Disclaimer: If they were mine, Sirius would still be alive!
Chapter 2 – The Many Woes of Molly Weasley
It was dark. Hermione listened for a sound, some clue as to where she might be. She could hear murmuring, but could not make out the words or the voices. Why was it so dark?
Ah. Eyes closed. Right. She should have figured that out quicker. But her head felt too fuzzy to think logically. Or at all.
She opened her eyes. As the light hit them the buzzing in the back of her head forced through to the front of her mind. Trying to push it aside she looked around her. It seemed to be some kind of tent. With lots and lots of beds. With lots and lots of people. A girl with red and white robes, and short honey-blonde hair rushed past. Hermione vaguely recognised her as a Hufflepuff, a couple of years older then her. The girl was holding a bottle of potion.
Hermione's eyes followed her until they came to rest on the person in the bed next to her. She let out an involuntary gasp as she took in the sight. The boy was covered in violent cuts and burns. Half his face was what looked like one massive burn and his right arm was bent in the most unnatural position.
"Finally awake then I see."
Hermione turned her head to the right, towards the calm voice that she now realised she'd been longing to hear.
She stared in silence at the tight smile he was giving her. He looked relatively unharmed. Scratched and bruised, with bags under his raw, reddened eyes, but still, he was standing.
She tried to smile back at him, but found that she couldn't quite remember how. Instead, she said his name.
"Harry."
"Hermione."
His smile widened a fraction and then he was holding her so tightly she felt she might break.
He let go and stepped back just as quickly as he'd hugged her.
"Sorry Hermione. I forgot… I mean… I know it might hurt for a while."
She looked at him quizzically before she remembered. A dark-haired woman's cruel smirk. The words repeating over and over. Crucio. Crucio. Crucio. Crucio. Crucio.
Why had she stopped?
Ah yes. Ginny. Ginny had hexed her from behind. The full body-bind. And something else… Hermione couldn't remember what else Ginny had said. All she remembered was Bellatrix's screams.
But if Ginny was there, where was she now?
"Harry?"
"Yes Hermione." He sounded worried, apprehensive, nervous. As if he was scared of what she would ask.
"Where's… where's Ginny?"
His features relaxed slightly.
"I think she's with her mother. They're helping in another tent. Charlie said she's fine. Looks better than almost anyone here apparently."
Hermione noted the relief in his voice.
She tried to move then, only to discover that her muscles had most definitely decided to go on strike.
"Ssshhh." Harry muttered.
Why was he shushing her? Had she said something?
"Stop trying to move. You need to rest. Madam… I mean, Poppy said you'll be fine but you need at least a week solid without moving."
A week! But she needed to see the others. Now!
"Harry. Please. I need. I need." What did she need? Damn, if only her head would stop buzzing.
Harry understood though. "I'll go tell them that you're awake, shall I?"
Hermione tried to nod her head. But she refused to ask who 'them' were. Because she'd have to acknowledge who wasn't there. And she couldn't hear it. Not yet.
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As Harry left the tent he kept his head facing towards the ground. He wouldn't look at the area around him. They still hadn't managed to collect all of the bodies. He hadn't looked once since he'd arrived back to the medical tents. He didn't want to see anyone he knew laying out there.
As he entered the second tent, he glanced at the bed directly to his right. Fleur was sat in a chair next to it, her head resting on her Husband's chest, tears glinting in her eyes.
He paused and spoke quietly to her.
"Any change?"
Fleur looked at him blankly for a moment. Then she turned her face away from him to stare at Bill's.
Harry waited a moment, looking at the eldest Weasley, before he continued his journey to the back of the tent.
Then he saw her.
Long red hair pulled back into a loose bun, her delicate hand holding a wet cloth against her brother's forehead.
He didn't move for a moment, watching her.
"George. George come on. You've got to wake up now. Come on George. Stop being a lazy arse and wake up!"
She looked away from the twin. Her eyes held a determined look as she blinked back the tears. And then she saw him.
Time froze as he moved nervously towards her. She rose slowly from her chair, stepped around the bed and ran.
She flung herself into his arms and Harry held on to her as tightly as he could.
Then the tears came.
She was so quiet he didn't even realise she was crying until he felt the uncomfortable damp patch on his shoulder.
"Ginny." He murmured.
She sniffed and pulled back slightly, looking into his eyes.
The last time they'd been this close all he could think of was how much he wanted to kiss her. Now all he could think was how could he take the pain from her beautiful brown eyes?
"How's…?" He began.
"Fine." She replied. "But he doesn't know yet. When he wakes. I can't tell him. Harry how do you tell someone that half of them is… is…"
"I don't know." He replied, cutting her off before she could say the word.
"And then I have to tell him about Bill, and dad and… Ron."
Harry let go of her then. He didn't want to think about that. She shouldn't make him remember.
"Hermione?"
"She's in the other tent." He replied quietly. "She's awake. Maybe, when you have a moment, could you…?"
"Of course." Ginny replied, as she grabbed her wand from the end of George's bed.
"Mum! Will you be okay for a moment?"
Molly Weasley looked up from the Auror she was treating. She looked briefly at Harry, a small smile briefly graced her face before her gaze fell upon the boy in the bed behind them.
"He's not awake yet?"
"No. You know George…" Ginny tried to think of a joke, something to ease the tension that had been in the tent for so many hours. But nothing would come to her.
Molly nodded slightly, the pained look now back on her face. She understood.
"Tell Hermione I'll be in to see her later. When… "
"Okay."
Molly Weasley looked on as her daughter walked out of the tent with the saviour of the wizarding world. And as her gaze fell on the patient at the front of the tent, whose wife was crying once again, she tried to be thankful for those of her children that had survived. But when you've lost a husband and two sons, it takes time before the word thankful can be used.
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