Author's Note:

I know this one is short, but it is necessary in the progress of the story. Sorry it took me so long to get it up. Just got my computer back after it got fried from an electrical storm. Anyway, I am not entirely happy with this chapter, I put it up because I truly just want to move on from it onto the next. I do hope you like it however, as my dislike for it as more to do with being stuck on it for so long.

Disclaimer:

J.K Rowling owns Harry Potter, not me, obviously.

Love and War Chapter 15
Nightmares

It came in waves. Panic lead the charge barrelling through the space in an invisible rush. Pain followed burning the skin in a stinging cloak. Then, confusion cooled over the tender sensation smothering the flames. The pattern, which cycled quickly, was beyond bewildering. The emotions were intense, the combination of feeling blistering the air, and Ginny Weasley felt like she was losing control.

An 'empath'. That is the clinical term to explain her abilities. "Wizarding Abnormalities" classified her as 'one who could read and affect the emotions of others'. The ability to be affected by others' emotions, let alone affect change, it was a skill that required a great deal of restraint. At three years old, she hardly grasped any form of dominance, but after training herself to gain power of her gift, Ginny mastered her grip on what feelings were allowed to affect her own sanity. This was necessary living in a house full of boys, and came in handy within a war safe house, yet now, Ginny could not stop the onslaught of terror. The pain, the panic and the confusion radiated in the air and Ginny knew the source: Hermione Granger.

A shudder pulsed through Ginny as she peaked over at the bed before her. Hermione lay on her side, eyes trained on the potions table across the large hall made into an infirmary. Her lips were drawn in a thin line and her arms gripped the pillow, which her head rested on tightly. She had hardly moved a muscle since George left the medical ward. An instance with such palpability, Ginny still studied the occurrence.

Finally, Ginny had mustered the courage to fight the pain of feeling and hugged Hermione fiercely in welcome, clinging to her with all the love she could convey, and throughout the rest of the day, Ginny had accompanied both Hermione and George in walk around Kingsley's Castle. She had guided them through the stronghold, explaining the passwords and defence wards. The air had actually seemed to clear as the day went on, and after lunch and dinner, Hermione's mind hardly hurt to be around. Until now of course.

The wince George had made when he had scratched his back was an immediate signal for Fred. Instantly, George's wounds had become the most important of tasks, taking precedent to all else. That was when Hermione had tensed. It had been so slight, Ginny was certain, even now, that no one but her had noticed. There was a silent reluctance in Hermione when she had pushed George out the large wood doors of the infirmary and to the bathrooms so his wounds could be washed and mended. Her body had become rigid with fear even as George pressed his lips to Hermione's forehead and promised he would return. Hermione's nod had been nothing but fluid, but Ginny had felt the tremors. Tremors that still shook through the infirmary.

Settling cross-legged on the bed in front of Hermione's line of vision, Ginny realized how much must have happened in Malfoy manor. The shame Hermione felt at being so fragile bittered the room and Ginny sighed, knowing that normalcy was needed now more than ever.

"So," she began, Hermione's gaze refusing to break from the steam bellowing up over the bubbling cauldron. "You and George huh?"

"Ginny," Hermione started with a soft groan, though a smile tugged at her lips. "I just got back."

"And what a better way to celebrate than with telling me all about you and George," Ginny said, a playfulness clinging around her words, and Hermione relaxed slightly. Good, Ginny thought, knowing she took a step in making this safe house more of a comfort for Hermione.

"Nothing to tell really," Hermione mumbled, sitting up on the bed, finally meeting her friend's gaze, "We are just close."

"But," Ginny smirked, drawing out the moment of silence with a raised questioning brow. Hermione eyed the cauldron once more, fascination masking her face in avoidance of Ginny's inquisition. Her gaze was fixated on the potion being brewed, curious as to its purpose. Ginny had to admit it, she too was curious as to what Fred was brewing, but more important matters were at hand. "You do fancy him, right?"

"I-I" Hermione's eyes snapped back to Ginny as she stammered to make a coherent response, "Well-I-You see, the thing is um."

"You don't even try and lie," Ginny interjected and Hermione flushed a deep crimson immediately halting her sputtering. "I can see it," Ginny said with finality, "You fancy George."

"Yes, I suppose I do." Hermione whispered, though Ginny did not need Hermione's confirmation.

"He's mad about you, y'know," With a softened voice Ginny quelled any discomfort Hermione had over the topic, another relief for Ginny's psyche "Absolutely bonkers. He always has been."

"He what?" Hermione hummed unsure, and Ginny only smiled knowingly.

"George has always been mad about you," the pause felt impregnated by intrigue, and Ginny was urged to continue, "Whether or not he realized it, that's another story, but he definitely has always been mad about you Hermione."

"I don't understand," Hermione said, her brows draw together in contemplation.

"It's very simple really Hermione: George fancies you something fierce." Rubbing her fingers against her left temple Hermione focused on what Ginny was conveying, obviously perturbed. "I am not suggesting anything wicked happen between you and my brother, not yet anyway," Ginny winked, while Hermione groaned in mortification. "What I am suggesting is you open your eyes to the reality that both of you are completely head over heels for each other, maybe even say something about it. It may help you move past what happened while you were-" Ginny trailed off, her voice tapering at the end of her sentence, not wanting to, but unable to stop from dwelling on thoughts of her friend's capture.

"Maybe," Hermione said with a clearing of her throat, clearly feeling uneasy on the topic, but Ginny felt drawn to it.

"I-I," Ginny began, trying to overcome the words which were clogging her throat. How she had feared for Hermione when she was first captured. How she had an immense form of dread when not a word was heard of her state. How she had cried every night hoping for the safe return of her adopted sister. "It's just good to have you back, Hermione." Was all she managed to say, tears stinging at her eyes, and Hermione mustered a soft 'thank you, Gin' before the two girls both fell silent once more.

This silence, however, was not riddled in an anxiety anymore. It was comfortable, familiar in its settling. It was as if they were transported back to their younger years when shared a room at the burrow or Grimmauld Place was where they stayed. The night seemed to catch up to the present, the tiring waking hours taking a final toll on both Hermione and Ginny.

Both drifted in their thoughts, their breathing evening out into slow slumbered swells within the copious calm of the medical quarters. Ginny's eyes closed on their own accord as she gently succumbed the nearing slumber. Her breaths tuffed out between her rose coloured lips, matching the rhythm of the ticking clock, but sleep would not reach Ginny.

A sudden sharp scream echoed off the high ceilings before morphing into a series of pained, almost breathless, gasps, and Ginny bolted up. With her wand at the ready and eyes wide, the redhead assumed her fighting stance ready to take on whatever danger lurked in the room. But, who was in danger exactly? Who made that fearful shout?

"I don't know," was whispered, but it was just as loud as the scream to Ginny who was on high alert. In the emptiness of the infirmary, the voice carried over to her, and immediately she locked eyes with the thrashing form of Hermione Granger. "I don't know where," she muttered in her sleep before those same breathless gasps escaped her lips.

"Hermione?" Ginny asked needlessly. She knew it was useless, it was so obvious to anyone looking on that Hermione was having, reliving, a nightmare in her subconscious, but it was all Ginny could do. She stood there, absolutely stock still, unsure on what to say. Unsure on how to act.

"Not George, I swear I don't kn—" A raw cry left Hermione's throat, cutting the words short. With her back bowed upward in a frightening convulsion, Hermione called out in a blood-curdling shriek. Ginny's feet guided her on their own accord, bursting into a run out of the infirmary and up the flights towards the bathrooms. Her heart raced with horror and uncertainty, her lungs expanded and contracted rapidly with her quick breathing, as her legs carried her to the heavy door of Fred's room.

Out of breath and in a state of shock, Ginny's fist pounded on the oak. The beating of her heart drowned out all sounds and her mind raced as pictures of Hermione clung to the forefront of her thoughts. She needed her brother, the only one who was able to help her best friend, she needed George.

"George!" She cried, tears stinging her eyes, "George, please," she continued, hearing the clatter of falling objects or the frantic responses from inside the room. Her pounding only got more insistent.

"Ginny," she vaguely heard her mother's voice from behind her, but continued her banging, "Sweet heart, what is going on?" Molly tried again, more sternly.

"George!" Ginny said, ignoring the attempts to calm her. George was the family member she needed right now. He was the only one who could reach Hermione in this state.

"Gin," George's form finally materialized in the doorway. His jeans hung low on his hips, his chest bare and full of gashes, which were half healed. His hair was sticking up in different directions, and his eyes were wide and full. Panic was set in his face and it only grew when he realized his sister's condition. "What's happening?"

"Hermione," the only word Ginny was able to speak sailed out of her in a hurried plea. It was the only word she needed to speak. Tears streamed down her cheeks and sobs shook through her body, and that one word triggered George into a run. Ginny followed his path, with both Fred and Molly in tow. Down the stairways, across the hall and finally through the infirmary doors the four Weasley's burst through.

"Love," her brother spoke softly to a thrashing Hermione as Ginny watched on helplessly, unsure how to stop the agony floating around the room. "Love, it's me. It's George. Please wake up." George continued, his hand clutched Hermione's while his other stroked through her hair.

Ginny was transfixed on the scene, mesmerized and disbelieving that her best friend would ever feel this much hurt. She noticed how one of the gashes on George's back had stretched open in his run, fresh blood forming at the surface of his flesh. She noticed the quick rise and fall of his chest, how it matched Hermione's laboured breathing. Ginny even noticed the tremble in George's voice as he leaned in forward to press his lips to Hermione's forehead, pleading with her to wake. Ginny averted her eyes to her feet, the intimacy of the moment becoming evident.

It was clear how right she was about her earlier assessment of his feelings. George was completely in love with Hermione Granger.

The room was silent except for George's reassuring and Hermione's muttering. It filled the expanse of the infirmary, making Ginny quiver, but suddenly, it got still. Calm even. Glancing back up, Ginny saw the shift of Hermione's body, once tense, now relaxed in recognition. The lids covering Hermione's chocolate orbs fluttered open, allowing her to search the room, before landing on George Weasley's smiling face.

"George," Hermione's whisper was clear as a bell, pulling the fear out of Ginny and instantly fillings the hole with relief. From the doorway of the infirmary, Ginny continued to watch the pair, alongside both Molly and Fred.

"I'm right here love," George said with a watery smile, "I'm not going anywhere." Instantly, Hermione's arms wrapped around George's neck, while his snaked around her waist, pulling her into an intimate embrace.

"I was back in Malf—"

"Don't say it love," The words were cut off by George's stern yet soft voice.

"It was the same one," Hermione said. Had Ginny just heard correctly? Had this terror happened before?

"I know," George whispered, before pulling back the covers of the infirmary bed and climbing in with the clearly shaken witch. Ginny's gaze turned to the movement on her left, watching as Fred walked out and down the hall, seemingly perturbed by the reoccurrence of this nightmare. Ginny's eyes were fleeting back and forth from inside and infirmary to Fred's retreating form, unsure of what path to follow, when a soft hand guided her attention.

"I think it's best we leave now, Ginny, darling," her mother's voice softened the air. "George has it covered," she added and with a nod both of the Weasley women walked out of the infirmary.

"Mum," Ginny asked as she reached the bottom of the staircase. "What just happened?"

"It's a common side effect of the war," Molly's words were laced with a sadness that Ginny was only starting to understand. Emotions were a category of life, which, not of her own choosing, immersed Ginny. She was completely aware what feelings indeed felt like, but as she glanced back in the direction of the infirmary, Ginny Weasley realized that maybe there was still a lot more for her to learn.

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