It wasn't always physical injuries she healed.
"No, not mine- only the plot," the author declared.
Oops. I hate referring to myself in the third person. I don't own it, okay?
S A L V A T I O N
She often wondered why she was the one here, always the one caring and tending to those broken and lost. She heard it in third year, when the Quidditch team was commenting her on her caring nature right after she did a spell on their goggles for better sight. She heard it the next year whenever she helped Harry in the tournament, and especially on fifth year, when she healed those who were victims of the Umbitch's hand. It was always like this. All through out her life, Hermione Granger was always described as caring and good in healing, accommodating and a very good listener. From the moment in first year, until the aftermath of the war, she was always known as the future healer.
It wasn't always physical injuries that she healed.
She was there in Ginny's second year, when the younger girl recounted her lack of friends because of the previous year's events. She sobbed on her shoulder, continually bemoaning her loneliness, and acceptance of the mark that was left in her. She admitted the fact that she came to her as a sister, as her mother and father would overreact at her feelings, and her brothers would mock and won't understand. Even in the age of twelve, Hermione still managed to comfort the poor girl, whispering delicate and reassuring things to her- how she would always be there, and how things would work out.
When Ron blubbered about his insecurities as The Harry Potter's best friend, she was there. Though the then-thirteen year old boy wasn't very good in expressing his emotions, Hermione understood perfectly and proceeded to care while making sure that he wasn't uncomfortable with her.
Of course, being friends with Harry was as taxing, too. That boy was in emotional turmoil in her opinion, and was highly susceptible to mood swings and anger tantrums. He was in constant self-degradation and depression, and Hermione took it to herself to always be there when needed. She was the person the Boy-Who-Lived came to feel like he was simply Harry, came to feel loved as only a sister could.
Not surprisingly, other people came to her. The Weasley twins came to her long before, asking for advice and help in their decision as whether or not to leave Hogwarts for good. She was the one Colin went to in times, and the one that comforted Hannah when her relations died. It was unusual for her, yet she accepted it.
So here she was again, three days after the war, facing the door to the quiet room of the remaining twin.
She always had a soft spot for the two pranksters. They were always fun to be with, and were truly genius. Guile and creativity were things that she valued, and coupled with fun and laughter, Hermione truly looked up to them. It broke her heart when he died, and the day she cried for all those who were lost, she cried most for him-cried over the man that gave laughter, the one that was the pillar of a now broken brother and the man whose death broke the Weasley family.
The war was over, and they were victorious, yet it was still depressing and sad for the Weasley family. While the whole wizarding world was celebrating, they were mourning for a lost relation, and fearing for the loss of another-the loss of George. It was only a while ago, after a quiet lunch, did Mrs. Weasley approach her, asking for her help.
"Hermione," the voice of Mrs. Weasley softly said.
"Yes, Mrs. Weasley?" she asked quietly in reply.
Sighing, the elder woman sat down at the empty dinner chair beside her. "We've all dealt with loss. I have, for many times. I've lost my brothers and I've lost my son. I've accepted that. I just won't accept losing another son." She turned to her, with imploring eyes and said, "I can't get through him. Please, save him."
With a tear breaking out of her cheeks, Molly Weasley stood up and went to the kitchens.
Many seconds later, Hermione Granger would hear the muffled sobs coming from the kitchens and her will would be strengthened.
He will be saved.
And now, standing in front of the door, she knocked softly and opened the door without waiting for an invitation.
What she saw broke her heart all over again.
It was worse than Harry after his nightmares. George was sitting still, in his bed, facing the empty bed before him. His eyes, which usually sparked with mirth and mischief, were sunken, and his skin was almost deathly pale. His body was no longer the energetic and lively one that he used to swagger in, it was thin and corpse-like, as if he hadn't eaten or slept at all. He gave no sign that he recognized her arrival, but she approached nevertheless.
Tentatively, she touched his cheek, softly yet sure.
Turning his neck slowly, he faced her. There was something indefinable in his eyes, something akin to remorse, depression and apprehension, and it made her shiver as she sat down.
Finally, in what seemed like centuries, he broke their contact and faced his bed once more. "I don't know what to do. I…,"he croaked.
Coming out of her daze, she held the man in a tight embrace and comforted him. This act, so innocent and simple, broke him. He sobbed relentlessly in her shoulders, and muttered about life, death and bloody fate- how it was too cruel to him.
"Shh, shh… I'm here, aren't I? It would be alright," she said, trying to sound as convincing as she wants to be.
"I'm not a twin. I don't even have a sibling. But I know what love is, and how losing someone feels," even she was starting to cry at the sight of him. "I've lost a lot, and I kno-know it would never compare to this. He'd nev-never come back, I know this. But I also know that he loves you." Rubbing soothing circles at his back, she continued with shaky breaths, "He di-died for a better life. And now you have to do your part and live it. Live everyday without him, but know that he loves you. He's wa-watching you, I know he is. And while you might not see him, he- he's there. Always there to guide you, urging you on.
"And if that's not enough, I'm here. I'm always here," she continued as he started calming down. He was still in her embrace, and he seemed like he wasn't planning on letting go soon.
"Thank you," a muffled voice said. "Thank you for this," he said.
"Stay with me?"
Later, when breakfast is ready, he'd finally come out, with her. Mrs. Weasley would smile and hug her son, and the rest would grin and breathe in surprise. They're healing, once again.
Grinning, Forge- Fred looked down at his twin and the witch in his arms. Finally.
Reviews are very much appreciated.
Thanks! especially to Arsenic Allure, my first reviewer that actually criticized me.