'What does it feel like to live alone?' Fred asks a few hours later. They've long since finished dinner and have worked their way through half a bottle of wine, and the lively conversation that stemmed from her question has given way to a more restrained discussion.

'Horrible,' she replies immediately, not even having to think about her answer.

His eyebrows shoot up. 'Really?'

'I haven't been sleeping well. Being alone makes me feel vulnerable, especially at night.' She smiles wryly. 'Some instincts take a while to fade, I suppose. Moody would have been proud.'

'You should've told me earlier,' he says, concerned. 'You could have stayed with us; George wouldn't have minded. Or at the Burrow with Mum and Dad.'

'That's sweet, but I can't just run away from my problems.' Even as a teenager, fleeing wasn't her style. Now, as an adult, it can't be. She can't take the coward's way out.

'Asking for help isn't running,' Fred says, but then he hesitates. He's a Gryffindor, too, after all; she has no doubt he would be just as obstinate as her if the situation were flipped around.

After a few seconds, he asks, 'What if I stay here tonight? Then you're not running; you're just calling in reinforcements.'

Hermione keeps her gaze steady even as her face heats at the offer. It's too much and way too soon. 'I'm not ready for — '

'I know.' There's no trace of annoyance or condemnation in his voice.

Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad for him to stay the night. 'Alright, then.'

-x-

When Hermione stirs the next morning, feeling well-rested for the first time in a week, she's surprised to find a surface suspended a few feet above her head. Slowly, memories of the night before come flooding back in, and a slow smile spreads across her face.

To her amusement, Fred went into full sleepover mode last night. He transfigured her bed into a bunk bed, claiming the top bunk for himself, and they stayed up late, talking and laughing until exhaustion took them. She thinks she fell asleep first, but she can't be sure.

Oddly enough, it was her first proper sleepover. As a child, she never had anyone she wanted to do that with. She shared a room with her housemates, of course, and with Ginny during fifth year, but that was always out of necessity. As much as she enjoyed rooming with Ginny, it was never a choice.

A soft yellow glow fills the room, and Hermione blinks, trying to adjust to the brightness. 'Fred?'

'Just checking the time,' he replies, his voice rough from sleep. 'It's five o'clock.'

The struggle proves to be too much for her, and her eyes drift closed again. She was planning to head in early to prepare before the meeting, but that isn't really necessary. 'Mmm.'

'You snore, by the way,' he says conversationally.

'I know.' She burrows deeper into her pillow. 'I always have.'

'Are you going back to sleep?'

'Mmm-hmm.'

This time, she drifts off to the sound of his quiet laughter.