AN: Thank you to everyone who has stuck with this fanfic, I know updates can be few and far between, but I can only hope that I'm still keeping you all interested.

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Chapter Sixty One: Insomnia

The Wizarding World was in tatters.

The Ministry of Magic were scrambling to reclaim their power. There was a mass hunt for the remaining Death Eaters to be captured. Families were mourning lost loved ones and friends grieved whole families lost to the war. Buildings were left in ruins. Homes and livelihoods were destroyed. Lives were irrevocably changed. People had to come to terms with the new reality once more.

Everything was a mess.

It had been weeks since the Battle of Hogwarts. Weeks of rebuilding; Hogwarts, homes, lives, and minds. The past few years had taken its toll on everyone. Nightmares had taken the place of dreams and flat lines had replaced smiles. There was no polite way to answer the simple question- "Hi, are you okay?" - because no one was okay. After some much time in turbulence, no one knew what to do without a plan, a strategy, or a war to fend off your front door. It was heartbreaking.

Yet there was small amounts of joy. People were grateful to be alive, despite the haunting memories or the life limiting injuries or the hard journey of restoring their lives into something liveable again. To be alive was to be lucky and no one could forget the sacrifices made for their small slice of luck as hundreds of funerals took place.

Sat at the long, battered table in the Weasleys' kitchen, Hermione rubbed at her tired eyes. The words on the page before her were blurring again. Letting them close for a brief moment, she took a deep breath. Her heart beat in a heavy rhythm and she could smell her third cup of coffee cooling in her hand. Sipping the dark drink, she opened her eyes and forced her eyes to see words again and not swimming lines and curves. But the words wouldn't materialise and she groaned in annoyance. Slamming the cup down beside the pile of papers, she hung her head.

"You need to sleep, Hermione." Harry's voice startled her and her hand jumped to her wand out of reflex. Her eyes flicked up to meet his, her wand at the ready, as he raised his hands slowly in a motion of reassurance.

"You scared me." She sighed, tucking her wand deeper into her pocket.

"Sorry." He said, moving to sit next to her. Harry eyed the stacks of books and papers. Hermione took her warm cup between her palms. There was a moment of silence, of understanding, between them, "You need to sleep." He repeated.

"I can't." Taking a big swig of coffee, she looked back at the haphazard piles she'd been hunched over for hours.

"You need to." Harry pushed his glasses up his nose and gave her a sympathetic smile, "You're not helping anyone by being sleep deprived."

"You don't get it, Harry, I can't sleep." She admitted quietly, shuffling a few papers together, "I need to keep researching."

"Hermione..." Sighing, he reached out to place a hand on her shoulder, but she brushed him off.

"I can't sleep." She said again, "And I need to do this, so..."

"You need to sleep. They'll still be there in the morning." He gestured to her work.

"Exactly." Hermione snapped, "Harry, they will still be there in the morning. They shouldn't be. They shouldn't be in Azkaban. I have to help them. I have to find a way to help them."

"That's not-"

"No, Harry, I need to do this. I need to do this now." She insisted.

"You're going to make yourself sick." He frowned.

"And what about them? Do you not think they're sick?" Slamming down her cup, she scowled back at him, "They will be starving and sick and cold in that prison. Every human right of theirs has been stripped. So I don't think a little bit of missed sleep is going to make me as sick as they must be right now."

"You can't help them like this." His soothing tone did nothing to calm her frazzled thoughts though, it only deepened her resolve.

"I need to find a way to help them. The trial is a week away and we have no way to help them." Her fingers knotted in her curls and she pulled them in frustration, "We need to find a way. I need to find a way." She muttered, picking up the paper she'd been trying to read before Harry arrived and squinting at it.

"At least take these." Harry offered out his hand and she glanced over. In his upturned palm was a pair of circular spectacles. Her brow furrowed in confusion. Harry was still wearing his own pair of glasses, "I made a copy." He explained, "I thought these might help you see better."

"I can see fine." She said, but felt the lie on her tongue. She'd been so excited when her sight returned weeks ago that she'd been trying to force her eyes to clear up by refusing any aids, pretending she could read clearly in front of everyone, hoping her sight would improve by sheer force of will. It had worked so far, her eyesight had slowly become clearer and more focused, but it was still a challenge.

"I've seen you struggling, at least wear these until you can see properly." Harry pressed them into her hand, "You don't have to struggle alone, Hermione, let me help."

"I'm fine, Harry."

"Okay." He sighed heavily and stood, "I'm going to go back to bed. Try and get some sleep tonight yourself." Squeezing her shoulder, he walked off and she heard his footsteps creak up the stairs.

Turning back to her research, she held the paper closer. The words continued to look like they were underwater and she tutted. Slapping the paper down, she weighed the thin glasses in her left hand, deliberating. She hated to admit to any weakness, but a little help might hurry her progress on. Carefully, she placed them over her ears and rested them on the bridge of her nose. Holding up the paper again, she could see the words better. Even with the slight blur that remained, she found herself skimming down the paper much quicker than before, and soon she was lost in her work once more.