Hermione had not eaten a real meal in at least a week. Her cheeks were pale and her hair unkempt. She lay in bed staring at the ceiling counting the texture dots to keep her mind busy. Her body craved sleep;yet her brain would not calm enough for her to find even a few minutes of rest before she was so utterly exhausted that she could not physically keep her eyes open anymore. She rolled onto her side to look at her mobile, one of the few muggle devices she kept around her home, the screen read a quart after three in the morning. She set the phone down and rolled back onto her pillows, rubbing her eyes, and praying for sleep to come. She knew it would not be long before she needed to get up and go into work. She did not need questions asked about the dark circles under her eyes but she could not bring herself to use a potion to sleep. They left her groggy when she woke up. She needed to feel alert but she could not take this insomnia any longer.
Hermione got out of bed slowly, as she sat her feet on the cold wooden floor she visually searched for her slippers. Spying them she quietly slid her feet into the soft pink shoes. Being careful as to not wake her husband she made her way to the cabinet where her potions were normally stored and found a draught of dreamless sleep. "This should do the trick," she thought.
A few hours later Hermione woke to the sound of her alarm on her phone. She let out a groan while throwing her arm over her eyes. Four hours. That is the longest she had slept in days. Yet it still felt like it had been nothing at all. She went into her adjoining bathroom and stared into the mirror. "Today will be better than yesterday," she whispered to herself. She had to get through this day.
Hermione quickly showered, still not washing her hair. She did not feel she had to energy to do anything more than necessary. "The perks of dark hair," she thought to herself again for the fourth day in a row as she washed the most necessary areas and ignoring the rest. Within five minutes she was stepping over the edge of the tub and grabbing the towel that hung on the rack nearby. She made her way into her bedroom and opened her wardrobe looking for something to wear. Hermione's mother had forced her to do her laundry over the weekend. She was tired of seeing her daughter in the same pair of jeans day after day. She pulled out a simple black pencil skirt, light blue blouse with matching jacket. Finding some clean under garments she slowly got dressed. She decided to leave her legs bare. She could not be bothered with stockings. They simply became an irritation as the day went on and no one would notice anyway she felt.
After getting dressed she made her way back to the bathroom to attempt to do something with her unruly curls. They hadn't been washed or combed in four days and she didn't feel up to combing it again that day. She felt as if simply getting into the shower and getting dressed had taken every ounce of energy she had had when she woke that morning. She found a comb and attempted to comb back the knots the best that she could. Once it looked smooth she pulled her long hair into a tight bun that hid the fact that the only portion of hair that had been combed was at the top and side of her head. She ignored her growling stomach and went to her fireplace to floo to the Ministry to start her work week.
As Hermione exited the fireplace in her office she quickly brushed the soot from her clothes and face. She unlocked the door and stared at the pile of papers and files on her desk feeling the anxiety of the week before building in her neck and shoulders. She knew that she could easily get the tasks at hand finished quickly but she simply lacked the ambition to do so. It was as she was sitting down to her desk that she heard someone knock quietly on her office door.
"Come in," she called. She silently prayed that whoever was knocking would be quick because she was not in the mood to entertain anyone this morning, perhaps after lunch but now she wanted solitude. As she looked up she saw that her visitor was none other than her best friend Ginny. Ginny had an expectant look on her face as she entered her office and she knew what it would be about. She always knew what it was about when Ginny came to her to talk in the mornings. Ginny wore the same look on her face that Hermione had worn for months before she gave up and decided to wallow, drowning in her own self-pity.
Hermione gave Ginny a weak smile and Ginny's facial expression switched from expectant to concerned when she took in Hermione's appearance. "Hermione, what is the matter? You don't look like yourself this morning." Ginny sounded as if her concern was genuine but Hermione was feeling if it was more so out of a sense of obligation. She widened her smile and replied with a simple "I'm fine," and looked back down at the papers in front of her. She heard the chair in front of her pull out and her friend sit down. "Hermione Jean, I know you better than you know yourself. You are my best friend and I was the Maid of Honor at your wedding. I have known you for eleven years. Do not tell me that you are fine. Because you are far from being fine. You have a rat's nest in your hair that you think you are hiding with a bun, your hair is unwashed and your eyes look like you haven't slept in a week. Now, are you going to tell me what in Merlin's name is the matter or will I have to go get Harry to us Legilimency on you?"
Hermione knew that her friend would most definitely employ her husband's skill at Legilimency to read into her mind as she had done it in the past. She let out a heavy sigh and looked at Ginny and decided to let her into her mind on her own.