2 a.m Coffee

Hermione sat in the empty kitchen, staring at her cup of coffee. It was 2:16 in the morning, and she knew that she should be asleep, but sleep just wouldn't come. It hadn't come easily for awhile now. So she sat in the kitchen of Number 12 Grimmauld Place, sipping her coffee and waiting for the unusually long Order meeting upstairs to end so she could slip into the library and read until morning.

Just then, the door opened and Hermione looked up. She saw a long, red ponytail as the entrant turned to close the door. Bill walked into the room quietly, looking in surprise at the coffee pot on the stove that was spreading its wonderful aroma throughout the kitchen. He obviously did not see Hermione in the shadows.

"It's fresh, if you want some," she said, and Bill jumped, turning in the direction of the voice to face the 16 year-old girl seated at the table in the corner of the kitchen.

"Hermione? What are you doing up so late?"

"I couldn't sleep. I was going to get some work done, but all my books and things are in the library, and I couldn't interrupt the meeting, could I?" Hermione's voice was polite, and much smaller than Bill was used to hearing it.

"Get some work done? From what I hear, all you do lately is work."

"Really? And who do you hear this from?" Hermione asked, raising her coffee mug to her lips. Bill wondered what to tell her; he wasn't sure how well it would go over if he said that he'd heard from everyone in the house (except for Harry, who was overworking himself as well) how Hermione had more or less moved from library to kitchen to bed for the greater part of the summer.

"Well, mum for one," he finally answered, walking over to the counter to pour himself a cup of coffee.

"I love your mother, but sometimes she does worry too much. And be careful how much of that you drink; I made it strong, you won't be able to sleep for awhile."

"Good. I've got a million things I need to do before work this morning, falling asleep in the middle of them wouldn't be good."

"What sort of things?" Hermione asked, curious. From the way Bill froze for a second on his way to the table, she could guess the answer. "Oh, Order business."

"Some of it," Bill conceded as he sat down. "And some of it's Gringott's business. I've got a presentation on some treasures from Syria that I'm not quite done with."

"When do you present it?"

"10:00 a.m. today."

Hermione smiled. "You're as bad as Ron. Is procrastination a Weasley trait?"

"I haven't been procrastinating. I've just been busy is all."

"Of course, of course. With Order business and your myriad romances, I can see how work could get put off." Hermione's tone was light and her expression was suspiciously like a smirk.

"Myriad romances? Where'd that come from?"

"The walls have ears, you know." As Bill was still looking at her expectantly, Hermione continued. "I was talking to Ginny as she mentioned how your mother was complaining about how she 'just couldn't keep up with' your love life and how she's afraid you'll 'never settle down with a nice girl'." Hermione took another sip of her coffee, then continued. "So I take her worries to mean that you and Fleur are off again?" She was speaking of Bill's tempestuous relationship with Fleur Delacour.

"For the time being. But it's not as bad as all that, I've only dated one other girl since Fleur and I decided to cool it down. Listening to mum, you'd think I was the wizarding world's answer to Casanova." Bill shook his head and sipped his coffee.

"Oh Bill, she just worries about you. It keeps her grounded. Pestering you about your hair and your girlfriends is her way of keeping life normal."

"I suppose. Lord knows we could use a bit of normalcy around here."

"Yes, we could," Hermione agreed. At that moment, Bill was struck by how old she looked. He knew she was 16, a little bit younger than his baby brother, but at that moment she looked not like a teenage girl, but like a woman with the weight of the world on her shoulders. And in a way, Bill supposed she was.

"Hermione, you should get some sleep," Bill said, looking her in the eye. "It's late and everyone says you've been working yourself too hard. I mean this in the nicest way possible, but you look a mess."

Hermione laughed quietly. "Yes, I suppose I do, don't I? But it's no use trying to sleep; I slipped a little bit of Mind-Wakening Potion into the coffee. I'll be awake for at least another 6 hours."

"You sound like you've done this before."

Hermione looked at her coffee cup. "I have. Not too often, that would be detrimental to my health, but on mornings like this it's just what I need."

"I could neutralize the potion. You really do need to get some sleep."

"What are you now, my father?" Hermione asked, voice still pleasant. "I'm a big girl, Bill, I can take care of myself."

"You haven't been."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you've been working yourself to the bone all summer. It means that here it is, the sunniest month of the year, and you're pale as a ghost because the only sunshine you've seen lately is what filters in through the library windows."

Hermione spluttered, indignant. "I'm doing all of that for the Order!"

"And we appreciate it, and we need it, but you still need to take care of yourself. Hell, even Dumbledore takes a break every now and then!"

"Well lucky him, but I can't afford that luxury."

"What on earth do you mean by that?"

"I mean that I can't rest. I can't stop working. I've been researching and doing tactical evaluations on Voldemort and his followers for a year now, and I've been studying Defense Against the Dark Arts, hell, I've been studying the Dark Arts themselves, and I can't stop! Because it's never enough. At the end of the day, I still have to see my best friend go into his room, exhausted, and I still have to know that the world is on his shoulders, and no one can take that burden away from him. So I work and I study and I research and I find out as much as I can to make it easier for him, I do as much to help him as I can. Because he almost never tells me when he's worried anymore, which just means that the worries are so big that he doesn't want to scare me, but that doesn't help because I'm afraid anyway, I'm afraid for him. He shouldn't have to do all of this; he shouldn't have to worry about all of this, for crying out loud, he's not even seventeen yet!" Hermione had jumped up from the table in the middle of her rant and had proceeded to pace. Bill stood up and stopped her, putting his hands on her shoulders. He realised that she was shaking.

"Hermione," he said, grip on her shoulders firm. "You're only sixteen. You're just as young as Harry is; you shouldn't be worrying about all of this either. It's too much for you. Let others take some of the burden; that's what we're here for. That's why you have the Order. More importantly, that's why you have friends."

"Friends?" Hermione chuckled mirthlessly. "What kind of friend would I be if I chucked this off on anyone? What kind of friend would I be to shove all this on someone else?"

"That's the beauty of it; you don't have to," Bill said calmly. "Friends take the burden willingly. You took it for Harry; let someone take it for you. You're too young to be worrying about all of this."

"Too young?" Hermione repeated, stepping back from Bill slightly. "Bill, I may only be sixteen, and that may seem very young to you, but believe me when I say that I haven't been truly young for a while now. I gave up my youth for this war." Hermione sighed. "Wasn't exactly a fair trade, was it?"

Bill shook his head slightly. "No it wasn't. But your youth's not all gone yet, Hermione. You've got years to enjoy being young."

Hermione looked up at him sadly. "I'm not sure I remember how." Bill stepped forward and hugged her, feeling empathy for this young girl who was giving up so much of herself in the fight for the good.

"You'll learn," he whispered into her ear, and that did it for her. Hermione cried, releasing all of the tears that she hadn't let herself shed until now, while Bill rubbed her back and murmured soothingly into her ear.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me," Hermione said a few long moments later, extricating herself from Bill's grasp and wiping the tears from her eyes.

"It's quite alright," he said, stepping back as well.

"No, it's not. I'm not usually this emotion-" Hermione's sentence was broken off by a huge yawn. "Excuse me."

"Like I said, it's quite alright," Bill repeated, smiling slightly. Hermione looked at him suspiciously.

"You neutralized my Mind-Wakening Potion, didn't you?" she asked.

"Maybe a little." Standing there like that, with his hands in his pockets and a small grin on his face, he looked so much younger; more like he was her age instead of nine years her senior.

"I'd be mad at you if I wasn't so incredibly embarrassed and so incredibly tired."

"Why do I get the feeling that you'll pay me back for this later?"

"Because I will." Hermione's threatening glare was ruined by her huge and unladylike yawn. "I just have to get some sleep first."

Bill smiled wider. "Go do that, then. Good night, Hermione."

"Good night, Bill." Hermione started out the door, then turned to face him. "Bill?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for listening to me rant like a madwoman."

Bill laughed. "Anytime, Hermione, anytime. Goodnight."

"Goodnight." Hermione walked out the door and left Bill alone in the kitchen. He shook his head and thought about what an extraordinary young woman Hermione was as he sat down to finish his coffee.