Everyone is trying to get back to normal, or as normal as can be expected in these circumstances.

Mrs Weasley has fully taken over the housework again, the chores keeping her mind busy. I know she finds the distraction comforting, so I try not to mind that there is no work left for me to do, nothing now to keep my mind occupied.

The rest of the Weasleys no longer shut themselves in their rooms during the day, getting on with their everyday lives as best they can.

Mrs Weasley is cleaning the kitchen after dinner, with 9 people to feed this can be quite a messy affair.

Mr Weasley is in his shed tinkering with a television and video player, telling us that Muggles have found a way to make stories that come alive on screen.

The rest of the Weasleys and Harry have gone to play a quick game of Quidditch in the late evening sunshine.

Ron asked whether I wanted to come and play, but all I had to do was raise one eyebrow and he knew he would not be getting me on a broomstick today. I said I wanted to go and read a book and he looked almost hurt, but we had to get used to the idea of being separate sooner or later. I walked outside with him and he gave me a kiss that was over much too quickly, then shouldered his broomstick and slowly strolled away to the field where his siblings and Harry were already setting up the match.

I watched him walk, the summer evening air pleasant and cooling. It was only a month after the battle, and it felt almost disrespectful to the dead that we just get on with our lives as if nothing had happened. It was George who convinced us we needed to try and start living again, he said he doubted that his brother and everyone else who gave their lives would want us to waste what we had been given. And he was right, but the truth was none of us knew really what to do.

So we slipped back into our old stereotypes, existing rather than living but it was a step nonetheless. Mrs Weasley cooked and cleaned. Mr Weasley played with Muggle toys. Everyone else played Quidditch. I read.

Except I didn't want to read right now. None of what I read was sinking in and I hadn't actually got any further in the book since this morning, my mind drifting away rather than paying attention to the words on the page.

I decided I wanted a bath. It seemed like a good time with the house being mostly empty so I wouldn't run the risk of getting in anyone's way. The idea of a long soak seemed indulgent normally with so many others often queuing for time in the bathroom, but now I could afford some relaxing "me" time.

I gathered the things I would need in the bath and then began filling the tub. While waiting for the water level to rise I studied myself in the mirror. I had done my best to avoid looking at myself over the last month but I couldn't ignore it forever.

I looked a mess. I was still too skinny after the long year on basic rations and many nights with not enough to eat. My body was covered in marks and scars, with hardly any of my skin left untouched. Despite the month since the battle most of my bruises hadn't completely faded yet and were still a sickly yellow green colour as the damage healed. The cut on my throat was now a light pink, a fading reminder of Bellatrix.

When the water was deep enough for me to hide myself in I turned off the taps and stepped in. The water was luxuriously hot and I felt myself relax properly for the first time in months. We were safe now, we didn't need to worry about death being seconds away, taken away with a burst of green light. We didn't have to worry that our friends and family would be stolen away from us, never to be seen again. We had the whole of our lives ahead of us, and we could do whatever we wanted, love whoever we chose without the fear we could lose them.

And it is these wonderful thoughts that are the catalyst to my undoing. An ache is building in my chest that makes it difficult to breathe. My eyes are filling with tears and soon my whole body is shaking with sobs, and now I've started I just can't stop.

The faces of everyone we lost, the explosion that takes Fred's life, Ron screaming my name in Malfoy Manor, Harry being carried in Hagrid's arms from the Forbidden Forest, Ron Disapperating in the heavy rain, the snake lunges and misses by the short distance I have been able to move in a heartbeat, Ron splinched and bleeding in my arms, Greyback's putrid breath hot on my neck, Ron's hopeless eyes as he is dragged away from me to the basement, Bellatrix standing over me, pointing her wand and about to say the incantation that will make me wish for my own death to escape from the excruciating pain.

These memories play in constant loop in front of my eyes, the sights and sounds and smells as real to me now as they were then. And I can't hide from them now, they have escaped from the box I had them locked in and I can't shut them back up again.

"Hermione, are you okay? Mum says you've been in there a while." Ron shouts through the door.

I've lost track of time, its dark outside now and the water in the bath has gone cold. I'm shivering, sat up with my knees pulled tight to my chest with my arms wrapped against my shins as though I was trying to hold myself in one piece. I'm still crying but the tears track down my cheeks without me having to gasp for air.

"Yeah, yeah, just a minute," I call back. My voice sounds weak and pathetic and I despise myself even more. He doesn't reply so I hope he's gone.

I get out of the bath and wrap myself in my towel, rubbing my skin vigorously to try and generate some heat through friction. I quickly get into my pyjamas that I had brought in with me.

I wave my wand and clean the bath and tidy up any mess I had left.

I open the door, and Ron is standing against the opposite wall, leaning casually with his arms folded across his chest. His face is pointed down but he looks up at me from under his lashes, his hair falling into his eyes.

And I break down once again with the shuddering tears that consume my entire body.

Through my blurred vision I see Ron rush towards me and then I am encased in a hug that seems to push the pieces of my sanity closer together.

He half carries me to his room, and then just lies with me on the bed, constantly whispering to me things that aren't really registering in my mind but are soothing nonetheless.

My eyes are against the smooth curve where his neck turns to his shoulder, my hands are against his chest wrapped up tight in his embrace. His arms envelop me, holding me until the tears dry out and my sobs quieten to nothing.