Grief was normal. Grief was inevitable. Everyone felt the heavy burden of Fred's absence, but no one wore it quite so thickly as George. They may as well have killed him to, Hermione thought to herself darkly as she observed the slow way he moved and the way that his eyes never seemed to lift from the floor or whatever task he was doing.

It wasn't like it had been long. Only a month had passed but people were trying to move on. The need to call George together with his twin's name was involuntary and the way Mrs. Weasley still set a plate for her lost son was tear-jerking. Hermione always tried to keep her composure. It wouldn't do well for everyone for everyone in the household to be numb. She tried to keep the normalcy alive and tried to keep everyone functional.

"I don't know how you do it," Ron admitted one night. They lay side by side in his twin bed, allowed to share a room due to the fact that they were technically of age. The argument to allow them to stay in the same room was a short lived one due to the fact that it was evident on Mrs. Weasley's face that she just didn't have the fight in her. Hermione almost simply would have shared the room with Ginny, but Ginny was fairly insistent on having Harry in her room, and that would also mean that Ron would have to share with George, and no one wanted to intrude on that.

"Do what?" Hermione asked drowsily. Ginny had become quite apt in making a sleeping drought. It wasn't extremely powerful, but it was enough to calm their minds and allow them to sleep dream-free.

"Stay so put together," Ron admitted. He had himself propped up on his elbow as he looked down at his almost-sleeping girlfriend. It almost seemed tactless for them to have started a relationship so soon after George's death, but it brought them comfort.

"What's the alternative?" Hermione asked. She opened her eyes a little more because she could hear the urgency in Ron's tone, like he needed to talk in that specific moment.

"Be broken like the rest of us."

He sounded so emotional, so very unlike-Ron. Hermione cupped his face in her hand tenderly for a moment and offered a small smile. "None of you are broken. You're just grieving."

"And you're not?"

Was that the whole intention of this conversation? Hermione felt her irritation rise up for a moment before she had a moment to calm herself. She tried to not be argumentative with Ron, and she put extra effort into it lately, but everything he said almost seemed like an accusation, to which she took great offense. Hermione put her heart and soul into trying to make his family feel like a family again, yet he seemed to still want to make jibes at Hermione. She supposed it was because he felt the closest with her and therefore felt like she was the easiest to attack, but when Hermione spent all of her days trying to seem put-together for everyone else, by the end of the day she felt vulnerable and his words simply hurt.

"Of course I'm grieving!" she snapped. She sat fully up. Even though she had only lain down for a few moments, the hair at the back of her head was already frizzier than usual. "Just because I hold it together for everyone else – just because I'm trying my best to make sure –" she couldn't seem to find the right words to say to him to make him understand. Instead, she burst into tears, something that she hadn't done since Fred's funeral. Ron seemed legitimately taken aback by her actions. Hermione kept trying to explain herself, but it came out more like blubbering. For a moment, she had thought that Ron was going to appreciate her, to express himself to her, but of course not. How could Ron? He wasn't empathetic, he couldn't put himself in her shoes, all he could do was be... Ron. She knew that she was being harsh on him in her mind because she was upset but in the moment it was all that she could think about.

"I need some fresh air," Hermione stated abruptly. She stood up and flattened the hair at the back of her hair out of habit.

"Do you want me to come?" he asked.

"No." She tried to sound casual, relaxed, but instead she sounded snappy. "I just want to be alone."

"Look, Hermione, I'm sorry, I just..." Ron trailed off as Hermione left the room. She had expected Ron to follow her, to continue the argument. Instead she actually found herself outside, alone. That in itself made her more upset, that he just seemed like he didn't have the energy to bicker with her anymore. She knew that he cared, but it was like he could only fight so many demons at a time, and right now Hermione didn't take priority. She didn't expect herself to, not because she thought she was unimportant to him, but because he had just lost his brother in a grievous war. Even though Hermione wasn't a Weasley, she too felt the empty hole that Fred's death created. It was larger than she could have imagined and it felt like a black hole that sucked all meaning out of life. She tried to not cave and let it consume her, but sometimes it did, and where did she have to go? She couldn't go to anyone in the house because their loss was greater than hers. Her family wouldn't properly understand. She had created this life so involved with these people that she had never expected that there would be a time where she wished that there was someone else that was on the outside that she could go to before.

Hermione's shoulders shook as she cried. She rested her elbows on her knees as she sat on the step and looked down at her entwined fingers as her tears fell. She didn't think it would be easy after the battle, not after so many losses, but she didn't think it would be this hard.

The door opened behind her and Hermione quickly wiped her eyes with her sleeves. The summer nights had become warm and inviting, and even the breeze was comfortable. She looked behind her with puffy eyes to see George there. They both seemed surprised to see one another.

"Oh. I didn't mean to intrude." George's voice sounded hollow. He turned to go back inside.

"No, please. Stay." Hermione insisted. She scooted over on her spot to make room for him. To her surprise, he accepted her offer.