Disclaimer: I am a poor person, if I owned any of these characters I would be a rich person ;P. So this story is basically a story about how Hermione thinks of her depression, how she pictures it.
He sneaks up on you, sneaking his way into my mind; making sure you never know its there until he has numbed you. And suddenly he's all that's there, and you can't feel or breathe or think. And there's no way out, only you and him and he seems fifty feet tall and there is nothing you can do except sit there. Breathe.
You follow him with your eyes as he makes everyone else slowly disappear until there's no one left but you and him. He's there. Inside of you like a parasite; draining everything; sucking the life out of you, until it becomes hard to breathe, hard to think, hard to feel.
You fight him. And you act as if nothings wrong on the outside and inside you are screaming at him for doing this to you and you are losing and you can't stop him.
After fighting him, you are exhausted and are too tired to do anything but sleep, hoping that will numb it so the pain and despair leave.
He is fifty feet tall, and there is nothing you can do.
He has broken me.
He is my Depression.