Notes: So, well, this is a thing that was not supposed to be so ambitious and, of course, it grew into something massive. I suppose we can call this the Grease-inspired Dramione story that we never knew we needed. And we have the Strictly Dramione FB group to blame. XD
"You really need to relax."
It wasn't the first time someone uttered those words to her after the war, and honestly, she expected them from George Weasley well before now. He eyed her from her tense shoulders and sparking frizzy head all the way down to the way she locked her knees and always had her feet pointed toward her nearest exit.
"Hermione, you need to relax."
She wanted to shout at him. She wanted to thrust her marred arm in his face and tell him where he could shove all his talk of relaxing. Instead, she clenched her fists at her sides and breathed in through her nose and out of her mouth in a steady pattern.
"I'm not trying to make you angrier." Only George would laugh after saying something so infuriating. "It's just that I know better than anyone that you can't let the tension get to you. It'll make you ill."
She had a hard time arguing with George. Him, more than most, understood her. They'd shared grief, they shared pain, they've shared being physically altered by war. But, dammit, he was really making her angry.
He reached into his robe pocket and withdrew a small pink phial. "When things get hard, when I miss him and I feel myself shut out the world, I take this."
He shook it in front of her face and yanked it back when she tried to snatch it from his hand.
"Uh-uh." He shook his head. "Listen, I know he's never coming back, and I know that you know that your parents are never coming back. But this, Hermione, this helps."
"What is it?" She hissed the words through clenched teeth.
"Patented Dream Draught." He smirked and winked and completely ignored her rolling eyes. "Altered the recipe for nighttime dreams."
"I'm not taking drugs-"
"Not drugs. A potion to calm your mind and allow you to relax enough to sleep." He lowered his eyes between them. "And it stops the nightmares."
The nightmares. They were the worst. The war hadn't been over for a month and Hermione was inundated with nightly reminders. Bellatrix Lestrange, The Snatchers, Harry leaving her to find Voldemort on his own. It all made her skin crawl. It made sleep impossible. It made the idea of returning to Hogwarts where it all happened absolutely unbearable.
"George." Hermione closed her eyes and took in a short, shaky breath. "Potions only put a plaster on the symptom. It doesn't fix the problem."
"How do you suppose you're going to fix the problem," George asked shrewdly, "if you can't function properly enough to figure out what you're trying to fix?"
"I know what I need to fix," Hermione whispered. "The war, it changed everything. I need everything to go back to normal. I need to go to Hogwarts and finish my seventh year."
George sighed. "And how do you intend to get through the year without sleep, Granger?"
She wanted to shout at him and stamp her foot like she'd do to Ron. She wanted to complain about his behavior and say something snarky like she'd do to Harry. But, when she watched George and the way his normally sparkling eyes gazed at her without any light at all, she caved. Hermione held her palm out and grimaced.
"I'll try it here first," she told him pointedly as the cool phial touched her palm. "If it makes me bald or gives me unnatural strength, I'm going to curse you beyond the veil."
George offered her a smile, which was rare these days, and nodded. "I find those terms agreeable."
Hermione's lips pursed. "I'll sleep in Ginny's room while she's staying with Bill and Fleur. Do me a favor, George?"
He inclined his chin.
"Don't tell Ron or Harry?" She chewed her bottom lip and didn't wait for him to agree before she turned from the kitchen and raced up the stairs.
She stared at the phial for over a quarter hour. Before the final battle, she'd never agree to voluntarily drink a potion made by the twins, even one of them. But now, with George suffering and struggling to find his humor without Fred, she guessed it was harmless. Still, she never wanted to be that person, the one who coped with potions and herbs. She wanted to be stronger than that, able to carry the weight of life and still make it through.
But now was not the time for heroics, she reasoned. Now was the time to be okay, to be relieved, to enjoy a world that she'd fought tooth and nail to be part of. So, yes, of course she was going to try the Daydream Draught.
She eyed the liquid warily as she uncorked the phial, and ran through a quick 3-2-1 in her head before tossing the liquid back into her throat and swallowing before she could change her mind. It didn't taste bad, actually, and she was shocked to discover that it was more like fruit punch than essence of toad.
"Cheers," she saluted herself in the mirror as she tossed the empty phial among a pile of clothes in her luggage. "Sweet dreams, I suppose."
Sadly, the potion did nothing to help her fall asleep quickly. She still suffered for a long while with remembering all those she lost and everything she wished could be changed. While she was settled on the memory of Draco Malfoy sitting in the Great Hall and offering her a brief, possibly grateful for her part in the war, nod, Hermione finally fell asleep.
Her very next lucid moment was decidedly different to everything she knew in the past two years. Instead of a dreary Burrow, filled with sad friends, Hermione was sat on a bright beach watching strangers run around and splash in the water.
It was most definitely summer.
And she was finally, wonderfully at peace.
