A/N: I still don't own Harry Potter.
Trigger Warning: As seen in description, this story deals majorly with depression.
Back home, Ron disappeared somewhere leaving Hermione to put away her purchases, the two books. Picking up the one Professor Snape had given her, something fell to the floor. She blinked and bent down to pick it up. It was a business cards advertising Prince Apothecaries. She bit back a half smile. So what was what Snape was doing with his life now, she was surprised he hadn't corrected her when she'd called him 'professor'. There was a handwritten address scrawled on the back and she recognized his handwriting.
"I wonder why..." she muttered placing it back in the book. She read the first few pages, realizing quickly the book was about depression and how it affected magic in general.
"Depression? That's what this is?" she asked herself. Now she knew Ron wouldn't understand, he had the emotion range of a teaspoon.
The next few days, she read the book whenever she had a chance. Since Ron was working a fair amount, that gave her a lot of time to read. She had just reached the fifth chapter, which talked about potions that could help with depression when something clicked into her mind. Professor Snape probably brewed many of these potions, hence why he gave her the card. She smiled realizing that at least he seemed to care about her well being.
Ron had talked to her this morning, finally having noticed she wasn't herself, well not the self he remembered.
"I like this new you, 'Mione. You're not as bossy and you don't act like I'm stupid anymore!" She had barely even blinked through the exhaustion of having had just gotten up and made him breakfast. He seemed to expect her to make all the meals, something she had forced herself to get used to.
"That's nice," she stated stabbing her eggs with her fork and taking a bite.
"I bet that's why you got that promotion at work, no one wants to work for someone who's always got to be right," he added. She glared. She'd gotten that promotion through hard work, thank you very much. Right now, that was the only thing that even brought her a small bit of joy. The fact with this new title, she had more power to fix the inequalities of the wizarding world, including those involving magical creatures, such as house elves.
"If you say so," she responded losing interest in breakfast. Ron had started talking about buying a new broom and trying out for some professional Quiddich team. She doubted he would make it, he really wasn't that great of a player, but she smiled at all the right times.
Once he left, she crawled back into bed letting the tears fall from her eyes. How had things gotten like this? She knew she should be happy, Ron was happy. She had her dream job, well, close to it. Everything was falling into place. Maybe she just missed Harry. When he'd first left, she'd tried to owl him, but the owls came back without a response. She knew he was getting her letters at least.
Her eyes fell on the book. She'd left it on her nightstand. She reached over and picked it up, the card falling out again. She blinked. Could a potion really help her? Help her feel something again, help her be herself? She picked up the card holding it between her fingers. The address was in Diagon Alley. She shuddered. She didn't want to return there, it was too painful, a reminder of everything and everyone she'd lost. She put the card back on the nightstand and curled back under the covers.
"Hermione! I'm home!" She opened her eyes and sighed. She'd fallen asleep and not accomplished anything today. Ron practically ran into the room.
"They said I had a chance! Barely anyone applied, and I saw some of the other tryouts, they were horrible, like McLaggen was in school. I might make a professional team, Hermione! Get up, are you sick or something? We should celebrate!" he shouted. She nodded slowly getting out of bed.
"Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," she lied. Going out and celebrating something that most likely wouldn't happen was pretty much the last thing she wanted to do right now.