Lady Diligence

Author's Note: Firstly, I do not own any plot features, characters, places or concepts from the Harry Potter franchise for they belong to the lucky J K Rowling. Secondly, this story involves a lot of mental illness and therapy jargon and minutia so if that doesn't appeal to you or has the potential to unsettle you in some way, consider yourself warned. I will disclose now that I suffer from dysthymia, social anxiety and mythomania so I will most certainly include elements of my own experiences in the writing of Lady Diligence. The rating of this story is based on language, adult themes and sexual content. Finally, I'll stop stalling and say that I hope you enjoy - or if not enjoy, are stimulated by - this story and what I do with the characters and review it constantly and hopefully, kindly, but if not I still relish criticism. Happy reading!

DaenerysTargary3n

As two thirds of the Golden Trio stood before the house that was once a home, neither could find a word apt enough for their new situation. The young man and woman were homeless, neither had a place to call their own in the world and both had naturally fallen in with each other in the aftermath of The Battle of Hogwarts that had stripped them of their friends, their families and even their lovers. The man who had only just relinquished his boyhood had sacrificed his formative years, his happiness, his sanity and his normality to the quest to vanquish the Dark Lord while the woman who had grown up years before her time forswore her heart, her unblemished body, her strength and her books to ensure that evil did not occlude the lightness of the world. So, they were perfectly matched in the beginning of the rest of their lives…

"Well, what do you think?"

"I'm not sure but where else can we go, Harry?"

The man looked at her and said, "There's always Grimmauld Place."

"I cannot go back there. That's where we went the last time we were trying to find somewhere safe. It's got too much recent painful history." Hermione Granger whispered back.

"That's true. I don't know if I can stomach living in this place again though, I mean, it's where it all began, really."

Hermione curled her trembling arm around the crook of his elbow, "I know but it's your house, Harry. It's where you were first kept safe from Voldemort and now, I think it'll be a haven for you...for us both again."

Harry nodded, "You're right. You're always right. I'd better start making the arrangements then, if we're seriously going to live here. If I send an owl to some magical contractors, will you be able to manage some wards to protect it in the meantime?"

Hermione Jean Granger, once the finest and most skilled and knowledgeable witch of her generation, lowered her tawny eyes to her hands which were shuddering painfully at the prospect of holding a wand again and casting the same charms she had over the past year while she and her best friend had scoured the country for those poxy Horcruxes. Ever since the battle had wound up two days ago and she had cast - hopefully - her last spell in defence of her life, she had not been able to grip her wand or perform any magic. It was as though the previous years culminating in the showdown between the supporters of Voldemort and the followers of the Chosen One had sucked all the magic and the ability to use it right out of her.

"I'll try," she whimpered, feeling truly devoid of worth and value as she missed her capability to spellcast, "but I can't promise anything, Harry, I'm sorry. If I can't, you can and I'll deal with the contractors...that is if I can still hold a quill! You learned all the wards when we were in the Forest of Dean, remember?"

"I know I can cast them, 'Mione, but you need to find your magic again. You were too skilled with it to let it vanish without attempting to rediscover it. Besides, you have always protected me and Ron so it only seems logical to me that you be the one to put up the protective charms here."

The woman beside the great Harry Potter felt undeserving of such praise and such expectations, however, she could not bear to let Harry down, not when he was so magnanimously permitting her to remain by his side as they both tried to reintegrate themselves into magical society after eschewing it for so long to concentrate on saving it. With a curt nod, she delved into her magically deepened satchel and extracted her wand. She paused and reacquainted herself with the weight of it resting in her hand for a moment or two before extending it along with her left hand with the palm open. She lowered her jaw as if to commence the enchantment but just as Harry thought his best friend would speak the words, instead she buckled to the damp footpath below her, dropped her wand and heaved her guts up onto the road.

Within seconds, Harry was kneeling beside her on the ground, pulling her bushy and unkempt hair away from her ashen face as she continued to vomit. Once she managed to stop, she leant back, breathless, into Harry's chest and just cried, mourning the loss of her magic and - in her eyes, for sure - her usefulness and her reason for living.

"I'm sorry, Harry, I'm so sorry. I just can't do it. I just can't." She moaned.

"Hush now, hush, it's alright. I'll do the wards. You just sit here," Harry soothed her while he plunged his hand into her bag, "and drink something."

He handed her a bottle of water and stood up with a squeeze to her shoulder. Once the necessary or at least reassuring shields were in place around the Potter house in Godric's Hollow, Harry sat beside his best friend and held her hand.

"You sure you don't mind me staying here, Harry? I know you must be sick of the sight of me after all this time and you probably just want to get on with your life. I can find somewhere else, it's no problem. You just have to say if you've changed your mind, you know?"

Harry felt his emerald eyes dilute with the salty water building up over them, "You are my best friend, Hermione and I am so glad you want to move in with me. It means I won't be alone and I'll have the closest thing I've ever had to a family. I want you to live here with me. It feels kind of right. My parents are dead and your parents' memories couldn't be returned, so why shouldn't we be each other's family when we've both lost our own?"

His companion eased herself into his side and wrapped her arms around Harry the second she observed the first tear escape his eye. It was true what he said and she knew that. Ron still had his family, although it had lost one member, around him and they had welcomed him home from their absence with open and waiting arms. However, for Mr Potter and Miss Granger there was no such greeting when they came out of the final fight in the war against Voldemort.

Two weeks later (magical contractors were a right sight faster at finishing their jobs than their Muggle equivalents), the pair were safely and finally moved in. They had been dwelling in the one room on the property - James Potter's study - that had been unscathed by the attack that had killed its user but they were finally ready and the work was finally complete to shift into their individual chambers. Harry had adamantly informed everyone that he had no intention of sleeping in the master bedroom but that he wanted to assume his old place in the Potter house so they had decided that his former nursery would be renovated into a bedroom. Hermione had reluctantly acquiesced to Harry's request that she occupy his parents' old room because - according to him - it would make him feel better if he knew someone was nearby and in the room where two people who protected him lived and he could think of no one more suited to honour their memory in that way than Hermione, his contemporary protector.

The first night of their new lives in their own bedrooms and sleeping apart, it was Hermione who roused the house as she screamed shrilly into the night.

"Hermione, Hermione!" Harry bellowed as he sprinted into the neighbouring room and discovered Hermione writhing about and sweating profusely on the wide bed.

"Get away from me," she shouted, "no, no, no, leave me alone! I don't know where the sword came from! I'm innocent! Leave me alone...please!"

Tears began to stream from Harry's eyes as he realised what his best friend was experiencing in her dreamscape that was causing her to scream so and gyrate as though in searing and unimaginable pain.

He held her down and rested his head close so that his lips were inches away from her ear and murmured gently, "It's alright, Hermione. It's alright, you're safe now. You're not at Malfoy Manor. Bellatrix is dead and the war is over. You're at home with me in Godric's Hollow. Wake up, Hermione. I've got you."

As the saviour of the wizarding world tried to save his best friend from former public enemy no.2 who inhabited her dreams, he noticed that while he spoke, her heart beat slowed and her movement became less violent. He knew that even if she didn't consciously register that he was in her bed, she was aware that he was nearby and that she was not in solitude battling against the evil bitch who had dared to inflict the Cruciatus curse multiple times on Hermione. That in itself was a balm to both.

In the moments and weeks after he had routed the threat of Voldemort and his followers, Harry Potter had been experiencing emotions that he had never encountered before he found out his blood had magic flowing through it. The fulfillment of his prophecy and seemingly his life's task, which he didn't expect to survive, had coerced him into experiencing feelings of uselessness, pointlessness and inconsequence. Apparently, the same sentiments the woman in his arms was feeling at the same time.

When Harry approached Hermione the next morning, she had no recollection of her night terror and how it roused him from his bed. He had a feeling she was in denial but the young man had no way to be sure either way.

"I'm sorry. I woke you and on your first night properly at home too. You must be awfully angry with me. I'm sorry. I do have nightmares from time to time but more often since the battle. They aren't usually so violent that I disturb anyone else or have no memory of them whatsoever."

Harry waved off her apologies, "It's fine, 'Mione. After all, how many times have you helped me get back to sleep after a nightmare? Have you ever thought of taking some sleeping draught?"

She nodded, "I do take a vial of sleeping draught. A vial a day keeps the insomnia away. I used to not sleep at all before all the nightmares so I already used the draught but they don't have enough potency to quell the nightmares too."

Her companion, despite knowing her since they were eleven years old, had no idea she had been downing sleeping draughts. She had never spoken of difficulty sleeping ever but upon reflection, he had to wonder at his incredulous stupidity and lack of observation skills. The reason she had been there to comfort him during nightmares and yank him out of them on occasion was because she had heard him (from the girls' dormitory no less!) as she was burning the midnight oil. In the light of his being a complete and utter dunderhead (a term used frequently by Miss Weasley if he remembered correctly), his feelings of inadequacy tripled.

"I'm sorry I never noticed. What can I say? I'm a complete arse."

Hermione embraced him, "No, you're not. You're Harry James Potter, the man who saved us all. You can't take care of us all too, you know? That was supposed to be my job..."

He turned in her arms, "You still have that job and you were always so good at looking after us, 'Mione. We - I - would have been truly lost without you."

The pair wound up making their gestures to continue making adjustments to their home. Neither were that interested in interior decoration, however, they were both making the effort for each other. They did their work separately but had agreed that the pièce de résistance would be put in its place by both residents together before they retired.

After a quick evening meal, the witch and wizard moved into the hallway and stood before the conspicuously bare section of wall which was the first thing one saw upon entrance into the house. With a deep breath and having grasped Hermione's hand for courage and comfort, Harry raised his restored holly and phoenix feather wand up to let its effervescent and entrancing Mountbatten pink make its mark on the wall.

Hermione squeezed her best friend's hand as she watched the flow of greyish magic pour from the tip of his wand and come into contact with the blank wall. The magical force was created a rectangular shaped canvas that filled the space. As it developed the fabric changed colour all over until Hermione could make out the faces of the people whom the canvas was replicating. First she identified the faces of Harry's parents, then Sirius and Remus, followed by Moody and Tonks. As the details were brought out, the visages of Albus Dumbledore, Severus Snape, Fred Weasley and Colin Creevey were in front of her. As the work of art moved into its final stages of creation, the images of her parents came into existence.

"Harry, why? They're not dead."

Harry faced her and looked deeply at her through waterlogged eyes, "Your parents may not be physically dead, but they did die in the fight against Voldemort and to keep someone they loved safe. They died as your parents, 'Mione, they died emotionally and practically as your parents. Their loss was so that you and I would be safe and able to find the Horcruxes without fearing that Death Eaters had taken your family to get to you and insodoing, me. They belong here just as much as my parents do. The war with Voldemort took them away from their child, just as it did with my parents."

After they had shed all their tears and dampened each others' clothes, Harry and Hermione ascended the stairs and went to bed in their respective rooms. Hermione imbibed her sleeping draught and curled up in bed and Harry dressed down to only his bottoms and chose to lie atop the covers to feel the cool night. It was a sensation that reminded him of the frigid night air when they had been camping in the Forest of Dean. An unfortunate final thought to have before succumbing to his fatigue.

Hermione was in the early stages of a nightmare as usual, but the dream had not reached critical stages yet and she was able to claw her way back to consciousness from the nightmare in which Cedric brought Harry's corpse back from the cemetery instead of the other way round. She had only just witnessed the champions set off into the labyrinth when a harsh din interrupted her slumber. As she stirred, it dawned on her that the racket was coming from the room next door. It was Harry bellowing in agony.

So, just as he had done for her, she flew into his bedroom to see his arms flailing about and his pyjama bottoms damp with the perspiration that was making them cling to his clammy skin and his face was flushed in torment.

"Harry!" She gasped before she traversed the distance from his door to his bed and threw herself on top of it so she lay parallel to her unconscious friend.

"Mum, dad, don't go! Please don't leave! Sirius, come back! Come back, damn you! Why? Why did you have me, mum, if you were just going to leave me here? What's the fucking point?"

She couldn't work out what was going on in Harry's addled mind but from the silent tears plummeting from his already bloodshot eyes, she knew that wherever he was he was in the most acute pain. He had soothed her in her hour of need and now - just as she used to when she had purpose and he used to have night terrors at Hogwarts - he needed her to safeguard him from the demons which plagued his sleep.

Once she managed to hold him in the vice that her strong arms created, she spooned him so he could feel the entirety of her form stretched behind him, fully supporting him and entirely with him in real life. After years and years of practice she had perfected the art of lulling the Boy Who Lived but really the Boy Who Suffered back to restful sleep. All she had to do was get him to let her lie beside him without taking her eye out or breaking her nose and then she just hummed softly to him. It never particularly mattered what tune she chose but tonight's choice was a track she had overheard on the radio when they had stopped at a cafe on Church Lane after pausing for a time at the Potter Memorial in the heart of the village. The singer was a popular British woman called Adele and the song just spoke volumes to her in the wake of the war and after losing so many dear ones. By the chorus she even felt that she needed to croon softly the lyrics as her humming turned to singing.

I know you haven't made your mind up yet,

But I will never do you wrong.

I've known it from the moment that we met,

No doubt in my mind where you belong.

I'd go hungry; I'd go black and blue,

And I'd go crawling down the avenue.

No, there's nothing that I wouldn't do

To make you feel my love.

"I didn't know you could sing." Harry muttered as the beautiful sound roused him, but roused him pleasantly.

"I can't really, but I love that song. It's so mournful but hopeful, it's so apologetic but assertive. It's who I used to be before the battle. I used to be so sure of everything, I used to know where I was going, what I was doing and what my goals were. Now...now, I'm not sure I have any. Sorry for waking you up, by the way."

"I don't mind. It was a nicer way to wake up than I expected after that nightmare. Thank you for coming to save me from it," Harry whispered, before turning still in her tight embrace to face her, "but I do have one question. What about the battle affected you so? I mean, we've been through a lot. You yourself have been petrified, persecuted for being Muggle-born, attacked by werewolves, dogs and dementors, sunk to the bottom of a lake, cursed by Death Eaters, tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange, assaulted by a killer snake, Snatchers and you survived all of that. So, I'm just curious as to what ordeal could rattle the famous Hermione Jean Granger so badly that she can no longer use her magic or sleep without nightmares."

Hermione knew she had survived a hell of a lot considering she had only just left school but she gave her most trusted friend the answer he sought regardless of her inhibitions, "Well, you know that during the battle, Ron and I kissed. We kissed in the Chamber of Secrets but in the fight afterwards when I saw Remus and Tonks lying so close to each other with their hands just touching and I thought of Teddy, I just couldn't wrap my mind around it. He was so kind and the dearest soul I've ever met but he's left a boy orphaned, just like your dad. I guess I thought the point of all the magic and potions that have been spent since 1981 was to finally get rid of Voldemort and stop children like you were from losing their parents to evil, megalomaniac bastards. We couldn't save Teddy's parents though and you're his godfather and you very nearly died and now you've come and locked yourself away from society with me, just like Sirius was. It's just so heartbreaking, Harry, the number of times I've read Hogwarts: A History and thought about changing history and the way events unravel, I just can't accept that history is repeating itself so similarly...AGAIN!"

As per usual, Hermione with all her knowledge had over-thought and over-analysed everything to the extent where it had driven her mad. Harry had always depended on Hermione and her bookishness to see him through and as an innately positive aspect of his life, but her awareness and understanding of times gone past and how history worked had cost her dearly...had cost her her power.

"After all that, I knew I just couldn't be in a relationship with Ron - or anyone for that matter - because we fought for relationships and they have just crumbled around us. I helped bring about the change with you and Ron but I know in my heart that I'm not part of the solution, the better world we were fighting for. I don't have to fight. I have enough money to simply be for the first time in forever, to figure out where I fit into this huge and torrid mess."

"I understand. Thank you for telling me."

She smiled but it didn't quite reach her eyes, "It's your turn to do some sharing, Potter. Out with it. What happened to you afterwards? You never did tell me and I've just blabbed my story so have at yours!"

"It's simple really. I'm a simple kind of guy; I'm not as clever or complicated as you. It was Ginny...Ginny happened. I was fine, well not fine, but I was coping until she came at me. Fred was dead and she screamed at me by where Hagrid's hut used to be that his death and all the death was my fault. I thought she was dragging me out there to ask to get back together or something like that and I loved her. To hear the person you love and hoped to spend the rest of your life with blame thousands and thousands of casualties of war on you flips a switch somewhere and then the lights turn off and when you want to find the switch and turn yourself back on, you can only fumble for it in the dark."

Hermione enclosed him tighter in her arms and rested her head between his neck and shoulders to just listen to the sound of their heartbeats, not beating in synchronicity, but beating all the same.

"I had an idea today, Harry. I think both of us need to see and talk to someone about this. We need counselling so we can get better. The things we've been through and seen are horrible and we can't spend every night running to each other's room because they're having a nightmare. What would happen if we were both deep in a nightmare at the same time? We'd be alone. I know a few of the Hogwarts students have been sent for counselling at St Mungo's and I think we should go too - together or separately, whatever you like, but we should go."

Harry smiled, liking the way she was portraying the former version of herself by telling him to do something and finding out about it. It was a shadow of Hermione Granger as she used to be when they actually attended Hogwarts before she got lost and overwhelmed by the search for the Horcruxes and obliviating her relatives. He missed that clever, socially inept, proud but vulnerable girl. He preferred her to this Lady Stoneheart (where had he read that name? Harry was sure it wasn't original...) who had lost her compassion and her drive and locked the entire world - save him - out of her heart.

"I'll go. Can we go together and see what comes of it? Just to start off with?" Harry petitioned her.

She stroked his cheek fondly, as a mother might her son, "Of course. Now, go to sleep and think nice things so you don't end up thinking about them."

"Okay," he replied with a yawn, "goodnight, 'Mione."

She left the comfort of his bed and just as she passed through the door, she mumbled to herself, "Goodnight, Harry. Don't ever stop listening to me. You're the only one keeping me alive."