4

Hermione awoke in a daze. For a split second, she had no idea where she was, but after a moment of adjustment, she could faintly make out the outlines of shapes in her room. She felt the unmistakable morning-after effects of Dreamless Sleep Potion: the pounding just behind her ears, tinge of nausea, and slight prickling in the nape of her neck.

She started to sit up and involuntarily jerked backward, letting out a shriek, when she felt cold hands reach out of the darkness and take her arm.

She could hear someone talking, but the lingering effects of the potion had the speaker's voice muffled.

Suddenly, the lights came on in her room, and she could see Ginny sitting beside her on the bed, hair askew and a groggy look on her face, as if she had just awoken as well.

"What the hell, Ginny! You almost gave me a heart attack." She clutched her hand to her chest and took a deep breath, trying desperately to calm her racing heart.

"Sorry," Ginny said, still squinting one eye to shield it from the harsh light now filling the room. "I thought you were about to get up, and I didn't want you to fall over." When Hermione looked at her quizzically, she added, "Susan said you'd be groggy for a bit, since she gave you such a large dose of Dreamless Sleep, remember?"

Bits and pieces started coming back to her now. "Yeah, sorry." She shook her head, trying to reorganize her thoughts, and said, "Everything's still a bit foggy."

She remembered Susan Bones returning with Ginny soon after Harry yelled for her to get a healer, but everything seemed out-of-focus and distant, like it was someone else's memory rather than her own.

She used her fingertips to rub circles into her eyelids, and Ginny asked, "Do you need anything? Headache potion? Water? Swift kick in the arse for being so hardheaded?"

Hermione looked over sharply at Ginny, who looked back in her no-nonsense kind of way that she obviously inherited from her mother.

"Water, please," she requested, and Ginny stood, leaving the room, without further derision.

Hermione allowed her head to roll back onto her pillow while the haze in her mind cleared.

"Something's wrong. Something's wrong." She had been repeating those words over and over from her spot on the floor. Harry, looking completely bewildered, hair standing on end and eyes full of fear and confusion, knelt in front of her. He was trying desperately but failing to hold her arms steady. She couldn't control her shaking, and she felt both frigid and afire at the same time.

Harry's mouth was moving now, but she couldn't make out what he was saying over the sounds of her gasping for air and the string of thoughts coursing through her mind.

Help me!

She could feel the blood pounding in her ears, and dark spots clouded her vision. She knew Harry was still in front of her, and she tried to focus on his green eyes, now opaque with tears and worry.

What's happening to me?

She clutched Harry's hands with her own. He didn't appear to notice her fingernails digging into his skin.

I'm having a heart attack.

Her chest was rising and falling rapidly, but no matter how hard she pulled in air, it didn't seem to reach her lungs completely.

I'm losing my mind.

"Something's wrong." She spoke barely above a whisper now, despite the screaming in her head.

Her vision clouded making the room sway. The sound of her own gasping and Harry's garbled words slowly started to fade. She was completely weightless as she noticed him standing. She then realized it was her that was moving, as she fell to the floor, and everything went black.

"…miuh…"

"…mi..nee"

She heard someone speaking, but, as if she were underwater, the words sounded soft and distorted.

"Hermione."

Hands softly brushed her face and something cold and wet pressed against her forehead.

She tried lifting her eyes, but they felt too heavy.

When she managed to slowly pry them open, she was lying on the floor with three pairs of eyes blinking down at her.

"Wha…appened?" she tried asking, but her lips seemed to weigh more than her eyelids, and she was certain no sound came out. She cleared her throat and tried again. "What happened?"

The person connected to the pair of hazel eyes to her right said, "You fainted, Hermione."

As she tried to sit up, two of the three tried to push her back down, and the wet flannel that had been on her forehead fell onto her chest, making her jump.

The woman spelled the cloth away and spoke again. "It's important that you stay lying down for just a moment. Your body is still recovering and if you stand too quickly, you'll likely fall down again." Hermione recognized the woman's voice and eyes, but the rest of her features were still too muddy to make out.

She shifted her eyes to focus on Harry's directly above her face, though his was upside down from this angle. From the way he was sitting, her head must've been in his lap, and she blushed with mortification, immediately attempting to move again, but he held her in place. "Don't make it weird, 'Mi," he said with a chuckle.

He's laughing, so I must not be dying.

Fingers glanced across her hand and she turned her eyes to look at Ginny sitting to her left. When they made eye contact, she began to tear up again and she felt her chin begin to quiver. Ginny brushed a hand across her cheek, and she knew these were the hands she felt before she opened her eyes. Ginny said, "It's okay. Susan's come to help, and we're all right here with you."

Susan Bones?

She could see lucidly now, and she turned to see Susan Bones smiling down at her. "Can you see me now?"

Hermione nodded, and Susan said, "Good. I think you can probably sit up now."

When Hermione started to move, Susan and Ginny both took one of her arms and gently pulled her to her feet. They guided her to one of the chairs at the kitchen table and helped her sit down.

Despite the hard wood of the seat, it felt comforting beneath her and helped to ease the shaking in her legs from the few short steps it took to reach it.

She looked around the room and was once again startled by the disarray around her. The portraits on the walls were laying on the ground, frames askew. The teacups and takeaway boxes were in ruins at her feet. And Harry had what appeared to be dried blood on his chest and chin.

"Harry, what happened?" she asked, fearing that she already knew the answer.

"Oh, this," he replied, looking down at his chest. "Um, yeah, you just kind of shot something out of you. I'm okay, really. Just bloodied my nose a bit."

"Shot something out of me? What the hell does that mean?"

"Accidental magic," Susan said. "It's quite common for someone who has suffered serious trauma. It's very similar to what children go through as their first learning to harness their magic. Your body perceives a threat, and your magic simply takes over."

"Harry, I'm…" She didn't know what to say. The shame from having hurt him was debilitating. "I… I'm so sorry. I don't know what happened. I don't know what's wrong with me."

Harry came over to sit beside her, taking her hands in his own. "Hermione, whatever this is, we can fix it. You can fix it. Susan says this is all normal. I'm fine, I promise. Everything's going to be okay."

She let him hold her as she cried into his chest and thought how silly it was that he was the one comforting her after she had just accidently cursed him.

After a moment, her tears slowed, and she was able to stop the quaking in her chest long enough to look at Susan and ask, "What's happening to me?"

Susan cleared her throat and said, "You had a panic attack."

"A panic attack?" She looked back and forth between the three of them, questioningly. "But I wasn't panicking… well I wasn't to begin with, anyway."

She heard that Susan had begun working at St. Mungo's after the war, but she hadn't seen her in probably a year. Not since they had worked alongside one another to clean and rebuild Hogwarts. Even then, they were on a team of dozens of people. They weren't exactly friends, more like acquaintances, now that the war was over, which was why it felt strange that Hermione was comforted when Susan smiled at her now, despite feeling completely humiliated for the current situation she was in.

"That's a common misconception about panic attacks," Susan said. "They can occur for a variety of reasons, most of which don't involve panicking at all. Essentially, your brain becomes overwhelmed from stress or severe negative emotions, and your body's natural fight-or-flight response takes over. And then you become trapped in your own mind, unable to slow your thoughts or the psychological and physical reactions occurring in your body." Susan's words were calm and melodic, making the situation seem much less dramatic than Hermione felt it was moments ago.

"So, I overreacted myself into fainting?" Hermione asked, not able to mask her skepticism.

"Yes and no," Susan said with a grin.

When Hermione didn't respond, she added, "Yes, as in your 'body'," she enunciated, "overreacted in thinking that your current situation, here in your own home with people who love you, was unsafe. No, because it isn't that simple. It doesn't mean you're weak or that you had any control whatsoever in what was going on inside your mind."

They sat in silence for a few moments, Harry and Ginny glancing at one another and Susan patiently waiting for Hermione to work through her emotions.

Of course, she'd heard of anxiety and panic attacks, and was certain she had been on the verge of a full-on mental breakdown back in third year, but this had legitimately felt like she was dying. She wiped a shaky hand across her brow, finding it still sticky from sweat.

"And what about the accidental magic? I've never had that problem before. I didn't know anyone had that problem actually," Hermione said.

"As I said, it's very normal for someone who has suffered significant trauma. In the Muggle world, what you're going through, or at least what I believe you're going through, is referred to as Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, or PTSD. In the magical world, it's relatively unheard of, but mainly due to the stigma associated with mental help treatment. However, based on my research, when those with magical abilities suffer from PTSD, it can result in essentially an explosion of magic, wherein your body is attempting to protect itself from a perceived threat."

"So other people have gone through this then?"

"Absolutely," Susan responded. "Anyone suffering significant trauma is at a high risk of PTSD. Muggles see it predominantly from those who have fought in wars, but also from anyone who has faced substantial suffering."

"So, is there any treatment for this or is this just my life now?" Hermione asked, her heart sinking.

Susan gave her a genial smile, "It is entirely treatable. Muggles have been treating this illness for decades with phenomenal results. When the patient is willing, oftentimes the side-effects associated with PTSD are completely eradicated."

"Oftentimes? What about the other instances?"

"Other times, patients can learn the appropriate ways to respond to their trauma, or the flashbacks and anxiety that come along with it, enough to live completely functional and seemingly normal lives afterward."

"And what exactly does this treatment entail?"

Susan said, "My colleagues and I are currently working on that actually. It's a rather new field in the wizarding community."

"I thought you said PTSD has been treated successfully for decades," Hermione said, confused.

"It has been… for Muggles. For us, mental health is almost uncharted territory. I'm sure you're aware that I've been working with St. Mungo's. I've been studying quite a bit since Hogwarts and working among some of the best healers throughout the entire world. My colleagues and I have been working extensively on developing a mind-healing division within St. Mungo's devoted almost entirely to Muggle treatment methods."

Hermione's mind was reeling. Mind-healing? Muggle treatment methods? "But that doesn't make sense. The board of directors would never go for that. Muggle treatment is almost offensive within St. Mungo's… well almost everywhere in the wizarding community."

At this, Susan frowned for the first time since the conversation began. The sadness on her face was short-lived, however, as she quickly recovered and lifted her chin along with one eyebrow haughtily.

"You're right, and that's something we're working to change, even if that means opening our very own hospital to do it."

Hermione contemplated this momentarily and, looking down at Susan who was still sitting at the table, asked, "Mind-healing? So, you think something is wrong with my mind?"

Susan softened at this and began speaking again. "No, Hermione. I don't think there's something 'wrong' with your mind. I think you've been through some very traumatic experiences within the last few years, and that you're having trouble coping with them."

Hermione sighed and looked down, clenching her jaw tightly. She didn't want to deny what she had been going through, but she wasn't quite ready to talk about it either.

Harry spoke then, reaching across the table to take her hand. "There's nothing to be ashamed of. I've talked to her myself, 'Mi. After the war was over, I was having a really hard time." He focused on a spot over Hermione's shoulder, and she saw the muscle in his jaw roll as he struggled with his own vulnerability.

"I had never stopped to really mourn after losing everyone. Dumbledore, Dobby, Fred, Lupin, Sirius. It just… I hadn't allowed myself to grieve or even feel anything. It started being overwhelming, and I just stopped feeling."

Hermione was looking at him completely dumbstruck. She brought her free hand to join the other in holding his. This brought his focus back to her face. "Harry, I had no idea. Why didn't you say anything?"

"Why haven't you?" he asked, tilting his head at her meaningfully.

She sat, feeling like a fool for having walked right into that and also for allowing him to feel so alone. She was so wrapped up in her own grief that she hadn't even noticed that her best friend was hurting. She opened her mouth and then snapped it shut, having no idea where to even begin.

Ginny reached over, placing her hand on Harry's leg reassuringly. "Hermione, stop it. I know what you're doing. I can see it all over your face. Harry's fine. I knew what was going on, and I spoke to Susan about it. He's as stubborn as you are. Do you think he would have talked to her if I didn't practically drag him to her office?"

"Well, I'd hardly say drag. I-"

"Drag," Ginny and Susan said simultaneously.

"Fine, I was dragged. Point is, I'm better because of it, and I think you will be too."

They all looked at Hermione, waiting on her to take the next move.

She pulled her hands back, putting them in her lap and nervously picking at her cuticles. "It's just so stupid. I'm supposed to be so bloody smart and fearless, I've got an Order of Merlin for gods' sakes for running headlong into danger without blinking an eye, but I'm over here blubbering like a first-year. So many people lost so much more than me."

She looked up then, but at Susan, hoping to get some answer to the one question that had been plaguing her incessantly for months. "Why is it just me?"

Susan said nothing, likely knowing Hermione had more to add. She waited for Hermione to be able to get out what she knew she needed to.

"I never considered myself a weak person, but I look around and everyone seems fine, completely unbothered by the entire war. Everyone seems to have moved on, and I…" she looked up at the ceiling, silently demanding her tears to stay put. When she felt certain again that she wasn't going to cry, she looked back at Susan. "I feel like I'm drowning."

When she didn't continue, Susan said, "It isn't just you. Did you ever consider that everyone feels the way you're feeling? They're just ashamed to say anything, thinking they're the only ones too?"

Hermione Granger, Golden Girl, smartest witch of her age, recipient of 11 O.W.L.s, had honestly never considered that, and now she felt like even more of a twit.

Susan grinned at her. "Everyone responds differently to trauma, Hermione. A dozen people could all go through exactly the same things throughout their lives at exactly the same times, and you'd still see a dozen different responses. What you're feeling is entirely normal, expected even. I'd be more concerned about you if you had zero affects after all that you've gone through."

Hermione considered this and then yawned. When she started to continue, Susan stopped her, saying, "I love that you're open to talking about this, and hopefully we'll have more opportunities to do so soon when you consider the program I've been developing. But now it's really important that you rest. Panic attacks can cause a tremendous drain on your system. We really should have let you rest earlier honestly, but I wanted you to understand what happened and know that it isn't at all life-threatening. Traumatic, definitely, but it can't kill you. And most importantly, I wanted you to know that I can help you." She stood up, and walked to the other side of the table.

She took Hermione by the arm and asked, "Ginny could you lend a hand? We need to lie her down – don't look at me like that, you know you need the help." Hermione had tried to interrupt, explaining that she was perfectly capable of laying herself down, but when they lifted her to her feet, her legs wobbled beneath her.

"Just take it easy. There are no lasting effects from an anxiety attack, but your body is really knackered afterward. You'll need to rest for a bit before you're up moving around too much."

Ginny began leading them toward the stairs, telling Harry good night as they passed, while Susan explained that she wanted to give Hermione a dreamless sleep potion that night. When Hermione began to object, Susan told her that her body was weakened after the night's events, so her dreams could be very vivid. The look that Ginny gave Susan then said that she already had been made aware of Hermione's nightmares.

When they made it upstairs, Hermione removed her wand from her hair and placed it on her bedside table. She sat down on the side of her bed, and Susan removed a small bottle from her robes. She sat the potion down on the table beside Hermione's wand and said, "This is pretty potent, but in your body's current condition, I believe it's warranted. You should sleep undisturbedly for about 8 hours, but you'll be pretty groggy when you wake up, I'm sure. So, don't get up and run any marathons, eh?"

"I'm leaving you a pamphlet here as well. It goes over what my team and I have been working on. What we'd like you to be a part of." She pulled the chair from the desk and faced it toward Hermione on the bed. When she sat in it, it placed them at exactly eye-level with one another.

"I know you said you have a meeting in the morning, and I know you well enough to know that you won't cancel it. Please, do get in touch with me tomorrow, Hermione." She looked at her seriously and took her hand. "It's very important that you do. This isn't going to go away. The last year should be proof of that." She stared at her a moment longer, then stood, said goodbye to Ginny, and left the room.

Ginny moved away from the wall where she had been standing and began pulling the blankets down for Hermione. "Come on. Lie down. I'll stay here with you, okay?"

As Hermione lay down, she said, "You don't have to do that. I'm really fine. I'm just tired."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "I know. You're fine. Everything's great. You don't need help. Just take the damn potion and stop being so bloody obstinate."

Ginny sat down beside her on the bed, handing her the purple potion, and said, "Hermione, please take this seriously. I know how strong you are. We all do. You don't have to convince anyone of that. This isn't about being weak. It's about taking care of yourself. You saved Harry and Ron countless times. You helped save the entire world for that matter." Ginny paused and placed her hand on Hermione's arm affectionately. "You are worthy of just as much. You don't have to always be the one doing the saving. Let us help you. Let someone help you."

"Okay." Hermione couldn't really think of anything else to say at that moment. She felt uncomfortable and foolish under the sincerity of Ginny's gaze, thinking she was an idiot for allowing herself to become so breakable.

"I'll be right here, okay? Just get some sleep."

So, she did.

Ginny returned, glass of water in hand, and sat back down on the bed beside Hermione. They sat in silence while Hermione sipped her water, and then, sitting the glass down onto the table beside her, Hermione breathed in deeply and laid back down.

Neither spoke. Ginny looked at Hermione expectantly, so she said, "I'm going to take a personal day today." Just that simple sentence from any other person may not mean much, but from Hermione, a woman who had never even taken a sick day, it was monumental.

Ginny, exhaling softly, lay back down on the other side of the bed and turned off the lights. Hermione's bedside clock read 6:02, and the rays of the morning sun were barely beginning to peak over the horizon.

"Are you going to speak to Susan then?" Ginny asked. Hermione turned and could faintly see Ginny looking back at her.

"Yes. I know you and Harry are right. I know I'm … damaged. Honestly, I thought everyone else seemed to be coping just fine, and it was only me who was struggling, so I needed to just suck it up and carry on." Hermione found that once she had admitted to needing help, the rest seemed to come out a little easier too. It probably helped that Ginny was looking at the ceiling rather than straight into her soul.

"George has a drinking problem," Ginny said. "It hasn't gotten entirely out of hand, but mom and dad are still worried that he won't be able to rein it in. It hurt us all, of course, but obviously losing Fred hit him in a much deeper way than the rest of us. Apparently, he finds some sort of comfort in the bottom of a bottle."

Ginny, never looking away from the dark ceiling above them, continued. "Neville can't sleep alone. He has Hannah staying with him now, but before they started dating some woman or another shared his bed every night. Some men too from what I've heard."

Hermione looked away from the blackness above her, gaping at Ginny. Neville being bi wasn't really a huge shock to be honest, but the fact that others were struggling at all was surprising.

Ginny, glancing toward Hermione briefly, added, "It wasn't always about sex, I'm sure. He just can't handle being alone. He found Colin, you know? He carried his body to the Great Hall with the others. He told me once that when he's alone, trying to sleep, he can't stop seeing his face. It's not fear really. It's guilt. Wishing he could have done more and beating himself up for being alive."

Hermione knew that feeling all too well, the all-consuming guilt for surviving when so many didn't. It was never far from her conscious mind, and she felt it deep in her bones, like it wasn't only something she experienced but was now a part of who she is. It lived within the blood pumping through her veins and filled her lungs along with every breath.

The people they lost followed her like ghosts, stared down at her with accusing eyes while she slept, and colored every aspect of her life with shadow. She wished they could be here to see the world that the cost of their lives helped rebuild, to see life beyond the war. So much that, if she could, she'd trade her life for theirs in a heartbeat.

"Seamus is always angry. He boxes professionally and seems to enjoy beating people to a pulp just a bit too much. When he isn't in a ring, he's picking fights in bars with strangers. He walks around with a permanent scowl, nothing like the laughing, carefree boy he was at school… before the Carrows, of course."

Hermione had been miserable, terrified, and starved during the time that she, Harry, and Ron were searching for horcruxes. But, truthfully, she felt lucky in comparison to what others went through during that time being trapped in Hogwarts with the Carrows. There was the constant threat of being subjected to the Imperius and Cruciatus curses from both faculty and fellow students. They were beaten, berated, and abused for their own transgressions and for anything their family may have done to anger Voldemort on the outside, like Luna's kidnapping.

Ginny once told her of finding Lavender crying in their common room when everyone else was at dinner. Despite everything they had already experienced, this was different somehow. Ginny said that she seemed completely broken. After getting her upstairs, Ginny gave her a calming draught that one of the house-elves retrieved from Madam Pomfrey. Ginny understood the situation more clearly when she helped Lavender change out of her school robes and saw the bruises and bites that covered her. Lavender wouldn't ever give her any names, and after that night she refused to talk about it at all.

No matter how hard her year on the run had been, clearly those left behind had had it worse.

"After Riddle's diary in my first year, I…" Ginny wiped a tear that escaped over her lashes. "I felt so lost and undeserving. Harry almost died because of me. All of those people, you, all of you could have died because of my own stupidity – "

"Ginny, you don't – "

Ginny looked at her now. "I know. I know 'now.' But then, I felt completely hopeless. If not for Percy, truthfully, I don't know how I would have pulled out of it."

Hermione, again, was flabbergasted. She actually snorted while asking, "Percy?"

Ginny laughed as well and said, "Yeah, Percy. Prat as he is, he was really the only one in my house who took the time to check on me after all that. I think maybe it was out of remorse for having jumped down my throat for catching him snogging Penelope rather than listening about what I was going through. He talked to me a lot and really helped to pull me out of it."

Ginny rolled over to face Hermione fully and continued, "My point is that you aren't alone. You just haven't noticed." Seeing Hermione's reaction, she quickly added, "And that's okay. You don't have to fuss over anyone anymore. So, take whatever you'd be saying to me right now if the tables were turned and do that. Care about yourself as much as you care about everyone else."

They sat silently for a minute, then Ginny rolled back over. "I looked at the pamphlet over there. I knew a bit about it from Valmai already. I was actually planning to mention it to you anyways. You remember, the 'nuthouse.' " She glanced over at Hermione, lifting one eyebrow in irritation.

Valmai was a lead chaser with the Holyhead Harpies, and Hermione had met her a couple times when Ginny had a few of the women over after practice.

"Valmai's older sister is a mind healer like Susan. They work together actually, trying to get their program off the ground. I thought it sounded really interesting, and given the Muggle groundwork, I thought you'd consider it."

"What is 'it'?" Hermione asked hesitantly. Her mind was racing with the few Muggle treatment methods she knew about, though she thought (hoped, really) that they were outdated. Images of straightjackets, padded rooms, and lobotomies flooded her thoughts. Not to mention the studies on "female hysteria" she read about ages ago, the thought of which made her visibly cringe.

"Well, it is a facility, though I think they're steering clear of the term 'nuthouse.' You'd go stay there for a couple weeks, along with other people having similar issues. You'd talk to a mind healer and do some activities to learn to cope with everything." She shrugged, as if it was the easiest thing in the world to accomplish. "Sounds pretty straightforward. And you get to do some fun stuff too. Muggle stuff. Rock climbing, camping, hiking, things like that."

Truthfully, it didn't sound as awful as Hermione had thought. It did seem fairly simple. So simple, in fact, that Hermione didn't really see how it could possibly help, outside of a change of scenery.

"Oh, and you do it without a wand, apparently." Ginny clarified. "Absolutely primitive, but Susan is certain it would be invaluable to the wizarding world."

Without a wand? Hermione really didn't see how anyone in the wizarding world would even participate, let alone financially support the idea.

Ginny continued. "This is like a trial period. If it goes well, the ministry and Mungo's will be backing them completely afterward. So, it's a pretty big step for the entire wizarding community. Not to pressure you or anything." The look Ginny gave her clearly showed her intentions were the opposite, however. "Anyway, you should talk to Susan about it. Obviously, she'll give you a lot more information than I can. But you should definitely consider going, if for nothing else than to just give it a go. I mean, what could you possibly have to lose?"

My dignity? Though, last night, passing out on the floor and having to be practically carried to her room, may have taken the last shred of that she had left.

Ginny sat up, stretched, and looked at the clock beside the bed. "If you're planning to call in to work, you should get on it. And I need to go wake Harry. He can never remember to set an alarm, so I'm sure he's still out cold."

As Ginny left the room, Hermione lifted herself to sitting, shifting the pillows behind her back, and reached for her wand and the pamphlet on the table beside her. She flipped the curtains open with a flick of her wand, allowing the morning's sunlight to fill her room, and looked down at the leaflet in her hands.

The front showed an expansive tudor-style manor overlooking a large, black lake. The walls were cream and mahogany, and there appeared to be multiple buildings within the compound. In shiny, flowing script across the top, it read, "The Willows Retreat," and underneath that, in small gold letters, "Mental healing in the wizarding world."

She thought that, based solely on the cover, the place actually looked rather nice and homey. There was a massive pool gracing the front lawn and stone pathways travelling amongst the buildings, wrapping around beds of vibrantly colored flowers.

She opened it up to find a scene of various still photos rotating throughout a single panel. First, a circle of rattan chairs on an ivy-covered balcony overlooking the lake ("Loch Trool", according to the photo's scrolling description). A second of a spacious dining room, accented with various shades of teal and chocolate, with open beams in the ceiling and French doors lining the wall. The photos continued to shift, showing different scenes throughout the facility, a community room full of luxurious armchairs sitting around a stone fireplace, an art studio, a lush canopy bed in the center of a large bedroom, the biggest clawfoot tub Hermione had ever seen, and, the only photo that made her literally gasp in excitement: a library stacked with rows and rows of shelves, holding an insurmountable number of books. The slideshow ended with an aerial view of what appeared to be the entire complex. It showed four buildings, a large horse stable, and a vast expanse of seemingly unending forest.

The middle page read, "The Willows Retreat, magically hidden within Scotland's lovely Galloway Forest Park, is dedicated to providing an intensive therapeutic environment to witches and wizards who are struggling with mental health crises. Our expansive 50-acre sanctuary is modeled around Muggle psychiatric healing which focuses on assisting the patient in four foundational freedoms of mental health recovery:

- Freedom from the stigma of mental illness in the wizarding world

- Freedom from dehumanizing and demeaning treatment

- Freedom to pursue recovery

- Freedom to access medically necessary treatment"

"Our experienced staff of mind healers are well-versed in both magical and non-magical derived mental health concerns, many of which are licensed mental health practitioners in the Muggle world. We use both personal therapy and group therapy to build powerful, meaningful relationships with caregivers as well as others who are facing similar difficulties. Our primary goal at The Willows Retreat is to improve the psychological well-being of our patients while maintaining dignity and responsibility for the individual."

The last page featured a "What to Expect Throughout Your Stay" section, which stated, "A range of programs, geared toward individual levels of capability and need, a broad activities program offering creative expression in a multitude of disciplines, an open therapeutic community with no involuntary residence, complete tolerance and acceptance of a patient's individual life, trauma, and struggles, and team-building exercises and group activities to promote companionship and self-esteem."

The two pages remaining on the back listed contact information and a few other important aspects of the program. Hermione skimmed over the contact info, finding the program director, Walter Whitby, whom she had never heard of, Susan Bones, and Alys Morgan, presumably Valmai's sister.

So far, everything she read seemed intriguing and perhaps helpful, but this last section gave her pause. The first bullet read, "MAGIC POLICY: Patients are required to sign written acceptance of The Willows Retreat's magic policy which states individuals may not use magic throughout the entirety of the program unless given specific clearance to do so or in the event of a life-threatening emergency."

No wand at all? This wasn't a comforting thought at all. Since Mr. Ollivander handed her what we become her wand almost a decade ago, she had maintained a firm grasp on it at almost all times. After Godric's Hollow and Harry's wand was broken, she had had to give him hers in order for him to stand watch. Even during those short episodes, she found her heart racing and her palm itching for the feel of vine wood. Giving it over for the entire… how long is this?... 12-week program seemed reckless and terrifying.

Am I seriously considering this? She couldn't help but be intrigued. Just like Ginny had said, this was a monumental step for the wizarding world. How could she consider not taking part? And truthfully, she knew she was struggling, and after an entire year of this, it certainly wasn't getting any better.

Maybe Ginny is right, and I'm not taking very good care of myself.

What could it hurt really? If nothing else, I'd get a nice 12-week break.

12-weeks!? What the hell am I thinking? What about my clients?

I don't even love this job. It isn't my end-goal, after all. Maybe by the time I'm done, I'll be one step closer to getting the actual job I want.

Group therapy? Team-building exercises? What if I'm there with a bunch of Slytherins? I've barely admitted I even have an issue; I'm definitely not going to be able to stomach baring my soul to a bunch of people.

But is what I'm doing helping at all? I have to do something different.

You're a Gryffindor, for crying out loud. Bloody act like it.

She rose from her bed, determination in her heart for the first time in a year despite the fear and nausea causing her limbs to shake and strode to the fireplace to make an appointment with Susan.