Hello. Fancy seeing you here!

This is a story I've been planning for a number of years, and with the help of my darling sister and editor Cheezels, I've finally started to write it. Actually, this is the story before the story I wanted to write, the one that makes the story I want to write make sense. Confused? Me too.

I am not giving a series of disclaimers. This is a fan fiction website, and this is fan fiction. If I owned the characters I write about, it would neither be fan fiction, nor would it be here. I do not feel the need to continually remind you of this.

Please let me know what you think – constructive criticism is very much appreciated. Insults are not. If you don't like something, feel free to tell me, but please give me some reasoning. "Your story sucks and you suck at writing" is neither kind nor helpful. Tell me what sucks, and I'll grow to become a less sucky writer. :)

We start three weeks after the Battle of Hogwarts.

Chapter One – Too Much

It was a Saturday when it all became too much for Molly Weasley to hold in any longer. The years of living in constant fear, the deaths of close friends, a year of not knowing where Ron was, Ginny at Hogwarts under the reign of those Death Eaters, George who had yet to leave his old room, and Fred…

Really, it was surprising that she'd managed to hold on as she had. Now, however, she broke down. The cast-iron walls of her control began to shudder, and ripped apart with a scream of tortured metal. The flood of emotion swamps her, wave after wave crashing down. Never pausing long enough for her to catch her breath. Never pausing long enough to find something to hold onto. No lift raft, nothing to cling to. Wave after wave, swamping all her feeble attempts at control.

Finally, it becomes too much to bear, and the only thing Molly can do is withdraw; hide herself within herself. Shut down.

It was Ron who found her. She was sitting at the kitchen table, staring at the wall, with tears slowly drying on her cheeks.

'Mum?'

Responding took energy she wasn't sure she could find.

'Mum? What's wrong?'

She wanted to reassure him, but she couldn't seem to find the controls. Ron shook her shoulder gently.

'Mum, you're starting to worry me. Mum?'

She was trying, she really was. But she just couldn't make it work, her mouth, her body, and it all too such an effort. She didn't want to worry him, she really didn't, but she couldn't seem to do anything about it.

'Ron? What's the matter?'

There was someone new, a voice that should have been familiar. She couldn't seem to care long enough to identify it… That alone should have worried her, but worry seemed beyond her grasp. Any emotion did, really.

'It's Mum. She's just... sitting here, shaking. She won't talk to me Hermione. She won't even look at me.'

Hermione. Ginny's friend. Ron's girlfriend. Hermione…

She was trying to hold on to her thoughts, but they just kept slipping through her fingers, dancing just beyond her grasp.

A cloud of bushy brown hair obscured her vision.

'Molly,' a gentle voice prompted. 'Molly, can you look at me, please?'

She tried, she really did, but it just wasn't working. Gentle hands took hers. Molly noticed that they were warm, so different from her own. She was cold; she was always cold, ever since… Walls clamped down on the thought, and Molly withdrew further. Not going there, it hurts. She had to protect herself from the pain, or it would overwhelm her again.

'Molly, we're going to take you upstairs to bed, alright? You have a nice lie down, and I'll look after everything.'

Gentle hands were helping her to stand, and then her youngest son was there, helping her up the stairs. As she hesitated, he reassured her.

'Don't worry, Mum. Hermione's going to finish dinner for you. You just have a rest.'

As she allowed herself to be tucked into bed, Molly almost wondered at her lack of protest. She never let anyone take over her kitchen. Her kitchen was her kingdom. She wondered why it didn't worry her more.

She was distracted from her vague thoughts by quiet voices just outside her door.

'What's wrong with her? Why isn't she… doing anything? Hermione, what's wrong with my Mum?'

'I think things have just… caught up with her, Ron. She's got a lot on her plate. Losing Fred, almost losing Ginny, not knowing where half of us were for the last year. Really, I'm amazed she hasn't broken down before now…'

As the voices faded, Molly relaxed. Someone, at least, had an inkling of how she was feeling, and wasn't going to push.

She started with dinner. With Molly Weasley out of commission, someone had to feed the ravenous Weasley tribe, and she'd volunteered.

It was impossible to describe the variety of expressions present that night. Hermione walked out of the kitchen, a trail of dishes following her to the table. Soups, a stew, casserole, and freshly baked bread, made the Muggle way.

'Hermione?' Ginny's tone left room for a whole world of answers.

'It's fine,' she reassured everyone. 'Molly's not feeling herself, so she's gone to bed. I'm just making sure you're all getting fed.'

She ended with a smile, and she could feel the whole table relax.

'She's really alright?' Arthur Weasley asked, still concerned for his absent wife.

'She's fine,' she repeated with a smile. 'Things became a bit much for her, I think. She's sleeping now, but I'm sure she won't mind if you check on her.'

There was movement around the table as everyone started to stand. Years of war meant that everyone was still on edge. The fear of losing someone else still burrowed in their hearts.

'Not everyone. She needs rest. I'm sure she'll be up and about in no time, as long as she's not constantly bombarded with questions!' Hermione's tone softened. 'Look, I know you're worried about her; I am too. But give her some time. She only started feeling off this afternoon.'

Everyone settled back into their chairs again. 'Now, soup, anyone?'

The meal had gone well, though Hermione did notice a few hesitations around the room before people began eating. She assumed they were all still worried about Molly. After all, Ron couldn't still be holding a food grudge from the Horcrux Hunt, surely.

Once dinner was finished she gathered the dishes and set them to scrubbing. It was times like these that she loved magic. The pile of dishes left over from a Weasley dinner would have taken her hours by hand.

'Is there pudding, Hermione?' Ron's voice rang through the open door. Hermione jumped at the sudden loud noise. Honestly there was no need to shout.

There was a quiet grunt and a not so quiet 'Hey!'

'Honestly Ronald, stop badgering the girl. She's done an amazing job managing to feed the lot of you, and now you're asking her about-'

Ginny's admonishments were cut off by Hermione's entrance. 'Is coconut ice cream alright with everyone?'

There was a slightly stunned silence, which was broken by Bill. 'I think I'm in love.'

Percy elbowed him. 'I wouldn't say that too loudly if I was you. Fleur's sitting right here.'

Bill turned to his brother. 'Fleur doesn't come bearing coconut ice cream. No offence, love.'

Fleur smiled. 'None taken. Ze way to a Weasley man's 'art is through 'is stomach.'

Bill grinned. 'Never was a truer word spoken.'

The table laughed, and any tension was dispelled. Hermione held up the scoop. 'Ice cream?'

Hermione pushed open the door silently and peered into the darkened room beyond. Molly lay on the bed, just as she and Ron had left her.

'Molly?'

There was no response, though Hermione thought she saw Molly's eyes flicker briefly to the door.

'I'm just going home now, but I'll be back in the morning to see how you are. You rest up and I'll see you tomorrow.'

Again, she was greeted with silence, so she shut the door just as quietly as she'd opened it, and headed back downstairs, making her goodbyes as she passed various Weasleys and adopted Weasleys. She ran into Bill and Fleur at the fireplace.

'Heading off?' Bill asked.

'Yeah. I'll be back in the morning to see how she is. You two off home?'

'Fleur's eager for it to just be us two again. Not that having you all stay wasn't great, and you're welcome to come again anytime, but…'

'We loved 'aving you, but ze war is over now, and I want to go 'ome. We all need time to… recover, I theenk.'

'I completely understand. I'd like to curl up in bed and sleep for a couple of days. No more worry, no more stress. There's a lot to do…'

'But it can wait. You go home, Hermione. You look like you haven't slept properly in months.'

'Thereabouts. Night Bill, Fleur.'

'Goodnight, 'Ermione.'

When Hermione arrived back at the Burrow early the next morning, she was greeted with silence. It was not a comforting sound. The kitchen was deserted, the table was bare. She tiptoed upstairs, and passed closed bedrooms doors, faint snores coming from behind more than a few. She glanced at her watch. If they didn't hurry, they were going to be late for work, every single one of them.

'Right, Weasleys!' she called, banging on doors as she walked past. 'Breakfast's in ten minutes! If you're not there, you miss out, and if you don't get moving, you're all going to be late for work! Up!'

''Ermione? Wa'tch yellin' for?' Ron's tousled head stuck out from a door on her left.

'Look at the time, Ronald.'

'Eh?' There was a pause as the head was withdrawn. 'Bloody hell! Harry, get up, we're late! The store's meant to open in half an hour!'

There was a thump, and an exclamation of pain. Hermione smiled as she headed back downstairs. Boys.

Ten minutes later, the table was crowded with Weasleys hurriedly eating pancakes. Hermione hid a snicker as she watched the usually immaculate Percy try to eat with one hand and comb his hair with the other. The mighty Percy Weasley, brought down by a comb. Smiling, she took it from his hand and fixed the unruly hair herself. 'There you go. Chop-chop, you're all going to be late.'

With many quick goodbyes and many thanks for the breakfast, the table emptied as fast as it had filled. The crowd moved towards the fireplace with much jostling and muttered complaints. Hermione was vividly reminded of Hogwarts breakfasts. Soon, only she and Ginny were left.

'Ginny, what does your Mum usually do for George? I haven't seen him since, well…'

There was a pause, broken by Ginny taking a deep breath and pasting a smile on her face. 'Mum usually takes a plate up to him. He doesn't come out at all, so far as we can tell, and she didn't want him to starve.'

Hermione grimaced. 'What about last night? I didn't even think, I was so busy… he was probably starving.'

'Don't worry. I took some soup up for him after dinner. The bowl's probably waiting for us now. I kept telling Mum we shouldn't encourage him to stay in his room, but she didn't want to make it hard on him. Hermione, it's been nearly two weeks since anyone's seen him. He went in there straight after Fred's funeral, and he hasn't come out since. We're all really worried.'

'Let's see what we can do. We should probably check on your Mum first, though.'

Ginny nodded, and they headed up together. Opening Molly's bedroom door quietly, they walked in.

Molly was where Hermione and Ron had left her the day before, though someone had tucked her in.

'Dad and I changed her last night. She didn't say anything, didn't do anything. She just lay there, looking straight through us. It was like she couldn't see us, like she wasn't seeing anything. Dad won't say anything, but he's really worried about her. Losing Fred hurt him; losing Mum would kill him.'

Hermione walked over to the bed, and put held Molly's hand in her own. It was clammy. Molly didn't look at her, just kept staring at the wall behind her.

'Molly, are you feeling any better? Is there something I can get you?'

There was no response, not that Hermione expected any. Seeing Molly like this, she thought it would be rather a while before she was up and about, and even longer before she was back to some semblance of her sunny, welcoming self. Until then, Hermione wanted to make things as easy as possible for her second mother to recover. Molly had opened her heart and home to the Muggleborn witch time and time again, and this was the least Hermione could do to repay her overwhelming kindness.

'I might bring some tea up later,' Hermione said, smiling brightly, though she was crying inside. 'Ginny and I are going to take George his breakfast now, so we'll come back later.'

With a final squeeze of the older woman's hand, Hermione walked back to the door, where Ginny was waiting.

'D'you think –'

Hermione cut Ginny off with a finger to her lips, and nodded towards the door they'd just exited. She walked down the hall a little way before speaking. 'Just because she's not responding doesn't mean that she can't hear us. I'm fairly certain she's having a nervous breakdown. My mum had one when I was seven, right after her brother died. She didn't get out of bed for a week, and didn't talk to anything for nearly a month. She still doesn't like talking about it.'

Ginny had gone pale. 'What can we do?'

Hermione smiled. 'What you're doing. Love her, support her, and take away the worry. Don't force her to do anything – yet. It may come to that stage, but she'll work things through by herself. She's been under a lot of stress for a long time, Gin. She's exhausted. She needs time to recover.'

Ginny was silent for a moment, then nodded. 'Let's feed George, shall we?'

Hermione let out a sad-sounding chuckle. 'You make him sound like an exhibit in the zoo.'

Ginny gave a wry smile. 'At least you see the animals at the zoo.'

The sign read 'Gred and Forge – Pranksters Extraordinaire'. Hermione knocked.

'George, its Hermione.'

She didn't expect an answer, and she didn't get one.

'Your mum's not well, so I'm looking after the kitchen for a while.'

More silence. She looked at Ginny, who shrugged.

'Ginny tells me she usually brings your food up to you?'

She was beginning to wonder if he was even awake. However, she doubted anyone could have slept through the circus that was the Weasley family getting ready this morning.

'I understand how hard this must be for you, but it's not healthy to stay in there all by yourself.'

She wasn't sure what reaction she was expecting, but whatever it was she didn't get it. She got nothing.

'It's been a fortnight since the funeral, George. You need a change of scenery. So I'm not bringing your food up anymore.'

She braced for an explosion. Still more silence.

'I'll leave a plate for you on the kitchen table. You don't have to sit down and eat with us. You don't have to see anyone if you don't want to. But if you want to eat, you'll have to come down. She really hoped she wasn't laying down an ultimatum to a sleeping body.

'I'm not trying to spite you. I can't imagine the pain you're in. But you have to keep living. We can't lose both of you.'

Was it her imagination, or had the silence grown icier? She glanced over at Ginny. Tears streamed down the girl's face.

'We miss you, George.'

It was barely more than a whisper. She wrapped her arm around Ginny's shoulders and led the sobbing girl to the kitchen. She needed a cup of tea.

It had taken a while for Ginny to run through her tears. Everything poured out onto Hermione's sympathetic, and slightly damp, shoulder.

Seeing her mother laid low had shaken Ginny to her core. Molly Weasley was the foundation that the Weasley clan had built their lives on. She was an impenetrable fortress, standing firm as the waves of life beat themselves to death on her ramparts.

Now, she was a castle under siege, walls torn down and the gates were breached.

Their foundation had shifted. Fred's death had torn Ginny's heart in two. Her mother's breakdown was turning her world upside down.

Hermione wouldn't be surprised if she had a few more teapot meltdowns.

Once Ginny's tears had run their course, Hermione took the opportunity to look around the house. Breakfast dishes littered the kitchen. Dust covered the shelves on the walls. Soot stained the rug next to the fireplace. Gnomes ran amok in the garden. Washing baskets were overflowing with dirty laundry.

It was a far cry from the Burrow's glory days. Survival had been more of a priority then housework during the war time.

Hermione took a deep breath and took an apron off the hook.

'Right. Let's get cleaning.'

That's how Hermione found herself running the Burrow. Once the two girls had the kitchen and sitting room gleaming (as much as carpet and mismatched lounges can gleam), they'd taken lunch up to Molly and left a sandwich on the kitchen table for George. While she was supervising the scrubbing brushes in the hall (an idea she'd got from her favourite Disney movie), Hermione felt a tug on the wards she'd put around it.

'I said you were going to have to come down, George Weasley. I will not be defeated by a simple Summoning Charm.'

There was no reply. Hermione waited. He still wasn't coming down. She felt another tug on her wards. She grinned and called up the stairs.

'It's leviOsa. Honestly, you're as bad as Ronald.'

'That's cold, Hermione. Nobody's as bad as Ron.' Ginny grinned as she poked fun at her absent brother.