Harry Potter 1. Chapter 1: Desolation and Torture

Chapter 1: Desolation and Torture

The sunshine and warmth mocked the Weasley family as they mourned. Under the large oak tree that shaded the graveyard, stood about thirty people, clad in black robes huddled around the closed casket. It was a warm day, the weather was nice—but it did little to cheer anyone.

The Weasley family stood together. Arthur clutched Molly, whose sobs continued to echo unevenly throughout the graveyard. George stood between Charlie and Percy, his shoulders shaking uncontrollably. Bill held a weeping Fleur, and Ginny sobbed into Ron's shoulder.

Hermione knew that Harry was trying to give Ginny the opportunity to mourn with her family, despite his certain instinct to go to comfort her. Instead he put an arm around Hermione, and they cried together.

Hermione had never felt so conflicted. Torn between grief and happiness, Hermione didn't know what to feel. She was happy that the war had ended—wizards everywhere were celebrating the fall of Voldemort—but her heart ached for her friends who had fallen. She had attended too many funerals in the past week. So many lives had been lost… Friends and classmates had been murdered before her eyes…

Hermione cried harder than ever, when Arthur spoke of his fallen son. Harry held her tighter, and cried onto her shoulder.

Words were spoken, and memories were shared, but George didn't hear them. He had lived his entire life as part of a pair… What would he do without his second half? He couldn't listen—it was too painful. Instead, he stared at the dark wood of Fred's casket, and cried.

As the funeral ended, and the casket was lowered into the ground, Harry, Hermione, and the Weasley family left through the gate of the graveyard. They made their way down the winding path, through the hills of Ottery St. Catchpole, in the direction of the Weasley Burrow. They could have apparated, but nobody seemed to have the strength to raise the question as to why they were walking.

* * *

Dinner at the burrow was a subdued event that night. George had refused to join them. After telling his mother that he wasn't hungry, he retreated from the crowded kitchen, and made his way to the sitting room, where he exited through the back door.

Harry, Hermione, and the rest of the Weasley family gathered around the tattered table, sitting in mismatched chairs. _Now we're missing two people,_ Hermione thought, staring at the two open spots at the table. Her eyes watered with fresh tears, threatening to overflow.

Bread was passed around the table in silence, and Mrs. Weasley ladled large scoops of onion stew into bowls. Hermione knew that onion soup was Mrs. Weasley's comfort food.

Hermione tried to eat her soup, but found that she was unable to swallow. She wasn't hungry. She found it odd that things as simple as soup and bread could still exist, when the world around her had been altered so significantly by the war.

Hermione heard a sniff from the end of the table. She looked up, to see Ginny in a similar state of contemplation. Her gaze shifted to Ron, who offered a weak smile. She returned the gesture, but the smile did not reach her eyes. Her thoughts went back to the conversation they had earlier that day.

_Hermione sat in the Burrow's sitting room, staring at her hands which sat folded on her lap. The funeral had ended a few hours before, but the grief remained. To her right, the occupants of the kitchen talked in low and mournful voices._

_She looked up when Ron entered the sitting room._

_"Hey," he said, as he took the empty seat next to her on the couch._

_"Hey," she said simply._

_He took her clasped hands into his own, and leaned forward, so that their foreheads were only inches apart. They sat like that in silence for several minutes, staring at their entwined hands, thinking._

_Finally, Ron shifted slightly. "Hermione," Ron said quietly. When he spoke, his voice came out rough, and his eyes filled with tears. He hesitated._

_Hermione looked up at Ron. "What is it?" she asked gently._

_"Hermione," Ron began again. "You know that I've liked you for a long time, right?"_

_Hermione smiled weakly and nodded. "I've liked you for quite some time too," she said quietly._

_"I know, it's just that…" Ron faltered. Several tears escaped his eyes now. He took a deep breath and continued. "Well… I had always thought that when we finally got together… I don't know… I thought that—"_

_"—that you'd be happy?" Hermione finished for him. He sniffed, and nodded. "I know what you mean," she confessed._

_"I had always thought that no matter what happened I would be happy if I was with you. I thought that if we got together, then nothing would be bad."_

_"I've always really liked you Ron," Hermione said quietly, her own eyes filling with tears. "But I understand what you mean. I thought that being with you, was all that I needed to be happy…"_

_"I _do_ love you Hermione," said Ron, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm just not sure if I love you in _that_ way…"_

_She nodded knowingly at him. "I know what you mean. I don't know if we could make it as a couple."_

_They were both crying now, and Ron leaned in, hugging her, and kissing the top of her head. "We might not make it as a couple … But at least we know that we'll make it as friends…"_

The scraping of a spoon against the bottom of a bowl brought Hermione out of her stupor. Looking as though she had just noticed the bowl in front of her, she picked up her spoon. She took several more bites, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't bring herself to do more than sip small amounts of broth from the tip of her spoon.

There was little conversation. The few words that were exchanged were reserved and quiet.

Hermione couldn't bring herself to look away from the empty spots at the table, and her eyes were filling with hot tears.

Picking up her dishes, Hermione stood up. "Thank you for dinner Molly," she said. "It was really delicious."

"Are you sure you're not still hungry dear? I can whip up something else," Molly said, moving as though to get up from her seat.

"No, no I'm fine," Hermione reassured the older woman, setting a hand on her shoulder. "I think that I just need some fresh air… maybe I can clear my head a bit."

Molly nodded knowingly, offering Hermione a sad smile, and patting her hand.

Hermione crossed the kitchen, and rinsed her bowl and spoon in the kitchen basin, leaving them to dry on the rack beside the stove.

She avoided looking at anyone as she moved towards the door. It wasn't difficult—everyone was so consumed in their thoughts, that they hardly took notice as she opened to kitchen door and stepped out into the summer night air.

She started walking, not really sure where she was headed. All she knew was that she wanted to get away from the rest of the others. Hot tears threatened overflow, and spill out onto her cheeks.

After a few minutes, she found herself at a bench that sat along the path that led to Mr. Weasley's shed. She sat heavily and buried her face in her hands. She didn't want the others to know that she was crying. Of course she had been close to Fred, but what she felt must have been nothing compared to how the Weasley's were feeling. Nothing compared to how George must have felt…

Looking up, Hermione saw a lone figure across the lawn, sitting in the garden swing. _George?_ She wondered.

As if summoned by the thought of his name, the lone figure rose. He slowly crossed the weed strewn path, kicking at the dirt as he walked. Hermione wiped her eyes as he approached. He stopped a few feet in front of the bench.

"Hey," he said. His voice was rough, and through the dark, Hermione could just barely make out the tears in his eyes.

"Hey," she responded in a brittle voice, as he sat to her left on the bench. "Are you doing okay?" Hermione was afraid of the response that she would get from him.

"No," he said flatly, "but neither are you." He scooted towards her, so they now sat shoulder to shoulder. After a moment, he leaned forward, and buried his face in his hands. His shoulders shook violently as he cried.

Hermione leaned forward, and put an arm around his shoulder. "It's going t-to be okay G-George," Hermione stuttered. She was crying now too.

George sat up quickly, and turned towards Hermione. He wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her to him. He cried on her shoulder, and she buried her face in his chest.

"W-what are we going t-to d-do without him?" He gasped through his tears.

Hermione shook her head against him. "I don't know," she whispered.

They sat like that for several minutes, George clutching Hermione to his chest and Hermione scratching George's back soothingly. As their tears subsided, George loosened his grip on Hermione, but he kept his arm around her waist.

"Everything is going to be different," said George. It wasn't a question, but a fact that he stated firmly.

Hermione hesitated. "You're right," she said quietly. Her eyes darkened. "Everything is going to be different. The war may finally be over, but the scars could stay forever."

He looked at her curiously for a moment, before shifting on the bench, turning to display the left side of his head.

Hermione gasped. The gaping hole that had once been so dark and uneven was now clean and pink. A soft ring of flesh and cartilage surrounded his ear canal. "I thought that you couldn't regrow it!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Mum thought so too," George explained. "After the battle, Madame Pomfrey had a look at it. She was able to fix me up in a blink."

"I thought it was dark magic that severed it though?" Hermione asked.

"That's what mum said too," said George, "But Madame Pomfrey explained that the curse that Snape used, wasn't so bad that the damage couldn't be undone." He looked offered her a weak smile. "Not all scars are forever."

Hermione's face fell again, and she looked away slightly. "But some of them are."

"What do you mean?" asked George furrowing his eyebrows.

Hermione turned back to him and hesitated. Her fingers fiddled with her left sleeve for a moment, before pulling it back to reveal the word '_mudblood_,' which had been etched into her arm.

George gaped. He stared at the word, pink and fading scarlet against her pale porcelain skin.

He clenched his fist so hard, that his knuckles turned white. "Luna and Dean told us… They said that you were tortured at the Malfoy Manor… But… but I hadn't any idea that she did… _this_," he finished, gesturing to her forearm, which Hermione had already covered with her sleeve again. "I thought that she used the Cruciatus Curse?"

Hermione looked at George solemnly. "She did… but she used her wand to carve up my arm first," said Hermione bitterly.

"Have you used any ointments or potions on it?" asked George quietly.

Hermione nodded. "She used some form of the Cruciatus Curse to do it though… It'll heal, but it will leave a scar no matter what I do." Hermione began to tremble slightly at the memory.

George wrapped his arm around her shoulder again, and rested his head on hers. "Don't think about it," he said quietly. "You're safe here."

They sat in silence again. A few minutes passed, before Hermione spoke. "We should probably go back in. Your mum will be worried."

George nodded, and got to his feet. He offered his hand to Hermione, and after helping her to her feet, they set off in the direction of the Burrow together. When they reached the kitchen door, Hermione cast George a sideways glance. He looked so defeated…

She put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. He looked at her questioningly. "George, we'll get through this."

He looked down at her. He stared into her eyes. Her brown iris's sparkled with the reflected light from the porch light. He nodded. "I know we will."

**AN: Hey, so I wrote another fic, but I ran out of steam. If you want me to continue, PLEASE review! I'm not entirely sure where I'm going with this story! Any ideas?**

**Also, I'm looking for a beta reader! If you're interested, let me know! Thank you so much for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2: Comforting Arms

**AN: Hey, I'm so sorry that it took me so long to update! Anyway, here's the next chapter****! I hope you like it!**

Chapter 2: Comforting Arms

Hermione's skin was bathed in moonlight as she slept. Her hair cascaded down her shoulders and onto her pillows in bushy curls. Her breathing was sharp and uneven as she slept.

"No, please," Hermione muttered in her sleep. "Stop it… Please!"

"Hermione?" Ginny's voice rang out in the darkness. Ginny sat up in her bed, looking across the room to where Hermione slept.

"We found it…" Hermione whispered in the darkness.

_"We found it! PLEASE!" Hermione shrieked as Bellatrix's wand pierced her skin like a hot knife. She kicked and struggled, trying to move away from Bellatrix's wand, but to no avail. Bellatrix had secured Hermione's arms to the floor with a binding spell. Hermione continued to scream until Bellatrix removed her wand to study the wounds she had inflicted._

_"Now," seethed Bellatrix as she got to her feet, kicking hard at Hermione's ribs. "Where did you get that sword?"_

_"We found it! I swear!" Hermione gasped and panted, bracing herself for the pain that she knew would soon be coming. "Please," Hermione begged as Bellatrix raised her wand. "Please, no! PLEEEEEEASE!"_

_She felt as her bones caught fire, her blood boiling in her veins. She twitched on the ground and writhed in agony. As Bellatrix lifted the curse, she gasped for breath, and fell still on the ground. She realized that she had been screaming, as the echoes of her cries reverberated of the walls._

_"LIAR!" Bellatrix spat, kicking Hermione in the ribs again. "How did you get into my vault?"_

_"We didn't steal it!" Hermione sobbed. "We found it!" _

_"CRUCIO!"_

_She screamed as her bones ignited again. She could hardly breathe. White hot metal rods must have been stabbing every inch of her skin, for she felt her skin being blackened and burned by flames. The pain continued for almost a full minute, before Bellatrix lifted the curse._

_She wanted to die. She wanted Bellatrix to kill her now, rather than force her to endure the agony again._

_Bellatrix was screaming at Hermione now. "That sword is supposed to be in my vault at Gringotts! How did you get it? Did that dirty little goblin help you?"_

_"We only met him tonight!" Hermione sobbed._

_"LIES!" Bellatrix kicked Hermione again in the ribs, before pointing her wand at Hermione's heart. "CRUCIO!"_

_White hot light flashed in Hermione's mind as magma began to flow through her veins. Her bones were cracking and melting. She screamed. She was dying. She had to be dying…_

Hermione bolted upright in her bed, gasping for breath. She took in her surroundings with alarm. Several wand tips lit the darkness.

Ginny knelt on the ground next to Hermione's bed, and George sat at the foot of her bed. Arthur and Molly stood in the doorway, and she heard loud footsteps from the stairs as Harry and Ron joined them on the crowded landing outside Ginny's bedroom door. Hermione knew that she must have been shouting, for every inhabitant of the Burrow to have been roused from their slumber.

A moment passed in silence, before Hermione broke into sobs. "I'm sorry," she gasped.

Harry brushed passed Arthur and Molly, as he strode to sit on the bed next to Hermione. "Don't be sorry," Harry admonished her. "It's not your fault." He put an arm around her shoulder and squeezed her tightly. "Was it the Malfoy Manor again?" He asked gently.

Hermione nodded, wiping her eyes. She was about to speak again, when a second sob sounded from the doorway. Molly stood, raising a hand to her mouth in shock. Tears filled her wide eyes, as she took in the angry pink scar on Hermione's forearm. Hermione had slept in a short sleeve shirt, her scar no longer hidden under a layer of clothing.

Hermione drew her arms around herself self-consciously, hiding her scar against her torso.

"It's alright," Harry murmured next to her. "You're safe here."

"I'm sorry for waking you all," Hermione said quietly, her eyes on the floor. "I'm alright now… it was just a nightmare…"

Arthur put an arm around Molly, and led her towards the stairs. After a moment, Harry stood and shuffled towards the door. Ginny stood and stepped back to her bed. Only George remained, sitting at the foot of her bed.

"You okay?" He asked her softly.

She nodded at him in the semi-darkness. George's wand tip illuminated their figures, and Hermione saw the concern etched on George's face.

Suddenly George stood, stretching his hand out for Hermione to take. "C'mon," he said gently. "You need a cup of tea."

Nodding silently, Hermione took George's hand, and allowed him to pull her up, and guide her towards the door. He led her down the stairs in silence. Entering the kitchen, George lit a lamp, illuminating the worn wooden walls and cupboards.

George prepared two cups of tea, and they drank in silence. Hermione welcomed the warm drink. She didn't want to sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she was plagued with memories of her torture, or visions of her friends being murdered.

"Thank you," she said quietly, as she finished her cup.

"Of course," said George. "Are you feeling better?"

Hermione nodded, and George stood to help Hermione to her feet. She murmured her thanks, and George flicked his wand, causing their cups to zoom towards the sink where they slowed, and settled in the soapy water with a soft clunk.

With a hand at the small of her back, George led Hermione up the stairs to the landing which led to Ginny's bedroom door. His room was just across the landing, and his door was ajar.

"Thanks again," said Hermione, smiling weakly at George. He nodded, but she could tell that he wanted to say something more. "George?" she asked quietly.

George hesitated for a moment, before speaking. "I have nightmares too," he said quickly.

"…About Fred?" Hermione asked timidly.

George nodded. Hermione stepped forward, and pulled him into a tight embrace. George wrapped his arms around Hermione's waist, and buried his face against her neck, crying softly. They stood like that for several minutes in the darkness.

George continued to hold Hermione, even after his tears subsided. He pulled away from her to look at her. "Will you stay with me tonight?" She gave him a puzzled look. "We both have nightmares," George continued quickly. "I think it might help us both if we weren't alone… We could wake each other if one of us has a nightmare."

Hermione hesitated for a moment, before nodding. "Of course," she said, offering him a small smile.

George returned her smile warmly. Taking her hand again, he led her into his room. Hermione noticed that Fred's bed had been removed—it was probably too painful to see it always empty, Hermione thought.

George pulled back the blanket on his bed and climbed in. Hermione hesitated, and George patted the bed next to him. Hermione climbed in. George pulled the blankets around them both.

He pulled Hermione into his chest, wrapping one arm around her waist, and resting his other hand on the middle of her back. Hermione laid her head against George's chest, and rested one hand on his shoulder.

She listened to his breathing as they lay there. The rise and fall of his chest beneath her calmed her. He was so warm.

George shifted slightly, pulling Hermione closer to him, and soon they were both asleep.

**AN: How was it? PLEASE review! I really do need reviews to encourage me to keep writing, otherwise I'll give up!**

**Any ideas where I should take this story next?**

**Also, I'm looking for a beta reader! If you're interested, let me know!**


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Harry Potter, Hurt-Comfort, Romance