A/N: I own nothing. Please read and review! This is set a couple months after the last chapter (not the epilogue) of Two Is Better Than One. Harry, Sandy, Ron, and Hermione decide to return to Hogwarts for a final year. Harry and Sandy are still dealing with the emotional scars of the war. Reviews are much appreciated.

Chapter 1

"No! No, no, no!"

Sandy Potter thrashed about in her bed, obviously sleeping poorly. Hermione, who was sleeping in the next bed over, awoke with a start upon hearing her best mate's cry. She jumped out of bed and was at Sandy's side in a split second. "Sandy? Sandy, wake up," she said soothingly, grabbing a washcloth off the nightstand and wiping the sweat from her brow. "Shh, shh. It's all okay."

Sandy's green eyes suddenly flew open. She leaned over the side of the bed and, grabbing a bucket sitting on the floor, promptly vomited. Breathing heavily and still looking nauseous, she said to Hermione, "I'm sorry for waking you."

"Don't apologize," Hermione told her firmly, still wiping sweat from Sandy's forehead. "Why don't you try to sleep some more?"

Sandy nodded, and without another word, she turned over in bed and closed her eyes. After watching her best mate worriedly for a moment, Hermione then turned her gaze to the nightstand. It was equipped with anything she might need to help Sandy during the night. A bucket for vomit, a washcloth for sweat, a fresh pair of nightclothes, and a glass of water.

Footsteps echoed in the hallway. She grabbed her wand. "Lumos," Hermione murmured, and the tip of her wand lit up. She shuffled into the hallway, and, seeing no one, descended the stairs. She was not surprised to find Harry sitting on the couch in the Weasleys' sitting room. "Couldn't sleep?" she asked.

He was equally unsurprised by her appearance, and he shook his head in response to her question. "Nightmares," he replied succinctly. She sat on the couch next to him, and he wrapped an arm around her tightly, more to comfort himself than her. "Sandy's still having them too." It was not a question.

"Yes," she nodded, frowning and leaning her head against his shoulder. "I think she's having a much worse time than you, though. I mean, you scream and get sick, too, but she… she can't seem to take care of herself."

"What d'you mean?" Harry asked sharply, turning his piercing green gaze on her.

Hermione sucked in a quick breath. This was the first time she had mentioned the degree of his sister's condition to him; she had been hoping to breach the subject with him when he was feeling better or that perhaps Sandy would get better with the passing of time. At this point, it didn't seem likely that either set of circumstances would come into play, and Harry had a right to know. "The first night we were here… she had a nightmare. And she woke up, I was still asleep because she didn't scream, and she got sick. And she just… she just left it there until I woke up in the morning. Like she didn't care that she was covered in her own vomit. She would never do that before, at Hogwarts, when she would get sick in the middle of the night. She'd always Vanish it immediately, as soon as she could. Haven't you noticed how distant and closed off she's been?"

"Yeah," he said tersely. "We've both had a hard time…"

He hadn't expected this. Neither of them had. They had expected that, if they managed to defeat Voldemort, life would simple and happy from then on. But it hadn't been that way. He felt guilty for being alive, when so many other had died. Fred… Lupin… Tonks… with a wrench he thought of their orphaned son, Teddy. He felt guilty that they had died because of him and his sister. He hated being called a hero, treated like some sort of demigod. He hated people expecting him to forget, forget all the other people who died on his way to victory.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

AAAAAAA

"Well, we'd best be going. We've got meet the prefects in the prefect compartment." With that, Harry and Hermione excused themselves from the compartment. Much to his surprise, Harry had been made Head Boy instead of Ron, who had only congratulated his best mate. What Harry did not know was that Ron had owled Professor McGonagall during the summer, requesting not to be made Head Boy because he needed to be able to spend more time with Sandy.

When the door had slid shut, Ron and Sandy were left alone in the compartment. "Feels odd, doesn't it?" he observed, casting his eyes all around the train. "To be back on the Hogwarts Express? To be going back to Hogwarts?" He draped an arm over her shoulders. "It feels odd… in a good way. Like everything is going back to normal."

"Yeah," Sandy said noncommittally, her gaze fixed on the scenery flying by through the window.

Ron let out a loud sigh. Ever since she and Harry had defeated Voldemort, Sandy had become withdrawn and distant. He knew she was having nightmares every night. He heard her shrieking in the middle of the night, every night, without fail, at the Burrow over the summer. He was worried about what would happen when she had nightmares at school, considering that Hermione would be in the Head dormitory. Hermione had tried to give up her post as Head Girl, but Sandy wouldn't hear of it. "Sandy, love," he said, stroking her cheek with his hand. "Is there anything you want to talk about? You seem upset."

"No," she answered, still not looking at him. "No, I'm fine."

The answer was always 'no'.

AAAAAAAA

"Reducto!"

Nothing happened. Determined, Sandy pointed her wand at what was once Hermione's four poster bed. "Incendio!"

Still, nothing.

She was alone in the seventh year Gryffindor girls' dormitory. Every one else was at welcome feast, but she had snuck up to Gryffindor tower for this. "Wingardium Leviosa!"

Nothing.

"Damn it!" she shrieked, throwing her wand across the room. A moment later, she felt guilty and retrieved it, putting it back into the pocket of her robes. It was no fault of the wand that she had not been able to perform even the most simple of spells since the night she and Harry defeated Voldemort. It was not its fault that she was weak. What would the world say when they found out that Sandy Potter had lost her magical powers?

"Sandy?" called a distinctly male voice. The call was followed by footsteps coming up the stairs to the girls' dormitory, a cry of surprise, and a thump.

Appearing at the top of the slide, Sandy said, "I've told you that you can't come up here."

Harry looked at her dourly from his spot on the ground of the common room. "Yeah, I remember that now," he remarked. "Where'd you go? One second you were walking into the Great Hall in between Ron and me. The next, you were nowhere to be found."

"I felt like being alone," she said, sliding down the slide and landing next to her twin. "I didn't want everyone staring at me."

"Yeah, thanks for leaving me to handle that by myself," he said. He cocked his head at his sister. "How are you? Hermione was telling me that you haven't been dealing with your nightmares very well at all."

"That's true," Sandy said, now helping her twin to his feet. They both took seats on the squishy armchairs next to the fireplace. "I just can't… this guilt is too much."

He nodded, looking into the fire. Turning to her, he asked, "Have you been able to…?"

"Do magic? No," she said, biting her lip. Harry was the only who knew about her current inability to do magic, as he had been there when she had tried in vain to Summon her drink while at the abandoned Privet Drive.

"I'm sure it's-" he started, but she cut him off.

"Whatever you were about to say, just don't. Don't tell me rubbish to try and make me feel better, Harry. I expect more from you," she said in a clipped voice. She then stormed up to the girls' dormitory.

Ron, who had just entered the common room with Hermione, said, "Well?"

"I'm sorry, Ron," Harry said, looking weary and shaking his head. "I can't get much out of her. She's willing to talk to me, but if I say something even slightly upsetting, she dashes off. It's like walking on eggshells."

Ron pressed his lips together and took the seat that Sandy had vacated, trying to push his feelings of jealousy aside. He knew that Harry and Sandy were close, being twins and given all that they had gone through together. But the fact that she was willing to at least talk to Harry while she would refuse to talk to Ron about anything of importance at all was killing him on the inside. Did she not trust him? Was he not worthy of her confidence anymore?

"Ron?" Hermione said, derailing his train of thought as she sat herself on Harry's lap. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," he lied. "I'm fine. I'm just fine."

AAAAAA

"Please! No! Please, don't!"

Sandy awoke in a feverish haze, her vision blurred. The other seventh year girls were crowded around her, looking concerned. Lavender was gently wiping the sweat from her forehead, but she jumped out of the way as Sandy leaned over the side of her four-poster and barfed.

"Should we get Madame Pomfrey?" Lavender asked anxiously, Vanishing the sick and returning to wiping her brow.

"Hermione mentioned to me that Sandy had been having nightmares for months," said Parvati. "I don't think Madame Pomfrey will be able to do much."

Frowning, Lavender said, "Go get Ron."

Several minutes later, Parvati returned, fighting to keep a smile off her face. "Where's Ron?" Lavender snapped at him.

"Oh, he's coming," she replied.

Seconds later, Ron appeared in the doorway, panting and red in the face. "Had to… run all the way up that bloody slide," he panted. "What's wrong with her?"

"See for yourself," Parvati said grimly, gesturing at Sandy's fretful form in bed. "She woke up screaming bloody murder. I'm surprised you didn't hear her."

Sandy was deathly pale and still sweating profusely. She was tossing and turning, and she seemed to be muttering to herself in her sleep. Ron approached cautiously, sitting on the edge of her bed. He took her hand and murmured, "Sandy? It's me. Shhh, it's all going to be okay, love." Parvati and Lavender beat hasty retreats to their own beds, drawing the curtains.

Her green eyes opened slightly. "Ron?" she croaked.

"I'm here, love," he murmured, brushing her sweaty black hair out of her face.

"Stay," she pleaded, showing more emotion to him in that moment than she had in months.

"All right," he conceded. He crawled into bed next to her and drew the curtains of her four-poster. Casting a quick Silencio Charm, he then snuggled up next to her. She curled into him, her left hand grasping his shirt desperately. He observed the diamond engagement ring on her left ring finger for a moment, before he said, "I love you, Sandy."

"I love you too, Ron," she murmured, snuggling further into his chest.

"Get some sleep, love."

AAAAA

Ron awoke early the next morning and returned to the boys' dormitory before anybody noticed his absence. When he met Sandy in the common room for breakfast, he said, "Did you sleep well after?"

"After what?" she asked, her eyebrows knitting together in mock confusion.

He gaped at her. "You don't remember?"

"Remember what, Ronald?" she asked impatiently.

"Nothing. Just nothing."

"I don't want to go back." Sandy sat on her bed, shaking her head back and forth impetuously.

"Sandy, come on," Ron wheedled, taking her hands in his. "Hermione wants to go back. Harry wants to go back. I want to go back. Why don't you?"

Sandy swallowed back the tears that were threatening to pour forth from her emerald green eyes. She did not want to go back to the school that no longer felt like a home. She did not want to think about Fred dying every time she sat in the Great Hall. She did not want to remember Lupin and Tonks' cold dead bodies on the tables every time she ate. She did not want to relive the battle every time she took a step. "I just… I don't."

"Sandy, please…" he pleaded. "Just talk to me."

"No one from our year will be there anyway," she said, trying to come up with a reason not to return.

"Actually, Professor McGonagall, she's Headmistress now, decided to invite everyone from our year back for an extra year. She said that last year was an abysmal excuse for a final year at Hogwarts, and we should be able to have one that we can actually enjoy."

Enjoy, Sandy thought bitterly. Right. Like she would be able to do that.

"Please," Ron begged her again, kneeling on the floor in front of her now, "it won't be the same without you."

She sighed heavily. "Fine," she acquiesced. "I'll go."