AN: So... hey there. After lurking on this site for waaay too long, I've finally decided to give my own story a shot. It's going to focus mainly on Hermione, and she'll be paired with someone later I guess, but I don't know who yet. If you have any suggestions, feel free to tell me!
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine. Sadly.
She had demons.
Well, they all did. It was what was to be expected, during the aftermath of a war.
Some were more noticeable than others. Neville, as confident as he had become, had a nervous twitch, which seemed to be out of his control. Ginny bit her fingernails to the nail bed. George would wake up in the middle of the night screaming for his brother.
Hermione knew all this because she saw. Nothing escaped her nowadays, and she had noted and catalogued everyone's demons in her mind. Neville would twitch whenever someone mentioned the time period of the war in 1998. Ginny constantly gnawed at her fingers, a habit which had Molly Weasley scolding her at the dinner table.
One Christmas Eve night when Hermione was staying at the Burrow with the Weasleys, she had gotten up under cover of darkness to get a glass of water. Padding down a hallway, she had heard shouting coming from George's room. Flashbacks of the war clouded her mind, and wielding her wand (which she kept on her at all times, and on the sink when she was showering - call her paranoid, but she'd rather be safe than sorry) she burst into his room expecting the worst.
George had been tangled hopelessly in the sheets, his forehead shiny with sweat and his eyes screwed shut tightly. He was thrashing wildly as no human should be able to, and screaming, (which would stay with her forever) screaming for his other half, his twin.
Hermione had stood there, in the middle of the room, shell-shocked, unable to function. Finally Molly had rushed into the room, ignoring Hermione completely, and collapsed onto the bed, holding George's head tightly against her and coaxing him out of sleep. George, wake up. Georgie please, wake up! You're dreaming!
He had gasped, loud and throaty, and fallen into his mother's arms, sobbing and crying. Hermione had never seen a grown man completely break down like George had, over a dream. She panicked and fled the room, taking the stairs two at a time, tucking her wand into her back pocket and seeking the safety of the small kitchen.
It was there that Hermione sat, nursing a glass of water almost an hour later, when Mrs Weasley came into the room, looking at Hermione apologetically.
"I'm so sorry, Hermione, dear. You shouldn't have had to see that." Mrs Weasley's arm snaked around Hermione's shoulders. Hermione didn't like people touching her anymore, but Molly Weasley was one person she could tolerate. "Fred was... Fred was everything to him. He dreams every night. I purposely put you and Harry in the spare room at the far end of the house so you wouldn't have to hear it. I'm sorry."
Hermione had forced a smile onto her face and assured Molly that it was okay. She finished her glass and made her way back to her and Harry's room. To some it may have been a strange arrangement, but Harry was her best friend and Ron was away. After the war, Ron had thrown himself into Quidditch, training in all of his spare moments, and he had landed the Keeper position in his favourite team, the Chudley Cannons, and after acquiring him they had admittedly improved by a long shot, and were now touring England. She missed him dearly, but only as his friend. They had both agreed that that was all they would be, a mutual agreement.
When Hermione had gotten back to her room, she glanced at Harry (who was out like a light, Hermione knew that it would take a small explosion to wake him - she envied his ability to sleep so soundly), and made her way to her half of the room. She grabbed her duvet off of her bed and cocooned it around her body, and sat quietly in the corner of the room, making herself as small as possible, pressing herself against the cool wall. It was then, and then only, that she let herself out. Silent sobs had wracked her body for over an hour until she wiped her eyes, now red and blotchy, and collapsed back into her bed, closing her emotions into herself. As the sun began to peek over the horizon, Hermione finally closed her eyes and exhaustion took over her body, allowing her with the peace of a few hours' sleep.
Yes, they all had demons. But she was the one that was expected to keep her head, to be calm in a situation of chaos. They relied on her for a sense of normalcy. She couldn't let her demons show.
She couldn't.