Title: Triggers
Pairings/Characters: Hermione Granger, Harry Potter
Forum/Challenge: The Golden Snitch's 'Light it Up Like the Fourth' Challenge (Mahoutokoro, House Mizu)
Prompt: (song) Katy Perry's 'Firework'
Word Count: 500

The nightmares hadn't stopped.

Not after she was fully recovered—at least, as recovered as she'd ever be, thanks to Bellatrix's cursed blade. Not after the Battle of Hogwarts, when she saw Molly Weasley blast her personal dementor into a million little pieces. Not even after a year with a mind healer, slowly working through the trauma her school years.

Ron had lasted through Christmas, but he eventually left and relocated back to the Burrow, where Molly could mother him.

"It's like, you're my trigger, 'Mione," he admitted one night, when they'd all had too much elf wine and Harry had passed out on the sofa. "You start screaming, and all of a sudden I'm back in the dungeons listening to you be tortured."

She tried not to resent him for that: that his worst nightmare was listening to what she went through. He had lost his brother—had watched Fred crushed by the debris from Rookwood's Bombarda—so she knew there was more to his recovery than just her screams.

That didn't make his leaving hurt any less.

She'd thought throwing herself into work would make the pain go away, but the truth was she'd burnt herself out. She'd stretched herself paper-thin at the DRCMC, and after months of suppressing her anger a final comment from her blow-hard boss about half-breeds had toppled her resolve like a house of cards.

Harry had escorted her from the Ministry, her shouting her resignation and refusal to work for a pompous, pea-brained, toe-rag the whole way to the Floo.

Now here she was, crying on her bed at Grimmauld, single and unemployed. She didn't know if it was rock bottom, but it sure felt like it. Her chest felt tight, like she'd been buried alive and was running out of oxygen.

She wished she still had her time turner, so she could start all over again. Go back to first year and fix all of the wrongs. She wanted a do-over, a take two. She'd be better the second time around. She's fix everything, save everyone.

Save herself.

She heard Harry come in, climb the stairs, open her door. She felt him slide up behind her, his arms wrapped around her waist, his nose nestled in her curls.

"Hey."

She sniffled in response.

"You're gonna be OK, Hermione. It's all gonna be OK."

"What am I going to do, Harry? There's no way I'll be able to work at the Ministry after today."

He kissed her forehead. "Brightest witch of our age? You can do anything. Maybe today was fate, and another door will open for you that leads you down the perfect road, to the perfect job. You don't need the Ministry to show the wizarding world what you're worth."

His hand stroked her arm, and she melted into his touch. Here she was safe.

They fell asleep on her bed, and for the first night in a long time she did not wake screaming.