Here's my newest work that took up my time from the ongoing projects. This is a Halloween Special horror work. So please be ready for some gory details, indiscriminate killings, and chaos. This work could not be done without the biggest inspiration from Shuvam who actually motivated this work to be written and Puja who loved the idea and motivated me and edited this for me. Also my thanks to Nautical Paramour and WinchesterGranger for their enthusiasm. This work will be little behind its update schedule as some background research and necessary random crazy thoughts are very much needed.

Now, on with the story! Hope you enjoy it and don't forget to leave behind a review if you feel like.

18/03/17- This is the latest edited chapter. Beta love to Scarlet Dewdrops. Newest chapter under editing.

Prologue

7 months ago

A man in his early fifties, wearing uniform white robes emblazoned with a wand crossed with a bone emblem, leaned forward and asked his patient, "Why did you not come sooner for counselling?" Jonathan Satling had been the head Mind Healer of the psychological department of St. Mungo's for more than five years, but he was yet to see a more complex person than the one sitting before him. He knew about Hermione Granger the same way everybody else knew about her; tabloids and an unauthorised biography written by Rita Skeeter, which was released recently. But the person sitting before him, wearing plain blue jeans and even plainer faded red top, was nothing as described in the sources. The moment she entered his office the first thing she did was scan the room with a critical eye with a tensed right hand, presumably the wand hand. Then with a murmured greeting, she took her seat in front of him saying nothing more until he asked her why she was here. Her automated answer of "For a counselling session, as stated in the appointment." did nothing to quell the slowly growing unease in his stomach at her continued presence.

She was a physically healthy, beautiful and accomplished young woman in her late-twenties. According to Daily Prophet, she had amassed a total of over 3.5 million galleons in her Gringotts vault between the lucrative endeavours of the split bounty on He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, the Order of Merlin- Third Class, and her cutthroat law firm that was now lobbying for the rights of magical creatures. Her life was King-size on paper but the person, who still hadn't answered his question yet, had eyes that sparkled with malicious intent even as the sharp mind behind them barely kept itself from falling into the abyss of insanity.

He wondered how long that sorrow could hold her back from giving into insanity. From his guess, not long. It might even push her further off the edge. Merlin, Morgana and Mordred help this witch regain herself again. The world will go to hell in a handbasket if she becomes the next Bellatrix Lestrange. She should have been counselled right after the battle. After all, she was only eighteen when she had endured the Cruciatus for almost an hour. Poor, poor girl. Merlin, give me the strength to help her.

So lost in his thoughts was Jonathan, that he didn't realise Hermione still hadn't answered yet.

Hermione obviously didn't reply immediately. There was a time when she really did try and answered all the questions posed to her, but now it just seemed like a chore to open her mouth, tire her tongue and throat to find the most polite way to let someone down. Experience has taught her that explaining something to someone with an IQ less than 100 is nothing but a waste of the time spent speaking. Yet, cumbersome social etiquette suggested that she answer the man before her. Unfortunately, he was so busy with pitying her that he missed the snarl forming on her face. As soon as he paid her attention, she smoothed her face to a mask of polite indifference.

Hermione pursed her lips as her eyes flickered from one calming painting to another. Not bothering to look at the boring man, she knew he'd be no help as soon as she saw his first real reaction to her. The art was infinitely more interesting, but with a petulant sigh she went along with the game and answered his query. "Well… I didn't want to come. An old mentor requested that I attend a session."

"So, you haven't ever felt the need for counselling? A mental healing?" the Healer asked with a frown tugging at the corners of his lips.

Hermione couldn't keep the scowl off her face as she answered sharply, "I have a law firm to run, Mr Satling. I do not have the time to coddle myself with fanciful 'mind healing'." Her contempt showing clearly as she said those last two words with a fanciful wave of her hands.

"Have you never taken mind healing after suffering a Crucio?" he asked in the softest manner.

Hermione snapped back rudely, "In how many different ways do I need to tell you no?"

Jonathan gave a nervous laugh and sat back in his chair, "So, would you like to recount to me what your feelings were after the battle was over?"

"Relief." Short, simple, and actually honest.

"And?" When she only shrugged in response, he pressed for further information, "What about a few months after the battle?"

She heaved a put-upon sigh and boredly told him, "Stress. I had to sit for my N.E.W.T.S."

"I really hoped I wouldn't have to beat about the bush. Please, let's cut to the chase. What was your mental state after suffering the Cruciatus? I know the side-effects of the curse do not begin until complete physical health is gained, which is when the curse starts affecting the victim again. I want to know about that." On seeing Hermione's downcast face, he started again, "I really did not mean to be so abrupt, but I know what that curse does. I want to help you. So, please tell me. Talking about the problem is the first step to recovery."

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked in the meekest voice.

"Of course. That is why I am here."

Hermione began speaking, "What they don't understand is that the curse doesn't only recreate the sensation of pain on your nerve tissue, but also it recreates pain in your mind. It is a torture curse for both body and mind. The physical pain I could and did stand. It was the mental pain that was driving me mental. Ironic, eh?"

The pain was terrible, yes, but what terrified me was that during the time I was writhing with pain under that curse was that the mental torture formed in the shape of my most traumatic emotional encounters were brought back to haunt me. Things I thought were forgiven or at the very least forgotten. They were in the past, but all of a sudden I was reliving every horrible moment all over again.

"'No one asked your opinion, you filthy little mudblood.' sneered Draco at a girl of eleven who was oblivious to the ingrained prejudice of this society.

'I see no difference.' said Snape, indifferent to a hexed child's humiliation and pain.

'It's no wonder she hasn't got any friends!' A pride-wounded peacocking Ron scoffed, not knowing she was right behind them. That stab of emptiness, knowing she'd been so excited to meet people like her and maybe… just maybe finally make a friend that didn't get scared off the first time something weird happened around her.

'Sit down, you silly little girl, and don't talk about things you don't understand.' Rita Skeeter told me. Later, she painted me as a scarlet woman. I had laughed it off then, but you can't escape the pain at being slandered in such a public manner."

Hermione scoffed and sarcastically continued, "Oh… who can forget the hate mails? And the one filled with bubotuber pus. And Molly's disdain clearly showed in the gift of a howler that she ever-so-graciously sent me. I would have never believed it had I not seen it myself that a mother of seven children could be so narrow-minded and have such a shrivelled heart. Would it make me a sadist if I confess that I felt my heart get lighter when I saw her cry silent tears when Percy broke off from the family? And the calm I felt on seeing her world fall apart when Fred died. Not that I wanted him to die, but seeing her face… Was it wrong of me to rejoice at her pain? Was justice delivered to that fat broodmare when Ginny was cursed by Bellatrix? Pity…the woman who prided herself on family couldn't even get her wand up to kill Bellatrix when the opportunity of vengeance was provided."

"And the icing on the cake that was my teenage years was my unfailingly supportive friends. My date with a famous Quidditch player was 'fraternising with the enemy'. Me defending my best friend from a gift sent by a suspicious source resulted in a fall out in third year." Hermione frowned in thought and added, "Come to think of it, most of the fallouts between Harry and myself happened because Ron made Harry chose a side during an argument and ten points to anyone who can tell me whose side wasn't chosen." She raised her hand as if she'd been back in the classroom, waving it side to side with a mockery of excited smile pasted on her face.

Her expression smoothed again and she drummed her fingers on the arm of her chair, "Harry always chose Ron over me. In the fourth year when Ron accused Harry of being an attention seeker, I was one supporting Harry. But as soon as he succeeded the first task, Ron was forgiven for the misunderstanding, and all the water was under the bridge. It didn't matter at all that Ron knew about the dragons and didn't bother telling Harry. Ron leaves us and runs away in the middle of the Horcrux hunt, what does he get? Best Man at Harry's wedding. And Hermione, who stuck around through thick and thin, what about her? An invitation four days before the wedding." Hermione's eye twitched slightly as she recalled overhearing Ginny say one day, 'She's just a guest after all.' Just a guest.

Moving on to prevent another snarl distorting her mouth she continued to talk, "When I approached Gringotts for a loan for my firm, I was shown the door because I was a thief and a liar. But Harry and Ron? The Ministry pressured the Goblins to roll out the carpet for them; they are saviours of the Wizarding world."

Injustice? Bigotry? Chauvinism? Definitely. Harry got Order of Merlin, First class. He deserved it. He nearly died killing that bastard. Hell, he did die. Ron got Second Class; he was the faithful friend and ally who never gave up. I got Third Class because silly muggle born girls do not get Order of Merlins of the higher degrees. They're for the true magic user. Ginny again saying 'Thank your lucky stars that you got an Order of Merlin'.

Draco partnered with me for the firm as penance for whatever wrongs he had done me, I suppose. I turned up with him to the Ministry Ball and got labelled as a mudblood whore by Ron. That was fun. Harry stood beside him, his eyes on the floor and face red with embarrassment, arms around his new wife, Ginny Potter. He didn't bother to speak a word in my defense against him.

Past relationships? Well…I was Ron's girlfriend when I was working to build my firm, as we thought we had a moment during the battle. I had planned out a delicate balance of time between my work and our dates, but Ron wanted more and more and I just couldn't dedicate so much time away the firm to that boy in a man's body. So when I chose my work I became the prude, the selfish lover. Hah! As if. My love life was nothing. My work became my husband, lover and admirer. I worked day and night to build it, and with Draco's help we brought it to the position it is now. Draco and I decided to be with each other for a while. No strings attached, you see, so it worked for both of us. He taught me how to be ruthless and never feel bad for wanting something. To be cold yet have an inferno burning inside me. Had it not been for him, I would have probably gone crazy. He helped me from slipping off the edge into incoherency and utter lunacy. I have some semblance of balance now in my life. And I am very happy he got himself a loving pureblooded bride, Astoria. Not that I care if she's a pureblood. His mother surely does, though.

No…no jealousy. I am happy. I could never 100% belong to him. Besides, I really like Astoria. She's fun.

Why in turmoil now? Well… with Draco's upcoming wedding, people have yet again started the sneering and frankly quite repetitive insults and threats, criticizing both me and my work. Then again, another occasion will always turn up and Hermione Granger would be under scrutiny once more. It always comes full circle, and I am tired and pissed off and oh-so-vengeful.

"What do I want? I want to snap. I want to reach my breaking point. I have no going back. I am standing at the cliff. And I just want that one last push. Then I'm free." His patient finished the sentence wistfully and dissolved in a fit of giggles.

Jonathan had never felt such sheer terror since the time when his village had a Dark Mark hovering in the sky. She was an explosion waiting to happen. He simply prayed he was far away - very, very far away - when she exploded. He'd give just about anything for her to leave his office. He would have to immediately call upon the emergency Aurors. As a head, his evaluation of a potential threat would be taken seriously. He hoped that he lived to alert them.

She was conscious of losing herself and she was embracing the oncoming insanity. She knew what was happening, her sharp mind was unscathed by the disturbance but her personality underwent a drastic change right in front of his eyes.

"Do you know I had to use an alias to book an appointment here?" Hermione asked suddenly, "People would have loved this scoop that the law firm owner, mudblood supreme, had to visit a Mind Healer. Think of my-my- hahaha- reputation." She giggled again and put a hand on her chest to steady herself. Her mood changed so quickly he was surprised there wasn't whiplash involved when she asked solemnly, "Does anyone else know I am here?"

He blinked a few times and blurted, "Uh… maybe my assistant." Jonathan hadn't been prepared for the quick change of topic.

"Would you call her in and personally tell her in front me to not disclose my identity?" Hermione asked now sombre.

"Yes, yes sure." He would be glad to have someone else in the room with him for support. Or as a witness.

Hermione had caught the way his left eye twitched when she said she wanted to be free, and noted that his hands shook as he grabbed the Floo powder to make the call.

Looks like it would be the hard way out of here.

Almost immediately, his assistant came in with a phial of calming draught. And to placate Hermione both of them took a seat opposite to her. Personally, Hermione thought that if she were a lesser witch she'd be nervous by them teaming up across from her. But she wasn't a lesser witch; she was Hermione Granger, damn it.

"Look, Hermione. Right now, you need help. And once you calm down, we'll talk about your treatment. Okay?" The doctor was speaking in soothing tones and was acting as if they were trying to calm a cornered wild animal.

Her head tilted to the side slightly as she ruminated over that thought for a moment. 'Maybe that's what I am now. An animal?'

"Sure," Hermione said offhandedly as she stretched out on the couch comfortably.

As soon as they relaxed and let down their defences, she whipped her wand out and rapidly shot two Stupefy before they could get their own wands out.

Despite the fact they were stunned and couldn't actually hear, she ranted at them, "Listen, my firm is my baby. I wouldn't let you hurt it, would I? I am not stupid. Second, it did fucking nothing talking about my problem. Absolutely bloody nothing. First step, my ass. Third, you are a lousy Mind Healer for me but I can't kill you. Yet. It'll be very suspicious and it can be traced back to me. So… Obliviate! Obliviate!"

The door opened but no one came out or got in. It closed on its own again a few moments later.

Jonathan Satling had a very strange day. His assistant took an abrupt leave stating sickness. He knew he'd been alright that morning but he was feeling weirdly nauseous now.

'Must be that damn rare beef roast from the cafeteria. I knew it was undercooked.'

TBC...