Work hadn't gone as smoothly as Hermione had hoped. With the combination of sleep deprivation and stress, she was especially on edge. Her lectures were all over the place; with her constantly losing her place or forgetting what she was talking about. But that wasn't the worst part. The worst part of her day happened when a pupil came to ask her a question in between classes. Her back was turned, so he tapped her on her shoulder. This caused her to let out a scream in surprise. Which caused him to scream in surprise. Overall, it was a rotten day, and she was ready to go home and relax.
Though, knowing herself, she wouldn't be able to relax until she had some sort of plan in motion. She racked her brain trying to think of what wizards do when they needed mental health care. She couldn't remember mentions of therapists or mind healers in her textbooks. There was never any discussion of mental health at Hogwarts, beyond the use of calming drought. Even Saint Mungo's didn't have a wing for mental health. After much thought, she had decided her first step was to write to Healer Stoica and see what he suggested.
Finally having lugged herself up the three flights of stairs to her flat, Hermione unlocked her door with her game plan in mind. But her plan was halted when she saw Ron was waiting for her on her couch.
She assumed that he would still be at work and wouldn't see him until later, if even at all. She recalled how he reacted to her experiencing his night terrors, and was worried that he wouldn't want to see her at all, after last night.
But there he was, sitting on her couch, appearing to be reading one of the books from her extensive collection.
"What are you reading?", she asked, joining him on the couch.
"I have no idea," Ron said with a smile, placing the unread book onto the side table. "How was your day?"
"Good," she lied. "How was yours?"
"Good, I eventually woke up and made it to WWW for a bit."
"I hope I'm not getting you in trouble for leaving early," she said with concern.
"Nonsense," he said, waving her off. "I practically am co-owner now. Plus, they don't really need me there."
Hermione nodded and moved closer to Ron.
"Mum wants us to pop by for dinner, but only if you're up for it," Ron said with a sympathetic look.
"That'd be good. I still need to do the shopping, there isn't much to eat here. Plus, I need to get my things." There was something else Hermione needed to do, and this could be the perfect opportunity. "Do you think I could possibly borrow an owl?"
"Yeah, I'm sure you could," Ron paused, considering if he should press her for more detail. "What do you need it for?"
"I thought I'd write to Healer Stoica, to see if he had any ideas on someone I could see here. Hopefully to help work through, erm, everything."
Ron nodded but didn't look if he quite understood. Hermione knew that this was the perfect opportunity to press him about his experience. She didn't want to bring up bad memories or make him worse. But, she was genuinely concerned with what he had been through and how he was dealing with it. She hoped that talking about it would help.
"Did you see anyone, after everything happened?", she hesitantly asked.
"What do you mean?"
Hermione tried to figure out how she could explain therapists to someone who had never heard of one.
"Did you see a healer for your mind?", she asked. "Someone who could help you work through everything? Someone who could help you cope?"
"Not really," Ron responded. Seeing Hermione's disappointment, he continued on. "I mean the healers gave me plenty of calming drought when I first got back. I could barely think straight, they gave me so much.", he said with a dark chuckle. "Of course, they also offered to wipe my memories."
"And you didn't?", Hermione asked though she was fairly sure she knew the answer.
"No."
"Why not?"
"Well, they were the last-," Ron stopped himself. Rethinking what he was saying, he quietly added: "I needed them to help find you. I needed to remember the details."
Silence sat heavily between them, both trying to come to terms with the gravity of what he said.
"Not that it helped," he added.
"What do you mean?"
"I didn't exactly find you, did I?", he said, his face twisted in a look of self-hatred.
Hermione thought of what she could say to help him feel better. But, as was becoming so common recently, she was at a loss for words. Of course, it wasn't his fault for not finding her. It wasn't his fault for the whole situation at all. After all, she was the one who took the portkey in the first place. She could tell him all of this, but she had a feeling that it wouldn't do much in terms of easing his guilt.
"If I find a therapist- a mind healer- that works, do you think you would see them too? So we both could work on-", she thought carefully about the next word she said, "healing together?
"Yeah," said Ron, apparently not having to think hard on his answer. He took her hand that had been resting on the head of the couch, which caused her to smile. They sat in silence for a bit longer, Hermione not quite sure of how long, her exhaustion making time seem less linear.
"Do you think you'll have them take your memories?", Ron said, barely above a whisper.
Hermione thought about this. She had gone so long without her memories, it was hard to imagine going back. Of course, they would only take the really horrible memories. But, she would know that she was missing memories. She would know that horrible things had happened. The only difference would be that she wouldn't have the details. She likely would want to get them back, eventually. To know. After all, was she really better off without her memories? Before, she still had nightmares, she still lived in fear. She just didn't know why. No, it would be better to know. She would just have to find a way to work through them.
"No," she said, shaking her head.
Hermione had fallen asleep in Ron's arms shortly after their conversation. She wasn't sure if he had fallen asleep too, or if he just held her. After a couple of hours, he gently woke her up to head to the burrow.
She fixed her hair and changed into something more casual, suddenly feeling apprehensive of her reunion with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. This would be the first time they really talked since she had come back. Would they be excited to reminisce? Or would they pity her, careful not to bring up anything that could cause her distress? How much did they know about her and Ron's kidnapping? Had they seen his memories?
She shook off her impeding thoughts and took Ron's hand to apparate to the burrow.
Thankfully, the dinner had been full of joy, with not a sign of pity to be seen. George, Angelina, and baby Fred joined them, adding to the excitement and humour. While there were a few quips from George about Hermione and Ron hiding away together, nothing had been mentioned about trauma or anything that wasn't proper dinner conversation.
The Weasley's let Hermione use their owl, with no questions asked, and she mailed her letter to Hr. Stoica.
After spending a very long time lingering on the bits of pudding left, enjoying the company and conversation, it was time for Hermione to grab her suitcase and head back to her flat.
Ron joined her, though she didn't need help carrying the measly trunk she had packed. As soon as the door closed in Ginny's room, and they were alone, Ron began talking, well, mumbling really.
"Erm, I was thinking," he said as he brushed his hair out of his face, something Hermione noticed he tended to do when he was anxious.
Hermione nodded him on.
"I've kinda been staying at yours," he started. "And, if it's okay with you, and you'd like me to stay", he said, the words tumbling out of his mouth. "Well, it'd be nice if I could get a few things from my flat."
Hermione smiled, partially because he was inviting himself over to hers, and partially because of how nervous it made him.
"I'd be alright with that," she said, her small smile threatening to become a full-fledged grin.
"Great!", he said, a little too enthusiastically. "I would invite you to stay at mine, but it's a bit depressing. I like yours a lot more."
Hermione nodded in agreement.
"Especially your bedroom."
Hermione raised her eyebrow.
"Not because-," he frantically added. "Erm. I like it because it's the only place in your flat with colour. It feels homier."
"I understand," Hermione responded with a chuckle. She liked that room the best too. Not because it was homey or because it had colour. No, it was because of the specific colour it was. The colour that now, whenever she saw it, reminded her of her favourite person. Of Ron.