A/N: Hello again ladies and gents! I am so pleased with the amazing response you guys have shown me! Thank you so very much! It means so very much to me that you are loving the story, as it is written out of my comfort zone. I hope that you enjoy this chapter as well.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, only the plot that deviates from the original story.

XoXo,

Elle!

Chapter 2

June 4, 2000

The Second Wizarding War had ended and peace reigned once again in the wizarding world. All the former Death Eaters had been prosecuted and sentenced, their punishments carried out. Hermione, Harry and the Weasleys had testified on the behalf of the Malfoys who had been spies for the Order, despite what everyone else had believed. Snape had survived Nagini's attack and he had also shown his memories to further prove the Malfoys' innocence.

Now everyone had dispersed, going their separate ways for a while. All needed space after the stress of the war. Sure, Hermione kept in touch with her two best friends via owl, but it had been two years since she'd seen them. She missed them like crazy, but she still felt unsettled by all she had seen in the war. She still couldn't get the image of Lavender's battered, bruised, bloody and gnawed-upon body out of her mind. She still woke up from nightmares about it, drenched in sweat and shaking.

That's why she was awake in the wee hours of the morning. The leftover sweat was drying on her brow as she pushed her hair back from her forehead. Her chest was heaving still, fingers trembling as she rose to stand from the bed. She moved to the closet. Pulling on a pair of running shorts and a tank, she decided on going for a run.

After securing her trainers on her feet, she piled her hair on top of her head and left her parents' house. She had left them in Australia. They were happy there and she didn't want to risk permanent damage by trying to reverse the memory charm.

Hermione paused at the end of the drive and bent over to stretch her muscles. The sky was a pre-dawn grey and the fog was light; she couldn't tell if it was going to be a drizzly day or a bright day yet, but the feeling of humidity in the air told her that rain wasn't far off.

Once her muscles were loose, she took off into a light jog down the sidewalk. Her eyes stayed on her feet, watching them hit the pavement as she went. Her normally active mind was blissfully empty as she focused on the sound, rhythm and feeling of when her foot would connect with the concrete under her shoe.

She was so absorbed in her process that she didn't hear the other runner approaching until it was too late for the both of them. They crashed into each other with a loud sound and Hermione went flying backwards, casting a silent, wandless cushioning charm to lessen her impact. The man across from her, however, didn't fare as well as she did.

He had thrown his arms behind him, his hands catching his fall, scraping the palms raw. The coppery scent of blood hit Hermione's nose and made her chest seize in panic. For a moment, she was back in the war, but the moment passed and she jumped right into concerned mode. "Oh, I am so sorry! I wasn't paying attention. Are you okay?"

The man arranged himself, leaning forward to move his hands around to the front of his body. He turned his palms up, their eyes falling to the bloody, jagged cuts. There were dust, grass and other small debris in the wounds and Hermione winced. "I've had worse," he assured her.

Hermione looked around, noticing she was only a few houses down from hers. She gave the man an apologetic smile once more and pointed. "My house is just there. I've got a kit, if you'd like to go and clean it up." She knew he was a Muggle; she could feel it, as surely as one could feel their hand attached to their body. "I'm Hermione, by the way."

The man looked at her with a smile and she truly looked at him for the first time. He was a handsome bloke, with black hair, eyes that were impossibly blue, and a strong, prominent jaw. His cheekbones were high and distinguished, and his nose would have been straight, had it not appeared to have been broken a couple of times. "Name's Tad. Tad Wallace."

Hermione stood, brushing her arse off, and waited for him to rise with a little difficulty. She then turned, looking back to make sure he was following, and walked toward her house. Silently, she dropped her wards, making it so he could enter. She had left it visible to Muggles, but no one could enter without her permission.

They crossed the threshold, and she closed the door behind them, narrowly suppressing the urge to throw every lock and bolt home. She settled for just locking the deadbolt, and led Tad into the kitchen. "Here, have a seat and I'll be right back."

She left him in the kitchen and went to her bathroom to retrieve the first aid kit and a towel, keeping her wand in close proximity. Tad was physically stronger than she was and could easily overpower her, and if that happened, then she could overpower him with magic and obliviate him. She went back to the kitchen, expecting to see him in the chair she'd pointed out. But instead, he was at the sink, rinsing the wounds out with water. Hermione tilted her head as she watched him. He was smart. Not many people would have thought to do that, especially while being in pain.

She laid the kit on the table and opened it, retrieving the items she needed: peroxide, triple antibiotic ointment, and bandages. She also pulled out the tweezers just in case there was a stray pebble or something stuck inside a cut.

He came back to the table and sat down, laying his hands palm up on the surface. Hermione gently inspected the jagged cuts, making sure there was nothing foreign stuck there. Satisfied that all debris was clear, the unscrewed the lid off the peroxide bottle. "This will probably sting."

Tad made a grimace and chuckled as he lifted his arms for Hermione to tuck a towel under his hands. "It's okay, I assure you, I've had much worse."

While he had assured her, it still didn't stop the groan of pain that had escaped his lips when the astringent had started to bubble and clean the microscopic dirt away. Hermione felt horrible. If she could just use her magic, she could take away the pain.

It took ten long minutes for each new drop of peroxide to finally stop bubbling, indicating that the dirt was gone. Hermione was glad. She promptly used a clean towel to pat dry his palms, then applied ointment liberally and bandaged them carefully. "All done," she said with a smile, looking into his face.

"May I take you to dinner? By way of thanks?" His ocean blue eyes were hopeful and she couldn't help but say yes.

"Absolutely, that would be wonderful."

They made arrangements for the following Friday, exchanging numbers and Tad had left, going on his merry way. Hermione decided to abandon her run and make breakfast instead, then settle in for a day of reading and relaxation. And that is exactly what she had done, excited at the prospect of her date next week.

XxX

The second hour had gone by as slowly as a snail climbing to the top of a lamp post. George had long ago abandoned the dip and wipe routine with the washcloth, figuring he would start wiping off layers of Hermione's skin if he kept it up. She had stirred a few more times in that hour, as if she were dreaming. He would catch a glimpse of a small smile before it would disappear in a frown and whimper.

George heaved a sigh and rose from the chair he had been occupying, his back cracking from the readjustment of his spine. First things first, he needed to relieve his bladder and in order to do that, he had to go back out into the main room. With a large inhale filling his lungs, he walked out of his room. His eyes immediately zeroed in on that mug and the pain returned full force once again.

It was like someone had placed his heart in a small box and was slowly closing the sides in, making the box smaller and smaller by the second. Before the panic set in, he ran into the bathroom and shut the door, gulping at the air. George didn't dare look too closely at the supplies in the bathroom. He knew it would still hold all of Fred's things as well as his own. He simply quickly relieved himself, washed his hands and scrambled free of the confined space.

The door to the flat opened before he could reach it, his magic having surged before him. The cool air hit George in the face, helping to calm his racing and hurting heart. He left the door open as he stood on the landing, in the event that Hermione woke up.

George held his wand aloft, let his eyes fall closed and began to sift through his brain to find the happiest memory he could drum up. But every memory that made him happy included Fred and before long, he had tears streaming down his cheeks. With each cherished memory replaying in his mind's eye, he was laughing while crying, healing a little without realizing it. Finally settling on the memory of the Grand Opening of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, George called out confidently, "Expecto Patronum."

His lids opened as he felt the magic burst from him, and when his hazel eyes landed on the silvery white figure before him, his heart squeezed and he smiled softly, tears prickling his eyes. There, blinking up at him with a goofy and toothy grin, was a hyena. It seemed his Patronus had changed to mimic his brother's and it couldn't have made him happier. Fred hadn't truly left him after all. "I need you to go and find Healer Malfoy." A dip of the hyena's head said that it understood and George continued with his message for the healer. "I need you to come to the flat above Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes immediately, please."

The hyena was off in a moment, a silvery trail marking its disappearance as it took off. George returned to Hermione's side, hoping that the Healer who had helped him through his most difficult times could help Hermione. He was getting more worried as time wore on. George sat back in the chair, leaning forward to take Hermione's hand in his, rubbing her knuckles with his thumb. Healer Malfoy had better get here soon.