Chapter 1
Mrs. Weasley tossed and turned in her sleep, finally sitting abruptly up with a scream. Her eyes were wide with fear and she clutched her hand over her heart. She was shaking from head to foot and was breathing quickly. She looked over at her husband's side of the bed and was relieved to see it was empty. He would be worried at her continued nightmares, when she had reassured him that they had ended long ago. She didn't mean to lie to him, but he had much bigger things to worry about than her silly nightmares. From past experience she knew it was no use to try to go back to sleep, so she grabbed her dressing gown off the hook next to the bed, and decided it was a good time to do chores. The sun was barely beginning to rise through one of the various windows in the house, a sight that she had become used to over the various months. She wrapped her dressing gown tighter around her as she traveled down the various stairs of the Burrow. She stopped just outside Ginny's bedroom, and could not resist the urge to peer in. As quietly as she could, she opened the door a crack, and peered in. At first her heart stopped at the sight of Ginny on her bed, her body barely moving. She eased her way into the room before realizing that her feet were moving, and was suddenly standing over Ginny, holding her breath. She saw Ginny's chest move ever so slightly, and she released the breath. She knew that this fear was unreasonable, but she was on high alert now, and probably forever. She leaned down to brush some hair out of Ginny's face. 'Ginny would be so embarrassed if she woke up and saw me doing this.' Mrs. Weasley thought, gazing down at her only daughter. How her little girl had grown from her first year at Hogwarts, to the woman in front of her. Yes, she couldn't deny that Ginny was a woman now, no matter how much she wanted to pretend this fact was not true. Even Arthur had to admit that Ginny was far more than a little girl. She had run a rebellion in Hogwarts last year, and had fought in a battle much too mature for her. Mrs. Weasley smiled down at her youngest child, who looked so peaceful sleeping. This was what they had fought for after all; the ability for their children to never have to worry about their lives ever again; the ability for their children to grow up in a world so different from their own. She leaned down to kiss Ginny on the forehead, another display of affection that Ginny would be ashamed to be put upon. She turned to leave, after all, she didn't want to wake her child.
"Mrs. Weasley?" a voice called from the other side of the room. Mrs. Weasley jumped, she had almost forgotten about the other occupant of the room. Hermione's eyes were watching her, her arms under her head, propping her head just enough to look at Mrs. Weasley. She was watching with curiosity. Mrs. Weasley approached cautiously, as Hermione was in a weakened state. To her chagrin, Hermione attempted to sit up, winching as her muscles moved. Mrs. Weasley attempted to push her back down, but Hermione waved her away, motioning to the end of her bed. She sat, secretly evaluating Hermione's injuries. The girl's face was unusually thin and gray; she had cuts all along her face and arms, and who knows what else. Despite this, she smiled weakly at Mrs. Weasley, reaching a hand out to take hers. "Mrs. Weasley, thank you so much for letting me stay here. I know that this isn't probably the first thing you wanted to do, after the war, but thank you for taking me in. I know Harry feels the same way." She said, blushing a little.
"What do you mean, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked, concerned that Hermione's head had hit something during the Battle from the way she was talking. "Of course we would take you in." Hermione looked slightly guilty at this.
"It's just that, it's your family time to mourn. I don't feel its right to intrude." She half- whispered, looking suddenly very shy. Mrs. Weasley now squeezed Hermione's hand tightly. It was true, of course that the Weasley family was in mourning, but she could not imagine Hermione or Harry not being there. To her, the two of them were adopted children; she loved them as much as the children she had borne herself. She reached up to brush a curl behind Hermione's ear, a gesture of tenderness not unlike that of a mother and daughter. Hermione leaned into the touch, appreciating the gesture.
"Hermione, don't worry about 'disrupting family mourning.' You and Harry are family; you should know that by now." Hermione shrugged, and mumbled something that sounded like "of course Harry is, but me?" Mrs. Weasley wrapped an arm around Hermione, and pulled her in for a hug. Hermione's body was tense, before relaxing into her embrace. Mrs. Weasley soothingly ran a hand against Hermione's back before pulling away. She put her hands on Hermione's cheeks, and looked into her eyes. "You are what Ron needs right now. You take him out of what surely would be a dark pit of despair, and remind him that there's good in this world. It's you." She gulped, "that he needs. His mother isn't enough anymore." She admitted, not just to Hermione but to herself as well. Hermione shook her head at this, horrified, but Mrs. Weasley smiled kindly at her. "It's alright dear. He's not a little boy anymore. When he was small I could just wrap my arms around him and all was right in the world again; but I'm afraid the world won't be right ever again. And he needs you." She told Hermione; squeezing her hand, and was unsurprised when Hermione squeezed back, tears beginning in her eyes.
"No, Mrs. Weasley; a child always needs their parents. No matter how old or mature they say they are. We always need our parents." She said. They sat in silence, absorbing each others' words, before Hermione let out a large yawn, and then covered her mouth.
"It's alright; you have been through a lot this past year. I don't mind if you want to fall asleep again." Hermione looked grateful, but fearful as she slinked back on the bed. "What's wrong?" was Hermione in pain? She patted Hermione's arm, worried.
"Oh, nothing, Mrs. Weasley, don't worry." Hermione tried to placate, turning away from Mrs. Weasley. This did not trick her in the least; she was a mother first and foremost. She turned Hermione back towards her.
"Are you alright dear?" She searched her face for pain, but found none, only a look of fear that she knew too well. "The nightmares are still frequent?" She asked. Hermione nodded her head almost imperceptibly.
"Will they never end? I cannot remember a time when I didn't have them. It feels like this will be my life forever."
"I won't lie to you, as it won't do you any good." Hermione was watching her. "The nightmares may never go away; but they will become less and less over time. You may not even notice, but one day you will sleep the whole night without a single nightmare. It will happen dear, it will."
"Really?" Hermione asked hopefully, her eyes aglow. Mrs. Weasley saw Hermione like she had just seen Ginny; as a little girl who had suddenly become a woman. It was although she hadn't seen Hermione like this before. She saw the little girl of twelve, hopeful and excited about the wizarding world, behind the bruises and hurt on the woman in front of her. She hoped that Hermione never lost that light that made her different from the others. She hoped that this experience didn't make her fear her powers, or the world, but made her embrace all the good. She squeezed Hermione's hand, and bent down to kiss her forehead like she had for Ginny.
"Really." She promised. Hermione smiled, before slowly closing her eyes, and drifting off to what looked like peaceful sleep, for now. stared at the two girls just a moment longer, drinking in their forms before slinking out the room. She resumed her descent to the kitchen, where she brewed herself a cup of tea, before sitting down at the table and staring out the window. The sun was now in the middle of the window, telling her that she had spent a great deal of time in the girls' room. She didn't regret the time, because she would rather sit with the children than sit alone with her thoughts. When she was left alone with her thoughts, they tortured her. She thought of her children safe upstairs. Ron was in his old room, sharing with Harry. He was probably sprawled across the bed, taking it all up as he always did. His hair would be a mess in the morning, and his mouth would be wide open with snores. Harry would be asleep peacefully for the first time in years, she suspected. His glasses might be smashed against his face, as she had found him several times before. It was almost like he forgot he wore glasses and needed reminding. Percy was once again in their house, for the first time in almost three years. She couldn't explain how it felt to have him home again. She worried for him every day when he wasn't talking to them, even through her anger at the way he treated Arthur, he was always her son, and she always worried about him. Charlie was not far from Percy; he had decided to stay with them before heading back to Romania. She wouldn't deny that having him home filled a part of her. She needn't worry about him while he was under their roof. Bill and Fleur stayed as well, despite her protests that they were newly- weds who needed alone time. Bill had only engulfed her at this, as a way to silence her. It had worked. And then there was George. Locked away in his room. He came down to eat, but there was a hollow in his eyes, a light that they were not sure would ever return. –she had to restrain herself from adding Fred after George's name.
After all, they were Fred and George, a match set. One was never without the other. Except for now, when one would always be without the other.
Another shiver came over her, but no dressing gown could keep this cold away. Her nightmare flashed before her eyes, only it was worse than her worst fear. She remembered when the boggart had shown her the worst fears she had hidden inside of her. Ron, dead. Ginny, dead. Percy, dead. Arthur, dead. And the twins, dead. The twins, dead together. That had been her worse fear. Never in her nightmares had she imagined the twins split apart, her worse fears were losing both of them. How wrong she had been. Indeed, losing one and not the other was the worst nightmare that she never imagined living. No, she did not wish George dead, she wished for Fred back. The last moment he had with her, she shoved him aside! And for what?! For Percy, who was alive and well sleeping at this very moment? And her Fred, her Freddie, lifeless not even hours later? What kind of mother was she? Where she pushed aside one of her own for another son? Fred's last moments were not filled knowing his mother's love, but knowing that she would push him aside for another.
She would never forgive herself.
Oh yes, she would put on a smile for George, for Percy, for Arthur. But she would hold this regret for the rest of her days. She would hold this regret for her Fred. The sun was now risen all the way in the window, and she heard the sound of footsteps in the rooms above. She wiped her face, and pasted on a smile. Another day, another smile.
A/N: I am actually really proud of this. It has been in my head for a long time. I don't think she ever imagined one without the other. I loved looking into her head. If you liked this, or it struck a chord with you, please leave a review.