Chapter 2
Chapter 2
At the ripe age of twenty-seven, Hermione was proud of many personal accomplishments. After the war, she had seen a mind healer for a bit but very soon realized that the wizarding world was not the right place for the kind of healing she needed. It was too small and she was known by all of wizarding Britain. The anxiety over having her sessions leaked to the papers was overwhelming enough that she stopped going. They hadn’t been leaked of course, and truth be told, she hadn’t shared anything in those first few sessions that would be newsworthy or even new information to the wizarding world. Hermione could now admit how that mind healer had seen this and tried to give her advice.
Flashback
“Miss Granger,” She’d said at one session, “I wonder if a mind healer out of Britain would be of more help. It seems to me you might be more comfortable with someone not as close to the war. Your fears of The Quibbler or some such paper of that sort somehow being privy to what we talk about in these sessions might be negated as well.”
Anger and shame had boiled inside Hermione at the time. Anger at the confirmation that her healer didn’t want her as a client, and shame for still chasing the validation she so craved from authority figures in the magical world. And then more shame for craving that validation in the first place. Then anger again because couldn’t this stupid mind healer see that she needed help and just help her already? Hadn’t Hermione been through enough?
She hadn’t gone back to that mind healer after that. Gritting her teeth and forging ahead, she knew she had a bright future ahead, and if she just focused on that she would be fine.
She was in fact, not fine.
It turned out when you had the kind of drive and ambition Hermione had, and you mixed it with the bureaucracy and tediousness of working in government, coupled with a smidge of unresolved issues and an institution that had few personnel, and funds, and was recovering from war. Well…. She’d opened her eyes one day and realized she was in St. Mungos. Having overworked herself to the point of passing out.
Harry and Ron were there when she woke up and had been making sure she was taken good care of.
At one point her nurse had come to check in on her. “How are you feeling dear?” She had asked as she wordlessly cast the diagnostic spell. Harry and Ron had moved out of the way to let the nurse do her job, still keeping a close eye on their friend.
“I’m feeling absolutely fine!” Hermione had said. “I can be discharged.”
The nurse, taken aback had asked why Hermione would want to be discharged so soon after waking up. Hermione explained how there were probably, surely, other people, with more serious cases than hers who needed the bed or the very least, the room.
Ron and Harry had exchanged a look at that point, that Hermione didn't see. Not saying a word but understanding each other all the same.
“I will ask your healer if you’re okay to go if it’s what you want Miss Granger.” The nurse had said. “You’ll have to be discharged into someone's care for the first 48 hours. You can’t be left alone in case it happens again.”
Hermione had signed her discharge papers and collected her things, looking forward to spending time with Ron and Harry. She hadn't seen them in...hmm it'd been a while..
She’d gone to Grimmauld with Harry and Ron, lost in her thoughts, wholly unprepared for the confrontation that was about to take place.