A/N: I don't own Harry Potter

This is for the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Assignment # 9 Ballroom Dancing Task #5 - Dancing the Modern Waltz on "I'll Be" by Edwin McCain:Write a fic with the Hurt/Comfort genre.

Warning: canon character death

Word Count: 1009

Hermione refused to do it. She refused to cry. Crying wouldn't bring Fred back. Crying wouldn't fix the holes in the walls, the scorch marks on the stones, or the fact the chandelier was laying in the middle of the floor. No, crying wouldn't do any of those things.

Instead, she threw herself into repairing what she could. She helped Hannah tend the wounded. She didn't cry as she wrapped a broken wrist. She didn't cry while she handed out small tubes of bruise paste to any one who needed it. She didn't cry as she cleaned sheets and organized medical supplies. She didn't cry when Harry forced her to lay down and sleep.

"You can't keep going like this, Hermione. You haven't slept since the battle," Harry had stated. Hermione couldn't argue with him and allowed him to lead her to one of the dormitories they were using to sleep.

"Good night, Hermione."

"Good night, Harry," she had whispered before laying down and closing her eyes. They flew open again within minutes.

She didn't sleep, she couldn't. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his lifeless body. Crying would not bring him back, nothing could bring the dead back. She forced the tears back, forced herself to think of something else, anything else. She thought about those horrible nights in the Forest of Dean. She thought about being cold and hungry. She hadn't cried then, she wouldn't cry now. Crying didn't solve anything.

Morning dawned, with a the sun a fiery ball of orange. She didn't cry at the red sky, how it reminded her of Fred's hair. She thought about those mornings at the Burrow, when she and Fred had jokingly argued over some prank product. She pushed those memories from her thoughts.

There was more work to do after breakfast. She helped Professor McGonagall clean up the broken bricks and stones off the floor. They were stacked in piles. Those that could be reused were put to one side. The ones that couldn't, that were too far broken, were put against a different wall to be broken down and reused.

Broken, Fred's broken body, his features fixed in a smile. She shook her head. No, crying wouldn't fix the bricks before her. She had far too much to do to waste her time with something so useless. She pushed through, sorting the bricks until the bell signaling lunch sounded. She looked up, almost surprised at how much time had passed.

She didn't cry when everyone gathered for lunch. Ron sat next to her, chewing loudly. He started to say something, but his mouth was so full of food, she couldn't make out a word. She almost snapped at him. Almost. She couldn't even look at him. She left the table, after only eating a few bites. It didn't matter, she wasn't hungry anyway. How could she eat at a time like this? How could she eat when he was gone, when she would never see him again, never hear his laughter in her ear?

She spent the afternoon recording damage done to classrooms. As long as she kept her mind busy, she didn't think about about Fred. She didn't think about the small tension building behind her eyes as she continued to force the tears back. She had reached the charms classroom when Ginny finally cornered her.

"George is looking for you," she said, looking around the classroom Hermione was working on.

"I'm busy," Hermione whispered. George. No, she couldn't handle seeing George right now.

"He said he understands that you don't want to talk to him, and he'll be in the library when you change your mind," Ginny added, giving Hermione a look. "And Hermione, we all miss him. You can talk to any of us, remember that," she said, before disappearing out the door and back into the corridor. Hermione watched her leave and shook her head. Talking wasn't going to do anything, all it would do would be bring back memories. She couldn't pause to think about what could have been. There was so much work to do, so many people who needed help, so much that needed to be cleaned, fixed, reconstructed. There would be time to talk, to reminisce once everything was fixed, once everyone had had time to heal.

Hermione felt her eyelids droop. She had finished taking stock of three classrooms so far. The lack of sleep was starting to catch up to her. She shook the exhaustion from her mind. There was so much more left to do. There was a potion, wasn't there? Something that would keep her awake, keep her moving? She remembered she'd left her copy of her potions book at the Burrow. There was probably a copy in the library.

She nearly sleep walked to the library. She stepped inside, and blinked. George was sitting at a table, surrounded by books.

"Ginny said you were here, I forgot. I should go, there's probably a copy of the potion in Professor Slughorn's classroom," she said, turning to go.

"Hermione, wait, please?" he asked. She paused, her entire body trembling.

"George, I can't, I don't have the time. It won't fix anything. It won't bring him back," she whispered. George had rose from his seat and he put a hand on Hermione's shoulder. Slowly, she turned to face him.

"George," she whispered, looking at him. She saw Fred's eyes, his hair. She looked past that, saw George's missing ear, saw the pain in his eyes. Slowly, she allowed him wrap her into a hug and the tears that had been threatening to fall, the tears she had kept pushing away poured from her brown eyes down her cheeks and left wet splots on George's jumper.

"Hermione, it's going to be alright. We will get through this. I know it's hard right now, I know you loved him. I did too, in a completely different way," George whispered, stroking Hermione's hair. She sniffled, nodded and looked up at him.

"Thank you," she whispered. "For being here."