Hermione Granger was depressed.
It seemed to fit the way her life had been going. At the age of 17, Hermione was forced to fight in a war. Well, maybe forced wasn't the right word. Hermione gladly stood by her best friend Harry Potter in his quest to defeat Lord Voldemort, but even without her ties to Harry she would have been fighting. Hermione Granger was a muggleborn witch who would have been wiped out by Voldemort's pureblood supremacy had he taken control, so she went to war.
Once the final battle had been fought and Harry claimed the victor, Hermione expected her life to become simpler, but then … Ron.
She had kissed Ron in the heat of the moment; it was do or die, now or never, and she loved him. Hermione had been in love with Ron for almost as long as she had known him, and to finally share that kiss had been nothing short of magical. Ron didn't seem to feel the same way, or at least, he couldn't come to terms with it.
In the days following the final battle, Ron couldn't seem to focus on anything other than the fact that his brother was dead. Fred gave his life at the Battle of Hogwarts and it seemed to have taken Ron some time to realize he was gone. Never again would he hear Fred call him Ickle-Ronniekins, or see Fred and George standing together in the corner laughing at a practical joke soon to be fulfilled.
Hermione tried to be there for him, tried to talk to him about it and help him cope, but he seemed to be withdrawing more and more as the days progressed. Harry had noticed the same trend and suggested that she give him some time. And so, Hermione waited, and Hermione got depressed.
Everyone seemed to have someone in whom to find comfort, except for her. Harry and Ginny were rarely seen out of each other's company and had even taken to sneaking into each other's rooms at night in The Burrow. The other Weasleys gravitated towards each other in their moment on need, coming together to support each other. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had reached out to Hermione, as well, making sure she was always comfortable, but she felt like more of a burden than anything; it was one thing for them to offer her a place to stay during their difficult time, it was another to take attention away from their hurting family for her sake.
Hermione missed her parents. She had planned to search them out immediately after the end of the war; however, shortly after Kingsley learned that she had erased their memories and sent them away to keep them safe, he offered to use the might of the Ministry to find them, return their memories, and bring them home to England. As grateful as she was, Hermione felt as though she might be happier searching for her parents; at least then she would have something to take her mind off of her seemingly constant pain.
She didn't want to seem needy; she was the only person currently residing at The Burrow who had not lost family to Voldemort. She didn't feel she had the right to be depressed; quite the contrary, she felt that she should be celebrating that her family had made it through certain danger unscathed, but she couldn't help it. Every time she closed her eyes she saw Tonks and Lupin, little Colin Creevey, Snape, and Fred. Every face and every memory taunted her. Every moment she spent alone added to the overwhelming weight of her grief.
Hermione had decided to go for a walk; some fresh air might clear her mind. Then she ran into the one Weasley who had avoided everyone at all costs: George. Poor George seemed just as he did every day ... lost. While everyone else grieved Fred together, George could barely look anyone in the eye, never mind hold a conversation; he didn't seem to know how to function without the other half of his heart.
"Hi, George." Hermione didn't expect a response, but she always made sure to say hello; when George was ready to talk, she would be willing to listen. Apparently, George was ready.
"Have they found your parents yet?" he said in a voice that sounded more like a croak due to misuse.
"Not yet, but Kingsley told me they're hopeful," Hermione responded, still slightly stunned that George had spoken at all. A wave of gratitude toward George overcame Hermione as she realized that he, the one who had lost the most of all the Weasleys, had been the first to enquire about her well being in weeks. Hermione didn't hold it against any of the family, they had done more than enough for her, but she still felt overwhelmed to see that he cared.
"You can't stay here forever, you know," George drawled, his voice beginning to even out. Hermione frowned; seeing the apprehension in her eyes George quickly made it clear that he was by no means tossing her out.
"You're drowing. I can see it, it was how I was when … when it first happened. Just lost and … alone." George's eyes seemed to slip out of focus as he relived the loss of his other half and his new status as a solo act.
When he spoke again, he seemed to find a new determination. "This place," George said, slowly surveying the kitchen of the Burrow with a wary eye. "It's not right anymore. It used to be warm, cozy. Now it just feels like a funeral home."
George suddenly turned towards her, smiling sadly. "You're not the same either, Hermione. You smile sometimes, but it never looks real."
Hermione was taken aback by George's keen observations. The Burrow had certainly lost some of its magic in the aftermath of the war, she assumed it had taken someone who did nothing but hide and think to finally put it into words and make it real. As for her smile, well, there wasn't much to smile about these days. They'd won a war, and still the casualties were too hard to call anyone a winner.
"I don't want to kick you out, don't get me wrong. You're family, you and Harry both. That's why I want you to leave, I care about you too much to sit back and watch this place sap the life out of you the way it has the rest of us."
Hermione sat silently attempting to process what George had just said. In a way, he was right. Everyone within the Burrow spent their days either sitting and talking about the war or whispering quietly to each other, judging who seemed to be the most lost. George was the easy choice, but Hermione knew more and more the whispers were heading her way. She, like George, seemed to be the only inhabitant of the Burrow without a confidant.
Mr. and Mrs. Weasley comforted each other in the loss of their son, while Fleur and Bill, who had remained with the family since the battle, were often seen sitting together outside, finding comfort in the silence and each other. Ron, Percy, and Charlie might not have had a significant other, but they had their parents as constant companions. Without her own parents, Hermione suddenly felt completely alone in a full house.
Hermione needed an outlet. George seemed to have spent a good deal of his time holed up in his room working on his planned reopening of Weasleys' Wizards Wheezes, and it was time Hermione took her own step forward into the newly wide-open future. She loved Ron, and would attempt to make their relationship work as soon as he was ready, but it was time to put her own mental well being first. For once in her life, Hermione was going to be selfish.
Looking up, Hermione realized that in addition to his own store, George seemed to have spent some time thinking about her sanity. The spark his eyes used to hold so often when in Fred's company seemed to be making a slow return as he said one simple word.
"Hogwarts."
"Hogwarts?" Hermione asked, unsure what the school had to do with her decision to move forward.
"They need help there, you know," George replied. "Parts of the castle are completely destroyed. I know McGonagall wants the castle ready to reopen by September 1st but the Ministry isn't convinced it can happen, not enough volunteers."
George's eyes bore into Hermione's as she began to realize what he was suggesting. She loved Hogwarts more than any other place in the world, and to be able to help in its reconstruction would be perfect to take her mind off of everything. She supposed she could even talk McGonagall into letting her stay in the castle in the meantime. Not all of the dorms were affected by the battle, and she'd be a far more effective volunteer if she was in the castle 24/7.
But could she really leave? Could she say goodbye to the Burrow and its inhabitants, her family, in order to move on and attempt to heal?
Was she willing to run away to save her own life?
