Sooo hey there. Got around to it, finally. I should be back into the swing of things and I aplogise for the lack of momentum. Unfortunately, though many of you were keen for Snape, I'm trying to keep this as close to both the HP storyline and the Supernatural story line as I possibly can, so I didn't resurrect him. I'm kind of like that sometimes. The song this chapter is 'Fix You' by Coldplay. Thanks for all your lovely reviews :)

Chapter 21 – Fix You

When you feel so tired but you can't sleep, stuck in reverse…

The next eight or so hours passed slowly, tensely. Dean wanted so badly to complain about nothing happening to help Hermione but he didn't really fancy pissing off that Minister for Magic. After all, as Sam had noted, he was the guy who had approved their pay cheques for helping out Hermione. No point pissing off the boss.

Eli had gone to see Hermione but their conversation hadn't lasted that long, because he returned five minutes later and said he'd be back to check on her after he was finished work. Kingsley received a message saying he was needed elsewhere, and he told Sam and Dean that they could contact him at his emergency number, giving them his business card, and that he would return later to check on Hermione. Dean got the impression that Hermione was more than an employee to this boss – more like a daughter. He had gone to see her and spent a good hour with her, gently comforting her and calmly asking her about her ordeal without setting off any tears. Dean was impressed.

Dean was onto his sixth mug of coffee when there was a knock at the door. Bobby glanced at him from the office with a frown, wondering if that was in fact the witch-doctor that Kingsley had sent for to help Hermione or if it was a neighbour looking for Bobby to help with a car problem. They had simply assumed the witch-doctor would just appear from out of nowhere.

Dean strode to the front door and when he opened it he didn't know what to think. The man was tall, lanky, and had the most ridiculous mop of red hair, pale skin dotted with freckles and alarmingly bright blue eyes, wearing brown trousers, a plain white buttoned shirt and a burgundy waistcoat. He gave Dean a crooked smile and held out a long-fingered hand and said, "Morning. George Weasley at your service."

Dean tentatively shook the taller man's hand and he said, "What service might that be?"

"Here to help Hermione, of course," he said, tapping the briefcase he was holding by his side.

Sam appeared behind Dean, and he said immediately, "Did Kingsley Shacklebolt send you?"

The red head nodded. "That's the one. I'm his go-to potions man since Snape kicked the bucket."

"Who's Snape?"

"A dead guy. Good with a cauldron though, you know, before he corked it."

Dean held up his hands, saying, "Whoa, okay, stop. We're not having casual chats just yet, alright Sam?" he glared at his little brother before turning back to George. "Alright, you can come in after we make sure you're not a demon. Okay?"

George looked a little bemused but he said, "Fine by me." He drank the holy water they gave to him and stepped right over the salt line at the door and the pentagram on the floor, and when Sam raised his eyebrows Dean nodded his head.

"Okay. You pass."

"Great," said George. "Sorry, didn't catch your names."

"I'm Dean Winchester, and this is my brother Sam," said Dean. "We're hunters. Hermione was working with us when she got possessed."

"Yeah, nasty stuff," said George solemnly. "But she's strong, and she's been through a lot. Probably had worse."

A quizzical frown appeared on Sam's brow. "Do you know Hermione?"

"Known her since she was eleven," said George casually. "Spent a good five years with her at school before I dropped out. Played many a practical joke on her. Taught her about Quidditch. Watched her save the world. Lived with her for a bit when she got engaged to my brother."

Both the Winchesters were taken aback by not only the crash course of Hermione's history but also the rate at which George spoke. It was like he was in fast forward.

"Engaged?" said Sam.

"Quidditch?" said Dean at the same time.

George chuckled at their blank expressions before he said, "Time for that later. Show me to the leading lady, I will fix her."

When Dean led him downstairs to the demon-proof room, George raised a slight eyebrow at the strange, bomb-shelter like contraption before the door opened and he saw Hermione. Dean watched with interest from the doorway as George quietly wandered inside, said her name quietly. Hermione turned around and when she saw George, the pain shimmering in her eyes faded for a moment as she stood and embraced him, gripping him tightly as he wrapped his long arms around her and gently kissed her forehead.

Only after seeing that she was in good hands did Dean leave them be, going back upstairs.

"Been a while, kid," George muttered, gently pushing the hair back from her face.

Hermione's smile was pained, tired, distant, but it was the happiest she had felt in days. "George," she said quietly, "I've missed you."

"You should have dropped by the shop," he said. "Get away from all this for a while. You'd probably be safer, too."

"You know I can't," Hermione replied with a sigh. "Ron wouldn't want me staying there."

"Even Ron isn't enough of a git to behave like that," George said, reassuringly as they sat down on her alarmingly comfortable bed. "Even he wouldn't want you like this."

Hermione flinched slightly, and George immediately apologised. "No, it's fine," she said, shaking her head. "That's why you're here, isn't it? To fix me?"

George nodded, looking quite solemn. "Kingsley told me what's happening to you. I've got the perfect medicine for you, if you trust me."

"I've always trusted you, George. Except for that one time on the train when you turned my cat into a pillow."

"I don't know how many times I have to apologise for that," George groaned, but they shared a smile before he reached over to unbuckle his briefcase and pull out a number of vials.

He held up two skinny vials, one with a gentle pink and one with a calm blue liquid inside, and he said, holding up the blue, "Draught of peaceful, dreamless, lengthy sleep. It doesn't have a technical name yet, but it was designed not only to scare off nightmares at night, and this one, the pink, is for warding off bad memories during the day. Heals your brain, if you like."

Hermione's thin fingers took the blue vial from him, and she glanced at George. She wondered if George had concocted this when Fred had died – she guessed probably, definitely, yes. He was a wreck after that. Everybody was. She could tell from the sad shine in his usually bright blue eyes that she was right.

"That's for before you sleep," he said. "The pink is for when you wake up, and you take it again at lunch. After a couple of weeks your bad memories will be back to normal. You know – there, but not everywhere."

Unable to think of anything better to say, Hermione simply sighed and she took George's calloused, scarred, nimble hand in hers and she held it gently, and he sat with her for a while and they stayed in comfortable silence.

It had only been about forty minutes but Dean felt like it had been forever by the time George came back up the stairs again. He gave the Winchester brothers a wry smile, like he was in some sort of pain himself. "She'll be okay," he said, sitting down at the table with Sam, glancing at Dean who was leaning against the bench.

Sam was wringing his hands together. "Are you sure?"

George nodded. "I know what's happened to her. See, she's already been through this, having to deal with all the emotional pain, and she healed that up. This – demon, whatever it is – it's just torn the stitches right out again, as it were, and Hermione is – well, I'd wouldn't say she's unable but she's too weak from the nightmares to fix it back up again. I – I've given her a potion I used on myself when my twin brother died. It'll work."

Sam flinched a little at the thought of losing a brother, and Dean shifted slightly as though he was uncomfortable. Clearing his throat, he asked, "Who did she lose?"

George didn't even bother grimacing. "Shall I find you a list of the names?" he replied, a little too sarcastically.

Sam and Dean shared a glance, knowing exactly how that felt. George tapped his fingers rhythmically against the wooden table, before he went on. "She lost a lot of friends, family – well, you know, not family, but they might have well as been. She lost her parents, too –"

"Her parents died?" Sam asked, horrified. "She never said –"

George shook his head, "No, no, not dead. She wiped their memories to protect them, and sent them to Australia. She went looking for them but they'd moved, and she hasn't found them yet."

As he glanced to and from the solemn gaze of Sam and the worried from of Dean, George said, "Look, I don't want you to talk to Hermione about this stuff. She doesn't like pity. I just thought you should know how much she's been through and – tread carefully."

Sam nodded. "Maybe you should keep an eye on her for a few days."

"I don't – I don't think I can," said George. "I have a business to run, as much as I'd like to be with her. I'll stay til morning just to be sure that the medicine is working but I don't want to burden you."

Dean said immediately, "There's a couch if you want to sleep on it."

To which George snorted and said, "I'm a wizard, in case you've already forgotten. I'll make my own bed, thankyou very much, direct me to the nearest empty room."

The next morning was rather tense. The lack of sleep combined with the stress of the night before left Dean very short-tempered and Sam very moody. The sarcasm had begun before breakfast was even mentioned and Bobby had to threaten them both to shut their stupid mouths before Hermione woke up.

"She doesn't need to deal with you two," Bobby had snapped. "She's got enough crap on her plate."

George had gone down to check on Hermione as soon as he had woken up. He'd had a brief conversation with Dean before heading straight downstairs. He figured that avoiding the Winchesters and the frowning old guy nobody had actually introduced him to was the best course of action, and he felt his company would be more appreciated by Hermione.

Even if she was asleep. That said a lot about the hospitality of the Winchesters.

She was asleep, but she was not tossing or turning, and she was breathing slowly and calmly. George wondered if he should leave some dreamless sleep potion as well, but realised she would have already tried that. Clearly the damage caused was too great to be fixed by a simple sleeping potion.

He was pondering away when she made a few small noises, stretching as she drifted awake. She blinked slowly, before yawning and staring at the ceiling for a moment or two. She only realised he was there when she turned over, and she didn't look alarmed or surprised at all.

She simply smiled, and said, "George."

"Hermione," he nodded, smiling back. "Did you have a good sleep?"

"Best I've had all week," she replied quietly, and he knew she was telling the truth. There was no pain in her eyes.

"Good," he said. "I'll leave you enough for a month – I mean, you should be okay soon but it's better to be safe than sorry. I can send more, if you need. I –"

"George," Hermione frowned, sitting up in the bed. "Aren't you going to stay? For breakfast, at least."

He shrugged. "No offense Hermione, but your friends – they don't seem to like me that much. I did try saying hello this morning but they're all – well, a bit moody."

"What did they say?" she said, swinging her legs over the side of the bed.

George recognised the look on her face. "Oh, no – Hermione, that's – you don't need to tell them off, okay? They're hunters, I get that, they –"

"You're my friend, George," she said, standing up on her bare feet. "If they don't treat you like royalty, they're going to get a talking to. If they didn't praise you for coming here in the first place then they should be hit over the head with the heaviest frying pan I can find."

He did honestly try to stop her going up the stairs to the kitchen, but George had to admit that the look on the Winchester's faces was priceless when she stormed into the kitchen in her pyjamas and pointed an accusing finger at them.

"Did you or did you not thank George for what he's done?" she demanded, her glare strong enough to make both the brothers shrivel slightly, and even Bobby shifted backwards.

"Hermione – I –" Sam began, but she cut him off.

"This is the most accomplished potions master of his generation and he came all the way out here because of what your stupid demon did to me, and you can't even take a second to say thank you?" she yelled, before her gaze turned to Dean who had been standing by the fridge.

What happened next was quite unusual, but it certainly resolved the issue. Dean took a few steps towards her, staring at her with a strange expression before he gathered her into his arms and held her close. It was now Hermione who was the one taken aback.

"I thought I'd never see you pissed off again," Dean muttered.

Hermione sighed, but George could see the smile as she pressed her cheek against Dean's shoulder. "You're such a prick," she said.

"I know."

It was after that, Sam and Dean shook George's hand and said thanks to him, and when he tried to apologise for Hermione's outburst they brushed it off, telling him that his witch doctor potion must have done something right if she was pointing fingers and shouting as soon as she had woken up.

Hermione thought of how sceptical Dean had been when they had first met, and thought about how much he had changed. He would never have shaken hands with a wizard, let alone called one for help to save her life. God, he would have gladly killed her with his own two hands.

Maybe the demon had done some good. It had hurt, but Hermione was happy to see George and Dean able to shake hands and share a small joke, to drink coffee at the same table. It was almost like victory.

Hermione smiled to herself as she had her toast and juice and she felt better than she had in a very, very long time.

Lights will guide you home, and ignite your bones, and I will try to fix you.