It was with a yawn but no smile that Hermione awoke the next morning, after around 18 hours of dreamless sleep. Hitting the button on her muggle alarm clock, she let Justin Timberlake wash over her, as she closed her eyes, listening to the music. She remembered this song; it had been her favourite when she was eleven.

She smiled at the memory of her and her best friend Patricia dancing along with the music, and jumping up and down, screaming the words into their hair brushes at her birthday party sleep over. Crossing the room, she opened the curtains, and, with some effort, managed to get the window open.

As soon as the cold air hit her face, she relaxed. Breathe. Taking in big gulps of air, and letting the sun play with her face, she forced all the memories out of her head. Breathe. Her parents were dead; there was nothing she could do to bring them back. But she could do something to their memory. She would fight in the final battle, and if she were to die during it, she wouldn't care. She was going to do her best to make sure their lives hadn't been taken in vain. It's what they would have wanted, and it's what was expected of her. And she wasn't going to let them down.

The sun disappeared behind a cloud, and she opened her eyes. Rain was falling now, softly, and she closed the window, as another memory came to her. It was of her and her mother, when she was five years old, her mother was barely 30, and they were laughing, as the rain fell around them. Laughing and dancing and had not a care in the world.

With a sudden rush of energy, Hermione knew that she wanted this more than anything at the moment. To be free, to be able to dance and live again. And so she did. She got dressed, not caring what clothes they were; she threw everything on, a skirt over her jeans, a tank top, and she rushed out of the house, barefoot and wanting nothing more than to feel the cool wet drops of water to shower down onto her.

With the door closed behind her, she walked out into the now raging storm. The first few drops were like ice, but she closed her eyes and let them fall, harder, and she smiled, remembering for the second time that day, the warm feel of her mother's hand in hers. She kept her eyes closed and let the memory stay, play repeatedly in her mind, until she was smiling, until she was skipping, dancing around, laughing as she twirled around in circles, her wet hair clinging to her back and shoulders, her jeans were muddy, her eyes were streaming.

She was five years old all over again, and no one could steal this feeling away from her. Her eyes were closed, and she laughed and cried at the same time as she fell to the floor, sobbing her mouth curved upwards in a smile. And when she looked up again, she saw her mother's face, regarding her smilingly. A ghost, maybe, and she was extending her hand towards Hermione. And together they finished the dance, until the hail came.

The ghost vanished, but Hermione didn't mind. She tilted her head backwards as the hail and rain fell, she fell to the floor, still panting, not wanting to move, the smile still etched across her face. Her arms were spread out, above her head, her legs too, as if she were making snow angels, and someone had taken a picture. Snow was falling steadily now, and Hermione was shivering violently, her shoulders shaking, her lips were blue and numb with cold, but she didn't feel it. All she could see was her mother's laughing face, the smiles, her own face, laughing along, dancing, skipping, twirling, running through the rain, the tears of relief, joy and grief all at the same time.

She was smiling still, as her eyes started to close, as the pain finally started to sink in, but was too tired to care. The tears were still flowing, and she was slowly turning to ice, and shaking as violently as if she were sobbing, as her eyes closed, and her head felt as if it were going to burst, but the smile stayed.

"Hermione?" She didn't hear him at first.

"Hermione!" It was said with more urgency this time, as a boy – no a man – came into focus. "Hermione can you hear me?"

She looked at him, and her smile widened. "Charlie!"

The figure shook his head. "Think, Hermione. Can you remember who I am?"

"Sure." Her teeth were chattering. "You're Ron's brother."

"Which one?"

Her face screwed up in concentration, and she noticed the pony tail. "What are you doing outside? You're going to catch a cold!" She scolded, realising who was bent over her.

He looked apprehensive.

"Bill," she said, trying to calm him down. "Don't worry, I still know who you are."

"What the hell do you think you're doing outside?" Bill asked angrily, as he picked her up in his arms, and started carrying her back toward the house. "And why are you soaked and wearing barely any clothes in this weather?"

But she wasn't listening to him. She was smiling, and she looked up at his serious face. "Look," she said, pointing at herself. "I'm smiling."

Bill stopped short, and looked down at the girl in his arms. "Hermione are you feeling okay?"

"You should be smiling too, it's not good to be serious," she scolded, and she amused herself by pushing both sides of his cheeks upwards, so that his lips formed a forced smile.

"See? Much better." She patted his cheek as he continued trudging through the snow grumpily. Why was she acting like an idiot?

"I was dancing, you know." Hermione explained to an un-amused looking Bill. "In the rain. And skipping, I've gotten good at skipping."

Bill was silent, and Hermione stopped talking. "I like the rain," Bill said quietly, and Hermione beamed. "I like the rain," she repeated, and proceeded to burst out laughing. "Rain is nice. I like dancing in it. I used to dance in the rain."

She grew quiet.

"I used to dance in the rain." Bill refrained from telling her she'd already told him so. "I used to dance in the rain," she repeated. Then she added quietly "with my mom."

Bill tensed, but Hermione didn't notice. "I saw her today. She came and danced with me."

Her smile was broader than ever. "I like dancing."

Bill wasn't smiling.

"I like dancing," she repeated, and then she fell limply in his hands.

"Hermione?" Bill shook her.

"Hermione!" When he shook her more forcefully and she just hung limply in his arms, he hoped she would survive the shock of apparating, and after making sure no one was around, he apparated into the kitchen at Grimmauld's place, knowing it would be a total scene if he apparated in the hall for everyone to see.

"Bill!" Mrs. Weasely cried the minute she caught sight of him. "Hermione!"

Bill made a face and tried to explain in hushed tones what had happened.

"Oh dear," Mrs. Weasely was saying.

"She will be all right?"

Mrs. Weasely tutted at him. "Of course she will, I'm afraid we're going to have to ask poppy for a favour though."

Bill blanched. "It's that bad?"

Mrs. Weasely laughed at him. "Of course not dear, it's probably pneumonia, but don't worry, poppy has potions, she'll be better by Thursday. I think it would be best to get her into warm clothes, don't you?"

So he followed his mother resignedly up the stairs and ran a bath while Mrs. Weasely woke Hermione up, and then dismissed Bill so Hermione wouldn't feel uncomfortable. Since Hermione wasn't her usual self again, it took Mrs. Weasely a lot of patience and skill from Fred and George's years, but she managed to strip Hermione of her clothes, make sure she didn't drown herself in her bath and then because she was too tired to do anything else properly, magiced her dry and then magiced pyjamas onto the dazed girl.

"Here, have some of this Hermione," Mrs. Weasely said, as she raised one of Mrs. Pompfrey's many potions to the girl's lips. "It'll make you feel better."

Smiling, Hermione did as she was told. "I think that you should try some too. It's yummy!" She giggled.

Mrs. Weasely sighed, and brought a different potion up to her lips. After she had drunk from it obediently, Mrs. Weasely watched as the girl smiled, and closed her eyes, as her breathing evened out.

Tip-toeing out of the room, she shut the door quietly and turned to Bill, who on his mother's command had been waiting outside in the hallway for over half an hour.

"Everything okay?" He asked.

Mrs. Weasely was shaking her head. "She should be okay. But something must have affected her brain; I don't think it could have been the cold. Poppy says it's nothing to worry about."

"Then I'm sure everything will be fine. If Poppy says it's okay, then believe me, it's more than okay."

Molly smiled at her eldest son. "I know."

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After a week of potions, Hermione had regained consciousness. Word of her illness had spread quickly, and somehow she'd managed to get more flowers and candy than she usually did.

Maybe it's on account of Voldemort, Hermione thought bitterly to herself as she let Ron have the last of her chocolate frogs.

The flowers were beginning to lose their magnificence, and Hermione was glad that she'd pressed one of each kind in a giant copy of advanced ruins. That way, she could hold onto them forever.

She looked away from the flowers, trying hard to ignore Ron's teasing about her losing her head for a week, and instead found herself smiling at Bill.

"Hello," He said, walking into the room, and sitting down on a sofa that was occupied by Fred, George and Ron. Ginny and Harry were sitting on her bed playing chess.

"Lots of visitors."

Hermione nodded.

"You okay?"

She nodded again.

"Mom says breakfast is ready."

She nodded a third time, and quietly slipped off her bed, following the others out of the door. What was I supposed to say, I made a complete fool out of myself in front of him.

Well you could have apologised or said something at least.

Like what?

Does it matter? Now he thinks you're mad at him or something.

No he doesn't.

How do you know?

I don't

Exactly, next time, say something you idiot.

Oh Goooddddd

"You know," a voice said in her ear as she shut the door to her bedroom, making her jump. "I think I preferred the Hermione that would force my cheeks into a smile, even though it was rather painful."

Hermione turned to face Bill, and she could feel the blood rushing to her head, as her heart started beating slightly faster.

"Yeah," Hermione answered, "Well, she's gone."

And she smiled at Bill who was looking annoyed.

She turned back and looked at him. "You coming?"

He nodded and followed, and she grinned. "There, good boy." She patted him on the cheek and crinkled her nose at him. At his humoured face she grinned.

"I suppose she doesn't like holidays much."

He laughed, and she looked into his eyes.

"Thank you for finding me."

He smiled. "My pleasure."

He stayed smiling at her until Fred appeared into the hall way.

"You can finish your stupid talk about treasure hunts and hieroglyphics later Bill, food's getting cold."

And so they joined the rest of the Weasleys and Harry, and Bill, just as Fred had tactfully brought up, spent the whole time telling Hermione about what had been going on in Egypt while she was at Hogwarts.