The next few nights, after the chaos and madness of the Great Hall, the Burrow seemed relatively quiet.

The candles and lanterns flickered feebly – no-one dared use the lights in case it was too bright for someone else's eyes.

The Burrow held home to nine people at that time. Charlie had come in from Romania, and was helping his mother plan Fred's funeral. They'd already decided that they'd prolong it as long as possible, so Mrs. Weasley could repair Hogwarts, so George could re-open their shop, so they could attend the funerals of other deceased fighters. Bill and Fleur remained to watch over the house, and make sure it wasn't burnt to the ground while Molly busied herself with things other than Fred. Of course, without Fred, the house was almost 100% less likely to burn down. George remained in his room the entire time, mourning the loss of half his being and soul. Percy and Mr. Weasley kept running in and out of the house at odd times, both caught up in Ministry work, trying to restore peace to the frazzled wizarding world. As far as everyone could tell, they were doing their job well.

Harry, Hermione, Ron and Ginny wandered around the grounds, feeding chickens, de-gnoming and trying to stay out of everyone else's way as much as humanely possible.

Occasionally, the quartet – no longer a trio – accompanied Mrs. Weasley to Hogwarts and helped with 'Operation Repair Hogwarts'.

Luna Lovegood remained at Hogwarts, teaching people about grief, with Neville close by her side. Ron commented once that the pair made a dynamic duo, and possibly a couple. The others had scoffed; Luna wouldn't be attracted to Neville – he was a surprisingly normal man, and she was a very abnormal, unusual girl – and it was unfeasible.

Hermione often dreaded visiting Hogwarts – there was something about the community, family feeling that made her realise that she no longer had a family. She'd sent them away, she'd destroyed their lives and made them remove themselves from everything familiar to them – even if it was for their own safety.

But tonight was different from all those other nights. For starters, both Percy and Mr. Weasley were present at the table, which was an occasion so rare that it should be commemorated somehow.

George had come down for dinner, commemorating their presence with his own.

Harry had finally decided that he wasn't going to hurt anyone by being there with them, and Ginny was beaming, her eyes flashing to his so frequently that their gazes hardly left each other.

Ron was seated beside Hermione, head obviously full of trying to keep Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes alive. George had inadvertently given Ron the task of keeping his joke shop up and running – telling Percy and his father that they had their hands full enough without his business getting in the way. He'd then proceeded to tell Mrs. Weasley that he'd pay more attention to what he was doing once Fred's funeral had taken place. But he sat in a stupor, not doing anything at all.

Mrs. Weasley wasn't seated yet, but bustling around, caught up in the task of feeding her ever-growing army of children and mouths to feed.

Bill and Fleur were muttering to each other, murmuring sweet nonsense to each other in such a way that Mr. Weasley kept shooting them stern looks.

Though Percy was, for the first time in almost four years, eating with his family, he still looked miserable.

Hermione couldn't help but think that if Fred were there, Percy would be receiving jibe after jibe about running off and leaving their family, that the table would be united as one, laughing in unison, apart from the tight-lipped disapproval from Mrs. Weasley.

Charlie was trying to initiate a conversation with Mr. Weasley about dragons, but Mr. Weasley kept going off topic and talking about things that made Mrs. Weasley tremble and spill water from shaking pots.

Once she was seated, and all plates were filled, a silenced hush fell over the table. There was little chatter and even less movement as the whole table fed themselves.

Ginny sat a little straighter in her seat, 'Mum, I was talking to Luna today,' she began, attracting everyone's attention, 'and she said that Dennis Creevey said that Lavender Brown is okay.' Her eyes flicked to Ron's, and Ron's expression darkened. 'I just remember you asking about her the other day…' she trailed off a little, shaking her head when her mother put down her knife and fork.

Bill spoke up, 'But she's still changed, isn't she?' His fingers went, probably unconsciously, to the scar Fenrir Greyback gave him.

'I think so,' Ginny answered. 'But, being Luna, she wouldn't ask something like that. She only told me because Dennis happened to be walking past, and she thought it was strange that he'd told her that earlier.'

'Be quiet, Ginny.' It was Percy who spoke, and even Hermione heard the impatience in his voice.

Ginny rolled her eyes and waved her hand dismissively, telling Percy, without words, that she could talk whenever she wanted to.

But Percy didn't. He remained quiet. He kept eating his dinner in silence, though no-one else was eating. They were watching him with disbelieving eyes. He didn't look like he wanted to say anything.

One by one, they started to eat again. The dinner soon began to disappear, bit by bit, portion by portion. Only the Mrs. Weasley's were left; Molly and Fleur. Slower again, they finished their meal.

Hermione made sure her knife and fork were parallel, in line with each other, before lifting her wand and waving it, the plates all rising and stacking themselves and floating to the sink. Molly whisked the cutlery away and made the dishes start to wash and dry themselves with two seemingly simple waves of her wand.

Fleur moved her wand in a different way and the table was suddenly spotless, a new tablecloth, glasses joining the plates and cutlery being washed by invisible hands.

Ron tugged Hermione and Harry into the lounge room, with Ginny tagging along behind. He didn't seem to mind, and didn't even try to talk.

Mr. Weasley entered the room and sat in his designated arm chair, closing his eyes. He sighed and shifted into a more comfortable position. He opened one eye and looked at them looking at him, and then opened the other. 'You kids looked scared silly,' he said, shaking his head. 'You're like a different bunch of kids – not the rowdy, happy bunch you used to be.'

'Life's been hard, Dad,' Ginny said going over and giving her father a quick hug. She pulled away and he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

'I know, flower, but it shouldn't have been.' He shook his head and reclosed his eyes. 'Talk. Do something louder than just looking at me.'

Ginny skipped back over to them. 'I remember when Ron was five,' she started, clearly the conversation-starter of the family, 'and I was four. The twins were down at the village with Mum, buying groceries, I think. I don't really remember where everyone was, but I know Dad was in his shed fiddling with some Muggle invention – like he always was. And is, for any matter.' She took a breath and looked at Ron, her eyes sparkling mischievously, in precisely the way Fred's had. 'Ron made a dance routine and tried to teach it to me. I remember it went something like this…' Ginny started hopping and twirling around the room, beaming brighter every time she looked at Ron's face, which was growing more scarlet with each turn.

'Did not.' Ron muttered, more to Hermione than anyone else. He sidled closer to her, but she stepped up to Ginny.

'If I know anything about Ron,' Hermione said, taking one of Ginny's hands, 'It would have been more like this,' And they danced, improvising ridiculous moves that actually made Ron blush. They shimmied in time with one another and burst out laughing.

'I think I remember less of the dance than I originally thought,' Ginny mused, 'because it wouldn't be Ron without some shimmies.' She dropped Hermione's hand and twirled right into an empty chair, long hair trailing her in a bright flame, seeming to flicker like real fire.

Harry turned to Ron, a smile finally breaking his pallid face. 'Or some leaps. He likes to leap.' He grinned.

Ron struck out at Harry. 'Shut up, mate.' He tried to look darkly, but he was failing. Ginny crossed her legs, Indian style, on the chair, sweeping her hair over her shoulder with one hand. 'Or I'll tell them what you muttered in your sleep in fifth year.'

Hermione sat on the arm of the chair Harry was seated in. 'That's not right, Ronald.' She scolded, putting one hand on Harry's shoulder. 'They were really rough times.'

Mr. Weasley, who until then, had been forgotten, opened his eyes and stared at them openly. He didn't say anything, but the disapproval in his eyes was crystal clear.

Ron observed their suddenly stormy faces with a bemused expression. 'I was talking about Cho Chang?'

Ginny's face was the only one that didn't fall into a smile. 'Shut up, Ronald,' she snapped. Her voice wasn't overtly icy, but her eyes pierced through Ron like glass.

Hermione watched Ginny's innocent face become taken over by green jealousy. Hermione remembered how many times she had reassured Ginny that Harry's thing with Cho was only a thing – there was no real chemistry between them.

She remembered how hard Ginny had tried to be normal and strong in front of Harry – and how easy it became when Ginny realised that what she and Harry had was natural, with or without a relationship.

'Sorry,' Ron muttered. 'But I thought I was funny.'

Ginny mimicked him, wagging her hair around and putting on a high-pitched voice.

Ron gave her a very rude gesture, sending Mr. Weasley onto his feet. 'Ron!' He exclaimed, sounding a lot more awake than he looked. 'Apologize to your sister.'

Hermione watched Ron's shoulders slump, thinking about how nice it would be to have siblings, even if they fought as incessantly as Ron and Ginny.

'She started it,' Ron whined, slumping forward like a five-year-old.

'How old do you think you are, Ronald?' Mr. Weasley asked, hands on his hips. He was nowhere near as impressive as Mrs. Weasley in the same stance. None of the 'Dad Power' her own father possessed.

Ron sighed and sat up. 'I'm sorry you're a jerk, Ginny.'

Ginny sat up straighter, growing haughty. Hermione could hear Ginny's retaliation before she said it. 'That's nice, coming from you.'

Hermione stood up. 'Harry, have you seen my jumper anywhere?' She asked loudly, drawing attention to her and away from the bickering pair. She smiled. She and Ron used to be the bickering pair. She wondered how much they'd fight now.

Harry looked up at her, looking very much as though he'd come out of a deep trail of thought – one that meant he'd been paying no attention to the Weasley's. 'What? Oh, er, in Ron's room?' He guessed. He pushed his glasses up his nose and turned to Ron. He looked like he was about to say something, but he didn't.

Ginny stood up. 'It's in mine, Hermione. I'll come with you.' She gave Harry a meaningful look that no-one in the room seemed to be able to comprehend – not even Harry, and left.

Hermione trailed behind her, following loosely. The Burrow had changed so much since the first time she'd been there. It was no longer a quaint family home, but a large, empty place for people to sleep.

It was true that the house and it's owners were a lot older and a lot less reliant on their home, but it felt less homely. The clock on the wall had lost on hand, gained another. It had lost the hand with Fred on it, but gained a hand with Fleur. There was a faint outline of a forming hand, as though someone was about to be welcomed into Molly's family, someone else she could keep an eyes on and mother.

Hermione was quite surprised that Harry wasn't already on that clock. She knew Molly considered him a son – seeing as he had no blood-related family left, she'd given him hers. Having Molly as a mother and Ron as a brother always seemed pretty good to Hermione. But she supposed that now he and Ginny were involved – in ways Molly probably didn't know about, admittedly – that could possibly be his own hand.

Ginny leant over the railing of the stairs. She was halfway up to her room. 'Are you coming, or what?'

Hermione glanced up the rickety stairs. She wondered what would happen if an enlargement charm was placed on the house. 'I'm coming. Give me time, my brain's a little slow today,' In the past few days, so much had been crammed into her head – images and lives she'd never forget – that even the simplest of things took more concentration than normal. She saw it in the others as well, the clouds hanging in front of their eyes and their far-off gazes.

It was like shell-shock. Hermione really, for once, couldn't find another word for it. It wasn't exactly shell-shock, but it was the same symptoms. And with all the explosions and things, who's to know if there weren't Muggle shells during the Battle of Hogwarts?

Hermione shook her head, clearing away those clouds and thoughts, and climbed the stairs faster. She reached Ginny's oak door and opened it.

Ginny sat on her bed, facing the window. Her red hair fell over her back like a waterfall over rocks. She didn't turn at the sound of Hermione's entrance, though she obviously knew Hermione was there.

Hermione cleared her throat and envied Ginny's hair. It was as straight as a ruler, and as thin as thin could get. It looked sharp – it looked strong. It was the fire in Ginny.

Where as, all Hermione had on her head was this frizzy, curly, thick mess that was, according to Ron, merely an extension of her brain. Hermione shook her head again, clearing her thoughts, bringing herself back to standing in Ginny's doorway.

'I didn't think my jumper was in here,' she said, looking around and finding Ginny's room spotless. She'd been practising household charms, Hermione secretly thought.

'Accio Jumper.' Ginny whispered, raising her wand. Hermione caught the jumper on it's way through. She'd noticed Ginny's voice, soft and weak, like she was about to cry.

Hermione pulled the jumper over her head and crawled onto the bed with Ginny.

'Are you sure he likes me, Hermione?' She whispered, looking up at Hermione with eyes so huge that Hermione had to lean back. Ginny was this close from breaking down – something she rarely ever did.

'Likes you? Ginny, were you listening to anything he said last year when he broke up with you? Didn't he say that Voldemort hurt the people he loved?' Hermione stroked Ginny's envying hair and sighed.

Ginny gave a small sigh, too, one of exasperation. 'He has a funny way of showing it. He's barely spoken a word to me since he got here.' Hermione remembered a similar conversation a few years ago – one that had ended up with Michael Corner and Dean Thomas trailing her like bugs to light.

'I know he loves you, you've just got to show him that you do, too.' Hermione put her arm around the girl who was the sister she'd never had. 'I know you're the strong one. The first girl in a family full of boys and what-not, but Harry… he's been alone. He needs you so much that he can barely talk. Show him that he can talk to you. About anything.'

Ginny scratched at her face, apparently deep in thought. 'But I bet he never once thought of me while you were gone.' She smiled grimly, as though she expected nothing more.

Hermione actually laughed out loud, even though it wasn't funny. 'Then I win the bet. For the first month – the entire thirty one days, all he could think about was your kiss, honey.' Hermione tapped her on the shoulder in a mock punch. 'Must've been a good one,'

They grinned at each other while Ginny nodded. 'Oh, I gave him all I had.' She winked. 'If Ron hadn't walked in… I could've got more out of him, too.' She giggled, a very un-Ginny-like sound. Neither of them were ones for giggling.

'He thought about you,' Hermione said, turning serious once more. 'I could see you playing on his mind as clearly as daylight. He was transparent. Even Ron saw it. Harry listened for your name, every day on Potterwatch – when Ron came back with that, but before that, you haunted him with almost every waking moment, every thought, every glance at Ron's red hair. And you know how agitated he gets when he's like that – missing loved ones and whatnot.' Hermione sighed and took Ginny's hand in her own. 'Stop pushing him away, and he'll learn to stop pushing you away.' She grimaced. 'Took Ron and I seven whole years to convince him that we weren't going to go running away when Voldemort showed up.'

Ginny's breath hitched when Hermione said his name, but Hermione barely noticed. Outside, the stars had come out. It was the first night since the Battle that the clouds hadn't hung thick and low in the night sky.

'Look, Ginny,' Hermione breathed, pulling her towards the window and dropping her hand. 'The stars.'

Ginny scratched her cheek and cleared her throat, drawing Hermione's attention. 'I haven't been able to see stars romantically since Astronomy class. I just think of suns and names and planets and people and more complicated orbits and…' she sighed. 'I haven't been able to see it's beauty because I was missing something. Love.' Ginny blushed beet red, and Hermione stepped down from the window, letting Ginny push her way to the window. 'But I think I see it. The whole fuss.' Ginny smiled sheepishly and gestured to her door. 'It's taking us an awful long time to get one jumper.'

Hermione shrugged. 'They'll live.'

Ginny was already at the door. Hermione hadn't even seen her move. 'Let's go,' Ginny suggested, moving away before Hermione could react.

Shooting one reproachful look at the stars outside Ginny's closed window, Hermione followed her best-girl-friend through the door and down the stairs.

Hermione trailed her hand against the banister, remembering the summer she'd spent in this exact house. Again, she was a lot slower than Ginny, and by the time she reached the lounge room, it was fully occupied.