Hermione woke to sunlight flooding the dormitory. She lay still for a while, enjoying the feeling of the soft bed beneath her, the clean clothes and sheets, the warmth of the body nestled in close behind her.

She froze as the events of last night returned to her. Keeping as still as possible, she glanced down at the arm draped over her waist. It was pale, and scarred, and heavily freckled. Definitely Ron's arm.

A slight thrill ran through her but she carefully ignored it, years of practice making the dismissal easy. Instead she focused on the idea that she should probably get up. There was so much still to be done - so many wounded, the castle in ruins, Harry and Neville and Luna to check up on. The Weasleys to support. She shouldn't just be lying here, listening to him breathe. But despite all of this, despite the guilt and sadness that weighed heavily on her, she found that she couldn't move.

She'd nearly lost him. There had been so many times in the 7 years she'd known him that he'd almost gotten himself killed. But this time ... this time it had been so much worse. The other occasions had felt manageable, as though she knew that she would be able to help him, to heal him somehow if it got to that point. But this time she had known that if he didn't make it through the battle, if he got hurt or worse, then there would have been absolutely nothing she could do.

The thought drove a spike of fear through her chest, and she carefully turned herself over so that she was facing him. As she rolled, his arm tightened around her, pulling her closer, and she watched a small smile tug at his lips. It made her heart hurt to see it, and she swallowed the lump that rose in her throat as her eyes traversed his torso. The deep splinching scar in his shoulder, the white bands that criss-crossed up his arms, were accompanied by numerous cuts and bruises that he'd collected while they fought. She silently cursed herself as she remembered that he'd hit his head. Pretty hard, at that. She shouldn't have let him fall asleep.

As if he sensed her worry, his long eyelashes fluttered as his eyes peaked open, and he stared at her from under hooded eyelids. Her breath caught in her throat as she held his gaze, suddenly acutely aware of just how close their bodies were. If she was honest with herself, she was enjoying the proximity of him, the safety she felt in his arms. But she was also aware that this was not the time or the place for those feelings. He was injured, and grieving, and Merlin knew what else. So she pulled back, pretending not to see the flash of hurt that crossed his face.

'Good morning,' she said when she was far enough away from him that her mind could focus on forming sentences again.

'Good morning,' he replied, his brows furrowing slightly in confusion at her purposefully light tone. 'Is ... Are you alright?'

'Yes, I'm fine,' she breezed, and made to roll away from him so that he wouldn't see right through her. But he caught her wrist and held it tight, making her stop. She took a steadying breath before looking at him again. His other hand rose and he gently brushed his thumb against what felt like a bruise blossoming on her cheek-bone.

'What is it?' His voice was so laden with worry that she immediately felt guilty all over again. He had enough to face right now, he didn't need to be thinking about her. And, she supposed, the only way to relieve that worry was the truth.

'I feel selfish for being here with you.' His frown deepened and he made to pull his hand away, but she grabbed it and held it to her face as she gabbled, 'There's just so much hurt and pain and ... So much that needs attending to, and you've got so many more important things to be dealing with that I don't feel right taking up your attention right now.'

'Oh. I see.' Anguish had flashed across his face at her words, at the reminder of what awaited them downstairs. He closed his eyes against the memories she knew were flooding him, and he swallowed before he looked at her again. 'Maybe you're right. Maybe we should deal with all of ... all of that first.' Her eyes stung, but she nodded. He gave her a soft, sad smile, then added, 'Besides, I wouldn't want you to think I'm using you just for comfort.'

'I would never - '

'But I would always worry about it,' he cut in, and he held her gaze. His eyes were so fierce that she nearly stopped breathing. 'I would never be able to forgive myself, Hermione. And no matter how much you denied it, there would always be a kernel of doubt in the back of my mind that you thought that, and it would destroy me. It would destroy me to think that you'd only stayed out of a sense of duty, and not because I'd finally shown you just how much I love you.'

Her head reeled back, and her eyes widened. His ears flushed, but he didn't look away. His boldness, that trademark bravery, made her heart swell as she felt the tears prickling her eyes again.

'I love you too,' she breathed, and he sighed, his shoulders easing and his brow smoothing.

'Thank Merlin for that,' he said wryly. A year ago she might have laughed, but she hadn't laughed for so long that she wasn't sure she remembered how. Instead she pushed her lips up into a smile, and turned her head to press a kiss to his palm. He finally released her, and she got out of bed and stretched before looking back at him. He sat at the edge of the bed, staring out of the dormitory window, his eyes slightly glazed over.

'Are you ready?' Her voice was gentle, but he still started slightly as it brought him back from wherever his mind had gone. He rose and rubbed at his face roughly before turning to her once more.

'As ready as I'll ever be.'

She offered him her hand, which he took, and together they left the Gryffindor tower. The whole castle felt as though it had just released a long-held breath, and was exhausted from the effort. The deserted corridors felt like they were ready to collapse, the paintings on the walls were all empty, even the movement of the staircases was lack-lustre. She didn't mention any of this to Ron, whose eyes had gotten that distant look again. She just kept them moving down through the castle, until they reached the Great Hall.

From the entryway she could see that the Weasleys were already gathered. She wondered how many of them had actually moved since last night. A stifled noise from next to her made her look up. Near-silent tears were coursing down his freckled cheeks, dripping off that long nose. His grip on her hand tightened almost painfully, but he seemed past seeing her. She knew what his clouded blue eyes were fixed on.

She gently tugged at his hand, and he allowed her to lead him to the gathered red heads. As they approached, Molly looked up. Her face held such deep sorrow that Hermione felt a strong urge to look away. But she held Molly's gaze as the woman held her hand out to her. Her other hand was clasped around Fred's white fingers. Hermione didn't balk as she took the woman's soft, warm hand, and stood with the circle of Weasleys for a few moments. She allowed her tears to fall as she looked down at Fred.

He could have been sleeping. His eyes had been closed, and even in death his lips quirked up slightly at the corners, as though he'd had some thought of mischief on his mind in his last moments. She silently said her goodbyes to the boy who had been part of her family for many years, and found that she couldn't bring herself to look across the bed to where George sat between Ginny and Bill. This moment was not for her, and she knew that she would struggle to contain herself if she witnessed the surviving twin's pain.

So she carefully transferred Ron's hand into Molly's and quietly stepped back from the circle. Pain radiated from the group, and those who bustled around the hall, tending to the wounded and beginning the clean-up efforts, gave them a wide but respectful berth. Her heart felt heavy as she turned away from them and scanned the hall for some sort of direction. A purpose. She spied Madam Pomfrey across the hall, bent over a bed, and set off towards her, to ask what she could do to help.

'Hermione.' She stopped and turned back to see Mr Weasley following her, his normally jovial face so unusually grave. He tried to smile at her, but only his mouth seemed to get the message.

'Mr Weasley?'

'Oh, come now,' he sighed, waving his hand dismissively. 'How many times do we have to ask you to call us Molly and Arthur?'

'Sorry,' she mumbled, shuffling her feet slightly. She met his gaze as he considered her for a moment.

'We - the family - we're planning to leave the castle today. There's not a whole lot we can do here, and there are other things we need to attend to.' His voice broke slightly, and he cleared his throat as he stared across the hall at nothing. Hermione remained still and silent until he was able to look at her again, his eyes now a little red. But he watched her as he asked gently, 'Have you had any thoughts about where you'll be going?'

Hermione flushed slightly. The prospect of leaving Hogwarts hadn't even crossed her mind. 'Oh, I, um, I suppose I'll go back to my parents' old house? I can be out of the way there, and close to London should the Ministry need me for anything.'

'I see.' Arthur frowned slightly, as though she'd given him the wrong answer. He was quiet for a while, and Hermione could see that he was trying to work out how to say something. Finally, he said, 'Would it be alright if I were to ask you to come home with us? I ... We have lost an awful lot in these last few days, and I think that I also speak for Molly when I say that we would worry significantly less if you were under our roof.'

'O-of course!' Hermione felt her blush spreading up her neck as she blinked away another round of her own tears. 'Of course. Thank you, Arthur.'

'No, thank you, Hermione. I honestly don't know where those boys would be if they hadn't had you with them over this last year. Or even over the last several years.' He chuckled, but the sound was slightly hollow and made her guts twist with sorrow. He made a conscious effort to stand a little straighter, and glanced at Ron's back. 'If it's not too ... I just wanted to say that I hope Ron will also find comfort from your presence. He would benefit greatly from your strength and compassion. But if I'm honest,' he added sadly, looking around at his quiet family, his eyes coming to rest on Molly. He swallowed hard, then finished, 'If I'm honest, I think we all need you right now.'

'You can count on me,' she said softly, and he bowed his head in thanks before turning back to return to his wife. Hermione continued her path across the hall, but headed towards the double doors that led out of the Great Hall, suddenly feeling unable to face Madam Pomfrey or any of the injured that lay around them. She was tired to her very bones, and every step felt like an effort. Maybe she didn't have to get too involved in the things that needed doing right now. Maybe she had given enough to earn a short rest. Besides, there would be plenty to do when they all returned to the Burrow.

She soon found herself outside, on the stone staircase that flowed down from the main entrance to the castle. She sat in the silence, not really feeling the cool breeze on her face, not really seeing the sky as it brightened, becoming bluer with each passing minute. She didn't even hear the footsteps approaching until the person they belonged to was standing right next to her.

'Hey.' She squinted up as Harry sank onto the step next to her. He looked exhausted still, but it seemed like he too had taken some time to clean up. Her eyes skated over his face and hands.

'Did Madam Pomfrey get to you?'

'Wouldn't let me go to bed last night without a thorough check-up,' he said with an attempt at a grin. But just like Arthur's, the majority of his face seemed unable to commit to it.

'And?'

'For once, I'm in astonishingly good shape.' She saw the guilt in his eyes before he looked away, and reached out to grab his hand. She gripped it tightly.

'They gave their lives so that others wouldn't suffer.' He looked at her sharply and opened his mouth, but she spoke over him. 'We will not dishonour their memories and their sacrifice by wasting the gifts they gave when they laid down their own lives. We will not squander the time and the peace they won for us by committing everything they had to the effort. We won the war thanks to them, Harry. We will grieve, but we cannot let their deaths be in vain, while we sit around and wish that we could have done things differently.'

He considered her for a moment, numerous emotions flickering in his green eyes as he mulled over her words. Surprise lingered there for a moment, before a quiet resolve settled over his sharp, pale features.

'You're right,' he sighed, and squeezed her fingers before turning to look out across the grounds. 'You're always right.' She shook her head, but turned to look out towards the forest, and they lapsed into comfortable silence. After a while, Harry shifted and looked at her again. 'Did Arthur ask you to go back to the Burrow with them?'

She nodded. 'You, too?'

'Yeah,' he said, his face now heavy, tired once more. 'I think they need us, at least for a little while.'

'I think so, too.'

'I'm glad you'll be there,' he said, nudging her with his elbow. 'I think I'd worry too much, not knowing where you are.'

'You sound like Ron,' she said, not unkindly. He nodded in understanding, then stood and pulled her up with him.

'We'd better be with them, so we're ready to go when they are.'

She nodded and followed him back into the castle, ignoring the unpleasant twist in her stomach as her eyes fell on the Weasleys once more. She didn't know if she could sit in that strained silence for long, not without it breaking her. But as they approached, she noticed a slight difference in the atmosphere around the group. It was still subdued, but there was movement now, a sense of momentum. Arthur was counting his children, organising them in a tight circle around Molly and George, who still sat next to Fred. The other Weasleys, Fleur now among them, were staring at Arthur, their faces resolute.

Harry slipped into the circle beside Ginny, his hand resting on her lower back. Hermione saw her lean into the touch, her jaw tightening almost imperceptibly. Ron must have noticed him, too, as he looked away from his dad, blue eyes searching until they landed on her. His gaze was much clearer as he reached for her. She stepped in beside him, his arm wrapping round her waist and tucking him tight to his side. She looped a finger into his waistband and took Arthur's proffered hand with her free one. Charlie clasped his dad's shoulder as Arthur gripped Molly's, Molly clutching Fred's fingers in one hand and George's in the other, and finally they were all connected.

'Ready?' Arthur's voice was a little choked as he gazed around the circle at the pale, freckled faces of his children and those interspersed between them. They all nodded, and he sighed deeply before closing his eyes, concentrating hard as he whisked the whole group away, back home. Back to the Burrow.