleep."

Another relieved sigh escaped Harry's lips. He was glad everything seemed to turn in their favour, at last. He slowly opened the door revealing a sleeping George cuddled in Hermione's lap. Would it have happened in other circumstances it'd have been a nice sight to remember.

"I'll take him to Ron's room."

Hermione nodded. Every place would be better than this one where nightmares would continuously plague him. Actually they all would be plagued by horrible nightmares in this room, the most insignificant thing in it was related to him. Hermione carefully got up. Her limbs were stiff to have supported his weight, fortunately Ron was there to keep her from staggering too much.

"I'll take her to our room."

Hermione smiled at her female ginger-haired friend. Ginny's room had progressively become theirs. It still amazed Hermione that the younger girl had never complained about it. She'd not even protested when Hermione's belongings had been moved in. It was true Hermione didn't possess much and had never openly displayed the few things she had, keeping them inside malls or the closet brought in for her use. Even though the older witch called the room theirs she'd never stopped considering it Giny's room. Their sharing it was only temporary. It'd last... actually they didn't know how long it would last. It wasn't bothering either of them really. In such circumstances they were both glad to have somebody to share their room at night. It was reassuring to know somebody was close enough to chase the other's nightmares away. Ginny would often be the one crawling under the older witch's covers to fight her night frights.

Hermione watched Harry and Ron disappear with George before following her friend.

"What do you think?"

A shaky sigh escaped Hermione's lips. "He is a mess, but that's only logical. At least he isn't delusional, he... well to say he accepts isn't right but... let's say he is aware of what happened and why it happened. He blames himself, he didn't say it but I'm certain he does, after all we all do, don't we?"

Ginny nodded. Each one of them believed they could have done something although it was useless to bear such thoughts now. Their tragedy was a reality. Fred was dead and couldn't be brought back from the dead. Magic could do nothing for them either. Fred had given up his life to offer them victory. He'd given them the time they needed to deceive and defeat their enemy. The fool! They were certain they'd have managed without his sacrifice but that was also a useless debate which only poured oil on an already ferocious fire.

Fred was dead, forever. He'd deprived them of his presence for the rest of their life. What a cruel fool he'd dared be.

"He'll make it, won't he?"

"You want to share my bed for tonight?" Hermione asked before answering the quivering question. "Of course he'll make it, but I don't know how long it'll take."

Ginny climbed up in bed with the young woman she considered her sister.

"You'll stay no matter how long it takes, won't you?"

Hermione switched off the lights. "I promise I will. You are my family Ginny, I won't let you down."

Ginny cuddled up closer to Hermione who slightly laughed at that move so similar to the way George'd acted. There was no doubt they were brother and sister. She gently kissed Ginny's forehead, already knowing she'd sneak out of bed as soon as she'd be certain the younger girl was sound asleep.

It didn't take long before Hermione was climbing down the stairs. She couldn't sleep. She hadn't been sleeping well since that day and would spend some time in the kitchen, or in the living-room, almost every night before feeling exhausted enough to go back to bed to get some rest.

Tonight was different though, she felt more nervous to know George was finally out of his den. He wasn't even aware of that yet. He'd been deceived out of his room after all, it'd only be fair if he were furious. They wouldn't have any right to scold him for that.

Hermione collapsed on the first chair she saw. She'd been the main actor of this scheme. She buried her head between her arms, muffling a whine. George was a broken man. He'd lost his other half, his best friend. His brother meant the world to him, without him his life probably seemed dull and meaningless. Wrong, of course, but how could they lead him to accept his life was still worth living it in spite of the tragic absence which would forever burden it?

George had to learn to live a different life, one he'd have never wanted to experience. The missing piece of his heart would never be replaced.

She growled into the sleeves of her pyjamas. Frustration was overwhelming her once more, after it'd be anger, then sorrow. She'd gone through this cycle numerous times since Fred had left them. It was a vicious circle she couldn't find the exit of. She was trapped by her own feelings.

"He's still sleeping. No nightmare until now."

Hermione jumped, she hadn't heard her friend approaching. "That's a relief but how long will it last?"

"I do admit I've cheated a bit with a spell."

She furrowed her brows at Harry while he sat across from her.

"He may be even more furious when he wakes up!" she scolded.

Harry nodded. "I know but he didn't look like he had much sleep, much less a peaceful one in ages. At least now we can hope his body will recover enough not to burden his moral exhaustion, which is strong enough as it is that's it."

Hermione sighed. Of course he was right. Of course to free George of one of the many burdens he carried was a chance they couldn't afford to miss.

"When will it be all over?"

Harry frowned, he wasn't used to hearing Hermione whine. She had to be overly exhausted.

"You should go to get some rest too. You won't be of any help if your eyes shut on their own."

Hermione got up, growling because of the strong frustration which was still running through her veins.

"You're right, with a spell I may be able to..." she sighed. "Who am I kidding? Even with a spell it'll be hard to grab some rest."

"You want me to help you? I could cast the spell for you."

She smiled at her friend. "No thank you, I'll manage. I hope," she added in a breath.

She didn't leave the kitchen before having hugged the young man. She'd been so scared of losing him during the war. If he'd died she'd probably be in the same state as George right now, a wreck. Though it was true George didn't have the monopoly of sorrow he was definitely the one having the most severe difficulties to deal with the aftermath. All Fred's loved ones, friends and acquaintances were touched, at different levels admittedly. His family was the most afflicted, a family to which Harry and Hermione unofficially belonged.

"We'll manage through this," Harry gently murmured. "We'll make it for him."

"Yes, I believe in us... even if it's hard."

"That's the spirit."

They both jumped. Ginny was standing in the threshold. "Now Hermione your bed is missing you."

As often Ginny had finally acknowledged Hermione's absence and had gone to bring her back. She hadn't had a full night of sleep since Fred's death either.

Hermione offered her a sheepish smile. "Sorry I couldn't stay still."

"No problem, but the rings under your eyes tell me you must rest before they eat all your face."

Harry let out a small laugh. Hermione's smile grew a bit bigger. They were all used to having this kind of exchange.

"You coming?"

Hermione walked towards her friend. "Goodnight Harry," she said above her shoulder.

"Goodnight guys," he replied warmly.

The stairs were harder to climb up than when she'd first gone downstairs. That short trip to the kitchen had exhausted her enough to finally make her bed look attractive. She crawled under her covers and Ginny quickly imitated her. They both closed their eyes as soon as their head touched the pillows, thanks to exhaustion and, above all, Hermione's calming spell.

"Get out of here! George! Get out!"

To Be Continued