A/N For me, the next week will probably be the equivalent of all hell breaking loose. I will be very very very busy, so here's a new chapter… I tried to make it a long one as reimbursement for my not being able to update soon. I am horrid at touchy/feeliness, but figured I should give it a go, so if it sucks, don't hold back. I need criticism to learn…

Now read on fellow HP weirdoes! (I use the term weirdo in the utmost form of endearment- since I am a HP weirdo myself teehee.)

Disclaimer: You know, and I know, and JKRowling knows, and her top notch lawyers know, that I own nothing in the Harry Potter Universe.

Chapter 6

Insomiacs.

Thoughts shown as –blah blah blah-

Hermione woke up, again. It had been her first night in the Burrow, and the day's events were plaguing her. She was horrified with what was wrong with Mrs. Weasley, and Mr. Weasley had come in that night around eleven pm, barely acknowledged her presence, and gone straight to bed, Ron and Ginny were at each other's throats for some reason, and she had a vague suspicion she was part of the cause. The house had lost it's old warmth and glow, and she felt like she was lying in a tomb rather than a bedroom.

-Hot Chocolate, that will help-

Hermione got out of bed, and softly pattered down to the kitchen. She saw that she was not the only sleepless person in the house, and sat down next to Ron at the table. She knew she really needed to talk things out with him anyways, and now was as good a time as any.

Ron was the first to speak. "So, erm, couldn't sleep?"

"No, I've been up all night. New surroundings, you know?" she replied.

"But they aren't new, Hermione." She grimaced at the use of her full name. With him it was always 'Mione. He said it meticulously, coldly. He never called her that unless he was really and truly pissed.

"Well, you know, it has been awhile." She answered, realizing that she probably just said the wrong thing. And, alas, she had.

That was the last straw for Ron. Alone it wouldn't have ruffled a feather, but he had been fuming inside since she left, and that one sentence broke the proverbial camel's back.

"Well, WHOSE FAULT IS THAT!" He boomed, rather surprised by his volume.

"Ron, please stay calm." Hermione countered, still much shaken by his outburst.

"Calm? Hermione, you left after Harry's funeral without saying a word. You didn't tell anyone where you were going; you cloaked yourself from location charms. For all we knew, you could have been captured by one of the leftover death eaters, and rotting in the ground somewhere! Do you think it was easy for me to lose my two best friends in a matter of days? Do you think it was easy for this family? You were one of us Hermione, and you damn well knew it. But no, you selfishly took off, running from you're problems, burdening us with even more! Do you know how long we were looking for you? Searching muggle hospitals, and combing every place known to man? We never would have found you had you not stopped casting the counter location charm on yourself. And to America? You had to run that far? What was SO BLOODY WRONG WITH US THAT YOU HAD TO LEAVE WITHOUT A WORD?" Ron had started out calmly enough, but the last few sentences grew louder and more strangled until he was screaming again. His face was bright red, and his eyes were brimming with unshed tears.

Hermione at that moment saw how much she had hurt everyone. She had been the cause of Harry's death and had caused her wizarding family months of worry and heartache. If she could have felt any worse than she had for the past year, she did now. Guilt invaded every fiber of her being, and tears began welling in her eyes. Unlike Ron, she didn't try to hold then back, and her face was soon covered in a sticky mess of tears and snot.

"Ron, I'm so sorry," she warbled, "If only you could have felt what I was going through. I'm so sorry, Ron. In retrospect, I see that leaving was a mistake. But you have to understand how I was feeling." Hermione broke off there, unable to adequately explain the way she was feeling.

"Hermione, what is God's name makes you think that you were feeling anything different than the rest of us? I lost my best friend too. I lost everyone else too. I wanted to crawl under a rock and hide too, but things had to be done, and people needed me. People trusted me, and I did not let them down." With that Ron got up, and stormed up to his room.

Hermione was left in utter ruin. She had to get out of the house. She had to clear her head. She went to the only place she could think of.

6

George had been watching muggle infomercials on the television for the past two hours. He had left the remote on top of the TV, and didn't have the strength to get up and walk the four feet to retrieve the remote. Actually, he didn't have the strength to grab his wand that was four inches away from him and summon the remote. Besides, these things were kind of interesting. He suddenly had the feeling that he really needed the All-in-one hammer, screwdriver, toothpick, wire stripper, and ruler they were advertising. If he actually had a phone, and had the energy to pick it up, he probably would have placed an order. George was brought out of the wonderful world of television by a knock at his door.

"Bloody hell, it's three in the morning, who in their right minds is up at this time of nigh?" he sighed, conveniently ignoring the fact that he was up at three in the morning.

-Who would be knocking on my door? No one knows I live here, and I have never spoken to any of the muggles. I'm not one for muggle customs, but to be calling at three am is rood in any culture-

George grabbed his wand, and cast a charm on the door to reveal to him the person standing on the other side. She had her back to the door, but he knew only one person with that wild curly hair.

He quickly walked to the door and opened, loosing all of the laziness he had possessed minutes before. Hermione turned around at the sound of the doorknob turning. George was shocked at the sight of her. Her hair was mussed and tangled, and her eyes were extremely red and puffy from crying. She was barefoot in her pajamas, and he realized she must have apparated there. Then realizing he was just standing in his doorway gawking at her, he moved aside to let her in.

"Hermione, what happened?" Concern was evident in his voice. He placed a protective arm around her shoulders and led her to the couch.

"Ron happened." Was her only reply.

However, George could imagine everything that had been said, since he had many times sat on the other side of his little brother's drunken musings about Hermione's leaving.

"You know Ron, it'll blow over soon. Now that he's finally gotten to tell you how he was feeling, he doesn't have to hold on to it any longer, and will soon stop fixating on it." George had seen similar behavior countless times with Ron. For that matter, Hermione had as well.

"I know, but all the other times, I could fall back on the knowledge that he was wrong, and I was right. But this time, he is right. I just realized how much I hurt everybody in leaving, and I thought it was for everyone else's good. It is my fault that Harry died, and I believed you all secretly blamed me for it. I couldn't keep going around with a fake smile on my face, and be with all of you when I knew deep down that I was the cause of his death, so I spared you the tedious task of hiding your feelings of me, and left." She answered, felling a tremendous weight off of her chest when she told George her feelings on the subject of Harry's demise.

George shuddered at the though of Hermione blaming herself for so long. He also saw doubt in her words. She still thought she was responsible for his death. He grabbed either side of her arms, and turned her on the couch so that she was looking straight into his eyes.

"Hermione. No one but yourself blames you for Harry's death. Do you understand that? No one. It was an accident. Accidents happen. You know the same fate would have befallen Harry if it had been Ron in Bellatrix's sights instead of you. What Harry did was what he seems to have been put on this earth to do in the first place, and that was to protect."

With that, tears welled up in Hermione's eyes yet again. George conjured a box of tissues, and began helping Hermione wipe her tears. He wrapped his arms around her still shaking frame, and held her until she fell asleep against his chest. – How could she still be blaming herself for this? It was Harry's choice to sacrifice himself for her. She had no say in the matter. How could she think we blamed her?- Just then, another thought crept into George's mind

Why do I think they all blame me for Fred's death? Because, this is a totally different case, and I am the cause of Fred's death. Had he just taken the healing potion before testing the products…-

With those thoughts of guilt, George fell asleep with Hermione still wrapped comfortable in his arms.

Hermione woke up very warm and comfortable. She snuggled closer to the source of heat, and realized that it was a person. Slowly looking up, she saw that it was George, and the memories from the previous night flooded back to her.

He was so nice to take me in. Here he trusts me with his location, and I thank him by showing up a right mess on his doorstep a few hours later. –

Their conversation came back to her, and she wondered if they really did not blame her for Harry. He seemed so utterly convincing. She didn't think he was lying, but then again she had been practically hysterical. He was probably just trying to calm her down.

She snuggled back up to George, thankful for the warmth and the comfort of being held, the feeling of safety, and drifted back into sleep.