Disclaimer: I Do Not Own Harry Potter.

Written for the Tri-Wizard Tournament.

They keep thinking she'll just snap out of it, that she'll wake-up one day and be how she used to be.

She'd tried at the beginning to act like nothing was wrong with her and for a while she fooled everyone into thinking she was.

But the grip of depression became tighter, the chains of anxiety wrapped around her almost like a cocoon until it became exhausting and impossible to fool anyone anymore.

On her worst days she sleeps and when she can't sleep anymore Hermione lays there listening to clock ticking.

On an average day she'll get up, get dressed and eat at least one meal a day maybe have a panic attack before the day was through.

The only time the average day routine changes is when they give her new medication to try so sure that, that one will improve the way she feels.

There was the one that sent her into a flying rage over the tiniest thing, the one that had made come out in a terrible rash and several others that either just didn't work or had similar side-effects; her favorite one though had been the one that left her emotionally numb, she wasn't her old self but at least she could function.

But apparently being numb and able to function for the first time in months wasn't healthy or a long time solution to be able to cope.

Hermione hadn't cared whether it was healthy or a long term coping method it led to her being able not to cry for no reason, the crippling sadness went away and exhaustion of it all went way.


They say in time things will get better, but if time is broken?.

When she thinks of time the first image that pops into her into her is the painting by Salvador DalĂ­ where the clocks are melted; that's what time is for her, melted.

Time melted into average days and worst days, days where her mind goes so fast she'll think it separate from her body and fly away then days where her mind is exhausted and slow.

Her life whizzing past so fast that she can't catch it or stop it.

Time has melted, twisted, blurred and became something she no longer recognises.


They ask her how she feels and she never knows what to say.

There are too many feelings to identify one, sadness, anger, anxiety, tiredness and others she doesn't know how to name.

It feels strange not to how she truly feels from moment to the next, if she doesn't know how can anyone else.

How can she explain that this isn't something that will just go away no matter how much she wishes it would.

Sometimes she wishes she could tap someone on the shoulder and pass this on to them, have the chains shatter then she feels guilty because she knows what terrible thing she going through and how can she wish it on someone else.


They say they want to help so she lets them because she doesn't have the energy or will to battle with anyone.

She lets them tell her it'll be okay, lets them try to understand and try to fix her until the chains shatter and she's free she needs them.

Needs them to be the thing she leans on, the thing she clutches too when she can't even understand whats wrong inside her mind.

While the chains still hold she doesn't truly appreciates the things they do, but when they shatter she will.