I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters in this story. I merely play around with them a little. Unbeta'd so any and all errors are entirely mine.
Whiskey Lullaby
The week had gone by surprisingly quickly. Hermione and Parker spent their time talking about trivial things, like how her tremors were affecting her; if she wishes they would stop soon, normal stuff that therapist and patient would never discuss.
Hermione spent the weekend holed up in her room. She had a short session with Parker on Saturday, but not on Sunday. He needs time off too, right?
Going through her normal routine this morning again, Hermione found herself escorted to Parker's office as usual. This morning though, Parker barely even acknowledges her existence, instead opting to write in a thick black notebook.
Hermione wanders over to the wall opposite Parker's chair. A long coffee table is propped up against the wall, a mountain of psychology magazines building a tower to the heavens on top of the fragile looking glass.
They remain silent for a long time, before Parker suddenly speaks.
"Tell me about Viktor." Hermione snaps her head up from the coffee table where she's been studying the psychology magazines for over a half hour now.
"Why?" Hermione suddenly feels defensive, like Parker only wants to know every deepest darkest secret about her, so he can laugh about her issues with his colleagues. Hermione knows she's being paranoid, but silliness and pure terror about the subject has welded her jaws together.
"Because it all started with him, didn't it Hermione?" Parker has a notebook in his lap. He's been writing in it nonstop, something that scares Hermione even more. Whatever he writes will determine if she gets out of here in three months.
The last week has gone by surprisingly quickly, because of this exact reason. They didnt discuss anything of this sort, opting mostly to stay away from touchy subjects. Hermione prides herself with the idea that she only woke the entire floor up two or three times. The nurses wanted to give her a sedative, but she refused. So instead they tied her down on the bed and made someone sit with her for the rest of the night. She's thrown up everything she's eaten this week. Sometimes it would play hide and seek and she would be fine the whole day, and like a thief in the night, it would jump out of nowhere. More than once the nurses pushed her into the shower to wash the dried vomit from her hair.
"I don't want to talk about him." Hermione says bitterly, turning from the coffee table and magazines.
"Is it because of what he made you do?" Hermione stops mid stride. She wants to stand by the window, stare out onto the beautiful green grass they still have, while tuning out Parker's voice, but instead she sinks down on the sofa.
"I've seen the reports Hermione." Parker adds in a quiet voice, more of a whisper. It's like he's afraid she'll break apart like a glass figurine embracing the floor.
"You don't know anything about me or Viktor." Hermione suddenly says, wiping away at angry tears that spring to her eyes at the mere mention of Viktor.
"You're right, I don't. Tell me then." Parker is pushy today, like he wants to see what Hermione has hidden away within herself.
"Do you want to know about us or the report?" Hermione grits her teeth at the amount of contempt in her voice.
"Which would you prefer sharing?" The illusion Parker creates of choice is astounding. Hermione knows she has to tell him about everything some time or other, but she doesn't want to. Viktor wasn't all bad, not like people made him out to be.
"We got into an argument. Our dealer was at the apartment and Viktor couldn't pay him. We had the money; I just don't know what he did with it. Tom said if Viktor didn't pay him, he'd break his legs, so Viktor devised another plan." Hermione trails off, absentmindedly running her hand over her cheek. Her fingers brush the scar over her temple.
"Viktor suggested that Tom should have sex with me to pay off what we still owed for the drugs. I got mad and said that I'm not a whore, so Viktor hit me. I hit my head against the wall. It's where the scar comes from. Luckily Tom pulled Viktor away and knocked him out, before taking me to the hospital." Hermione lets out a pitiful laugh.
"Funny how your dealer takes you to get stitched up, huh?" Hermione hates how pitiful she sounds. Parker doesn't look up from his notebook. He's still scribbling nonstop.
"What happened?" Parker asks.
"Tom took me to the hospital and got me stitched up. The hospital is forced to take a report any violence like that, especially if it looks like domestic abuse. I lied, told them I got mugged and that Tom helped me out." Hermione shrugs as if none of it even matters.
"And Viktor?" Parker sounds just as nonchalant as Hermione feels about the entire situation.
"When I got home he was on the sofa, a bag of carrots on his face. We didn't talk at all. The next day he said he was sorry and it was the end of it."
"Was it the first time he wanted you to trade sexual favours for drugs?" Parker finally looks up. There's something in the way he talks that gives Hermione goosebumps, the way her father used to when she knew he was on the verge of scolding her.
"Yes. And before you feel the need to ask, it was the first and last time." Hermione feels only slightly guilty lying to Parker. He doesn't need to know that Viktor planned on making her whore herself out when his family cut him off. They'd found out about the drugs and they cut him off. They figured that leaving him penniless would make Viktor see the error in his ways and get help.
It had the opposite effect. Viktor became agitated, hitting her more than once. Hermione supposes it's what she deserves for believing the age old lie of "I won't do it again..." He did it so many times that Hermione is surprised that she's still breathing. It isn't something that she likes thinking about. Hermione prefers remembering the Viktor she first met, the one who was full of compliments and teasing hugs or stolen kisses. The way she used to remember Ron.
No.
"What made you leave then?" Parker challenges, like he knows she's lying.
"I got tired. I already told you." Hermione stares down at her hands, scared that if she looks up that Parker will give her that look her father and Ron had in common, the one that says "I know you're lying to me..."
"I know. Tell me again." Parker says.
"I don't want to be another statistic. I don't want to throw my life away..."
"Why are you lying, Hermione?" Parker says immediately after Hermione closes her mouth.
She feels like she's stuck. Parker knows she's lying. She doesn't want to tell him the truth. It hurts too much.
"I'm not lying." She half-heartedly defends.
"See, I think you are. When a person lies, there is this sense of 'please believe me' that lingers around a person. I know you're lying, because you have the same tell. You see, I think that Viktor wanted you to sell your body so that the money could be used to buy drugs. Am I wrong, Hermione?"
"You're insane!" Hermione says loudly.
"Then tell me why you left." Parker doesn't let up. Tears are springing to her eyes again.
"BECAUSE I'M NOT A WHORE! I DON'T WANT THE POLICE CALLING MY PARENTS AND TELL THEM THAT I HAD MY THROAT SLIT OR OVERDOSED WHILE SELLING MY ARSE TO THE MAN WITH THE MOST MONEY!" Hermione has no idea what has just come over her. She has never in her life yelled at someone like this, well, she did yell at Ron a lot.
The tears started to run freely. Hermione can't stop them even if she tried. Somehow, without noticing, she'd gotten to her feet and was standing over Parker while screaming at him. She sat back down on the sofa, bushy hair falling over her face as she cries into her knees. Parker doesn't get up to comfort her this time. She needs to cry by herself, to be alone and wallow in her own sorrow.
Viktor had been quiet since Tom had taken her to the hospital. They barely talked for over a week. He'd gotten the call from his father about his trust fund, which he was being cut off of, until he got his act together. They still had some cash on them when the call was answered, so for a week and a little bit, they were okay. Until the dope ran out.
Viktor still beat the shit out of her every now and then, so when the suggestion of prostitution came about, Hermione wasn't as shocked as she should have been. She knew it was coming. Neither of them had jobs, the drugs having taken over their lives entirely. There was no time to work. The urge would be too strong and resisting temptation was basically impossible.
She left three days later and came here. Parker would never understand. It is too soon, the wound is still open. The bleeding has only just stopped, so poking and prodding at the still painful emotions is not helping her. Their sessions will most likely become nonexistent because talking hurts too much. Everything with Viktor is at the forefront of her mind, the thoughts of seeing Ron still mad at her is there. The hate Viktor had for Ron and her love for him, the love that never seemed to go away like she had hoped it would.
"Nothing is ever as it seems Hermione." Parker says, pulling her from her thoughts.
"It never is and it never will be. You don't know me, and you never will." Hermione bites back. "Just because it is apparent that my ex-boyfriend hurt me, abused me and had me strung up on him and drugs like my life depended on it, doesn't mean you know me."
"I never said I know you. I want to know what happened to you so that I can help you. That's all. I can't help you if you don't let me." Parker says. After a few minutes of silence, he clears his throat. The little light on the wall signalling the duration of the session has gone off. Their session is over. The nurse is outside, waiting for her.
"Don't protect what isn't good for you Hermione." Parker says, rising from his chair. His notebook is closed, his black pen on top of it. The door opens and a nameless nurse enters. She seems annoyed that she should be waiting for a drug head. Most nurses in this place seem like right proper bitches.
"I'm not protecting anyone but myself." Hermione says as she stands, walking out of the door with the nurse behind her. It's like they're terrified of leaving her alone, as if she is going to pull heroine from somewhere, lock herself in a bathroom and shoot up with whatever is at hand.
If she was a nurse here, she wouldn't trust herself either. She'd be on the inmates (Hermione has come to the conclusion that they really aren't patients at all, but in fact they are inmates waiting to be slaughtered) like a hawk on a fresh carcass. It makes sense, doesn't it?
The nurse is leading her down the corridor to her room. She has a hand on her arm, leading Hermione to where she wants her to go. The nurse doesn't speak, just pushes and pulls Hermione where she needs to go. Hermione doesn't really mind though. She'd get lost in this place. Her mind is everywhere but here right now.
Viktor was her sunlight, her life. The second love of her life, what some people would call her great love. He was good to her. He was bad to her. For every punch, slap, scar, cut, bruise, the drugs, the near prostitution, there had been hugs and kisses and candlelight dinners, sweet nights spent in the dorms back at University, you name it.
Some people really do think that the good always outweighs the bad. That's the way Hermione used to be. A silver lining kind of girl. Somehow the bad had gotten too much with Viktor and she lost sight of why they were together. The drugs had taken all of it away from her, from him, from their friends and families.
Hermione rubs her arms, feeling suddenly cold. She spots the snippy little nurse Brown, a venomous sneer sent her way. This girl seems to hate Hermione for some or other reason. Hermione can't bring herself to care. The pain is too much right now; her veins are burning like someone set fire to her.
Ginny told her this morning that she should always look at the silver lining, something she learnt from Hermione. Right now though, the silver lining is pretty much invisible. She needs that silver lining she used to believe in, she needs it so much right now.
:::
Ron likes to think of himself as a respectable young man. Granted, he is quite rude most of the time, but that just adds to his charm. Or so he's been told.
Somehow Lavender has gotten hold of his mobile number and has been ringing him constantly. The texts were strange, but they've gotten a tad worse. Well, not exactly a tad, more like alien invasion worse.
She's gone from 'thanks for the best sex of my life' to dirty pictures. Not the same old expected flash of a breast, no. This insane woman seems intent on either killing Ron with shame or making him want to throttle her right where she stands, whether it be at her apartment or in front of Ginny at the clinic. Ginny would be mad at him, but once she could visit him in prison, she'd forgive him again. The array of dirty, fleshy pictures are erased within seconds of receiving them. There is no way Ron wants anything to do with Lavender. It was a mistake, a drunken one. Now all Ron needs to do is tell her that, after he avoids her for a little while.
Ron told Lupin about Lavender and the insanity she's been inflicting on him. Lupin just laughed, and laughed and laughed some more. Ron seriously thinks the pale old man was going to keel over.
He shook his head and grinned at Ron. No words were exchanged. Not like Ron needed anyone else to tell him that what he did was idiotic. Which is why he's been avoiding Harry too for little under a week.
Ron spent his time going to the gym, talking to Lupin, avoiding Harry and occasionally avoiding Ginny. He knows he has to talk to them eventually, but right now, he just prefers being alone, revelling in the idea of spending time by himself so that he can sort out his jumbled mind.
It worked wonderfully, until this morning. Until Snape called. He wants to see Ron at 11:30 in his office.
The hatred Ron has for Snape is so large, that he'd be able to write a million books about it. Snape is Ron's platoon Commander. Since the start of his military career, Ron has been serving under Snape.
The man is a bloodhound. Sure, he's good at what he does, but that doesn't mean he's anything close to a decent human being. The man is the devil reincarnated. Every single one of his soldiers hate him. They respect him, but they hate him just as equally.
Three minutes and fifteen seconds after receiving the dreaded call, Ron snuck out of his room for a shower and breakfast, retreating back to his room to pull his uniform on. The possibility that Harry might be at home is too great a risk for Ron to bear.
Running a hand over his head, Ron muses that he needs a haircut. Snape is going to ream him about his longer than usual hair, but it isn't like he'd known that Snape wants to see him
Speak of the devil and he slams his office door behind him like there is a hellhound on his tail. Ron snaps around, immediately saluting Snape. Satan himself just nods.
"Sit down, Weasley." His voice sounds like oil filling up a person's throat, killing them slowly with the nasal sound. Ron complies and sits down. His back is ramrod stiff and his arms are folded in his lap.
"I have been informed that you are refusing to see a psychologist." Snape states, flicking through a file on his desk.
"Yes sir." Ron doesn't exactly know what to say to Snape. The reason behind this entire meeting is confusing as hell. Snape hates him and tells him that quite often. Ron highly doubts that this is a social call.
"You are not given a choice Weasley. It is an order. You will undergo your mandatory psychiatric evaluation before I let you near my platoon or a weapon." Snape still hasn't looked up. He's still flipping through that damn file. Ron wants to jump up and slam Snape's head into the table. A bit violent, but that's just the sort of reaction Snape pulls out of Ron and every other soldier under his direct command.
"In total fairness, sir, I do not need to see a psychiatrist." At this though, Snape slams the file shut. Ron doesn't flinch.
"Do not try this pigs dung with me Weasley. Your convoy was blown up. You nearly lost your arm trying to save three men. How the brass up top still want you around, I will never know, but without proper help you are a liability to yourself and everyone around you." Snape's black beady little eyes are staring at him.
Ron hates to admit it, but the devil child has a point. The possibility of losing his mind is right there with him. The nightmares are a constant reminder of what happened to him. Their faces are seared into his brain.
The thought of leaving the military flashes across his mind. He could go see his mum and dad. Mum would make pumpkin pie for him and they could talk about the years they've lost.
Just as suddenly as the thought appears, Ron yanks it from his mind.
No.
"Yes sir. I will report for my mandatory session first thing in the morning." Ron says automatically.
He has no desire to crush his career. Then he'll have nothing left, nothing of Fred or of himself to cling to anymore. He'll be lost, completely and utterly lost. His career is the only thing that keeps him sane, apart from the memories that drive him insane.
"Dismissed." Snape practically growls. Ron nods, stands and walks from the office, down the hall to find the local loony doctor. He makes an appointment and leaves the base as quickly as possible.
Ron drives back to the apartment and changes into his civvies. He needs to talk to Lupin. Lupin will know what to do, right? The thought that keeps running through his mind is what if Lupin doesn't know what to do? What does Ron do when the man of few words can't tell him what he needs to hear, that he's not insane and that seeing a shrink is a stupid idea?
When Ron gets to the gym, Lupin is sitting on one of those metal fold out chairs beside the boxing ring. Two men are beating the living daylights out of each other. Lupin watches them with what Ron can only explain as morbid fascination, almost as if the idea of inflicting mindless violence onto someone else disgusts him to the core.
Lupin points to the chair next to him and Ron sinks down onto it. His mind is in a daze.
"Snape told me to see a shrink or I won't be let back in." Ron blurts out. "He says I'm a liability."
Lupin doesn't turn from the sad scene playing itself out in front of them. Ron is staring at his feet, every few seconds glancing up at the spectacle in the ring.
"Are you?" Lupin asks, cocking his head to the side.
"No of course not!" Ron says in a huff.
"What about the anxiety? The explosive emotions and the nightmares?" Ron turns and stares at Lupin. He sure as hell did not tell him anything about his near panic attacks or nightmares. Lupin already knows about the temper explosions because Ron freaked out on him just last week.
"You're not the only one Ron. PTSD is common amongst soldiers who go through traumatic experiences." A little bit of blood hits the floor of the ring. It spurs the two boxers on, beating one another even harder.
Ron knows he's not the only one suffering through this, but how do you talk about it? He's a military man. He doesn't break down and talk about his emotions. He grits his teeth and suffers through them, like he's supposed to.
"You need help Ron. You can't do this alone." Lupin says, finally turning and looking at Ron.
"Am I really a liability?" Lupin sighs and looks back at the ring. The two men inside it are panting and bloody.
"The question you should rather be asking yourself, is how can you fix it when you don't know what is broken?" Ron stares at Lupin, feeling suddenly like an idiot.
"You wouldn't have come to see me if there wasn't something bothering you Ron. It may be your family situation, your mind or your career, but something is definitely wrong. Playing possum and pretending it doesn't exist doesn't make it go away. Trust me, I've been there."
Ron feels astounded that Lupin has spoken so many words. Words that make sense at that too.
"We're not taught to suffer from anything. We're strong, ruthless. How can I be that man and be told that I need to share my feelings with someone?" Ron can feel his ears start to turn pink.
"That's the way life works. You don't talk about your emotions and your wife or girlfriend gets angry, but your boss is happy. When you need to talk about it, people need to make sure that you're sane enough before they invest anything in you." Lupin replies.
"There's nothing wrong with me." Ron huffs.
"I know that, but they don't. You can hide it for as long as you want, but at some time or another it is going to come out and then you'll lose a whole lot more than just your career."
Ron feels himself nod. There really isn't anything he can say to that.
"I've made an appointment for tomorrow morning."
"I know." Ron can see Lupin smile slightly.
"You do?"
"I've still got those friends, remember?"
"But I made it less than twenty minutes ago." Ron says, astonishment bleeding into his tone.
"I know that too." Lupin cracks a wider smile, causing Ron to laugh.
The feeling of someone caring had been taken from him long ago. It feels nice to know that someone cares, granted it is someone Ron doesn't really know, but it's still someone.
:::
AN: We've finally reached chapter ten! Something you guys never imagined, right? Yeah, makes two of us. I really do hope you guys like this chapter, a little mixture of Ron and Hermione's POV.
Both Ron and Hermione are making a little progress in realising that they need help. Sometimes it is easy to think you can do everything alone, but they need help with this, right?
Leave me some love. I know you're reading! Can we make it to 65 reviews for this one? It'll make me update faster!
I'm the queen of constant updates right now :P
-Dedicated to:
*grace083
*gurrumaiss
*my little Burrito
*smilelino
*Liz