Author's Note: Ok everyone… Chapter 10.  I'm genuinely sorry it took so long, but I can honestly tell you I was not just sitting around doing nothing and neglecting the story, leaving Hermione wallowing in her grief. I did actually do other things.

I'm aware it's short, but I didn't want to drag it out too much it's hard going as it is if you ask me, and that's not what it was intended to be.

Thankyou to everyone who reviewed and I'm utterly shocked and grateful I haven't been flamed.

Please enjoy and fear not, the next chapter is on it's way.

Everything, apart from minor additions here and there, belongs to she who must be deeply respected, JK Rowling. All thanks to her and my computer.

Chapter 10 – The Burden we Bear

It was a long, solemn walk from the Hospital Wing that evening. Hermione was walking, subtly supported by Snape and Deb, in the direction of Deb's quarters.  She said nothing, did nothing, but walked. Until they stepped through the doorway, at which point she collapsed onto the floor and began to weep silently, her whole body heaving in heavy breaths. Deb warded her rooms and locked the door very solidly while Snape lifted Hermione from the floor and carried her to the spare room. Deb rushed past to open the bed, in which the girl was laid gently, despite her mute tears. There they left her and closed the door to darkness.

"She's not taking it well," Severus said somberly.

Deb laughed bitterly, "You noticed? And anyway, can you blame her? Need I remind you of how it happened last time?"

"Not really," he shrugged.

"She still needs time. Let her alone for a little, to really come to grips with it, then we slap her around a bit until she's can come back to reality."

"What exactly do you mean by 'slap her around'?"

"Once, long time ago, I told you something about what I wished somebody would've done for me two weeks after my family died. Remember?"

"I remember what you said, but  you're not going to do that…please tell me you're not going to do that…oh for heaven's sake Deborah, you can't possibly want to do that!"

"I do Severus, I think it's the best thing I could ever do for her, far beyond any education I could give her."

"It's too early. Give her time to grieve." Severus pleaded.

"No." Deb said curtly. "She will have the time afterwards. I'd rather she be dazed and confused than depressed and suicidal."

A large bottle scuttled out of the nearby cabinet, quickly followed by two shot-glasses. In a spectacular show of athletics, the glasses leapt into the hands of the present company, while the bottle levitated itself, poured a drink for the guest and then for the host.

"Genius Deb…charm the alcohol so---"

"So even if I'm too drunk to pour my own drink, the bottle will keep going."

"What if it runs out?"

"It refills itself from a storage keg I have in the cupboard."

"You are the quintessential drinking witch."

"I like to think so."

The evening slid past in a haze of drunken stupor, the evening mellowing into night, night pouring into morning, morning crushing into…

"Headache…" Severus groaned as he gingerly climbed out of his seat and groped about for the support of a stable object.

Deb caught him and thrust a goblet of the same steamy liquid she'd given to Hermione some time ago.

"It's Essence of Heliotrope and Mongoose foot…the quintessential drinking witch's second favorite drink."

Severus took the goblet and threw it down his throat, not caring much for the grotesque sweetness of it. His headache evaporated and he gained control of his balance, allowing him to stand unsupported.

"Sleep well?" Deb asked.

"Like the dead." He answered.

"Is that supposed to be funny?"

Suddenly a frail whimper and thud from Hermione's room. They look immediately to the door, then to each other, then burst through the door.

Unconscious Hermione was on the floor in a heap, one arm flung out to the side exposing one bleeding wrist forming a small pool of blood on the floor. Severus scooped her up and replaced her on the bed after simply healing the modest slit. He noticed something glinting in her other hand. He pried from her cold fingers a razorblade.

"Why on earth do you have a razor in here?"

"I don't, she must have used magic to make something sharp."

"How? I've got her wand."

"Force of will Severus, she must really want to die."

They sat down on either side of her and looked down at her deathly face.

"Should we wake her?" Severus asked.

"No, she'll want to stay in a world of dreams for as long as she can. She doesn't really want to see us now, but we ought to be here when she wakes anyway."

"Why?"

"Because she'll try again if we're not. And she needs to be reminded that she belongs in reality…and that she should be alive."

"Is that how you felt?"

"I wished someone had been there every morning to wake me up…made me want to live. It was like losing a limb. You don't realize how much you loved it and needed it until it's gone. Feel's like you'll never be able to do the same things again."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

She laughed hollowly. "Severus, what would you…what could you have done to help. You had enough on your turncoat plate to be getting along with. It was my problem. I was the one who didn't have friends. I was the one who had to bear the brunt of it."

"What about Dumbledore?"

"He also had enough on his plate. Look Severus, it's long gone now, not worth talking about."

"I think it is." He said quietly.

"Why?"

"Because I don't think it's long gone. I think you spend every day thinking about it. I think it's very much alive in your mind."

"You're right. You're absolutely right," She threw her hands in the air, "What do you want me to tell you, Severus? You want me to tell you all about it? Alright, I'll tell you." She leapt off the bed. "I think about it every day, and if I'm lucky enough not to think about it, I have nightmares about it at night. Every thought and action I carry out is a direct result of the stream of thought that was created by the destruction of my family. It's an all-pervading force in me, Severus. And what hurts me the most is that a crazy, power monger with a bad case of inferiority complex could tear my life to such tiny shreds that I am unable to fix it. My mind is so tortured by him that I can't move on. My entire life is a response to what he did to me. And I can't do ANYTHING about it. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"Yes, but I think you wanted to say it more than I wanted to hear it."

Deb slowly sat down.

"No, Severus, I didn't want to say it. Opening up old wounds...literally tearing the flesh. I've survived for so long without saying anything.  Now…well, it's going to be right there at the surface."

"What about when Voldemort is gone?" Severus suggested.

"By the laws of psychoanalysis that should offer me release from this cycle, but let's not get our hopes up…oh, look she's waking."

Hermione stirred, her eyes fluttering open to reality.

"Morning," Deb smiled, "Gave us quite a fright there."

Hermione was silent, her eyes focusing on the places she had cut on her wrists, now lying in her lap. Deb kneeled in front of her and took Hermione's hands in hers.

"Do you think your parents would want you to do that, Hermione?" Severus asked.

Hermione still abstained from comment.

"You didn't really want to die, did you Hermione?" Deb said, "You just thought that would be the only answer, the only way out."

Hermione looked at her.

"You're listening to an expert here, Hermione. And I can help you right now. I think what you're feeling right now is desperation. You don't really know what do to with yourself, so you're trying to get out of doing anything. But I have a better idea for you. I think what would really help right now is a little perspective, would you agree, Severus?"

"I cannot say that I don't." He replied cautiously.

"What about you Hermione? Perspective?"

Hermione nodded.

"Right," Deb rose to her feet, "Would you stand up for me please?"

Hermione eased herself off the bed to face Deb, her eyes slightly wary.

"It's all right Hermione," Deb smiled as she led Hermione to the window, "I'm not going to kill you. Now, could you look down to the grass down there please?"

Hermione looked down.

"What can you see?" Deb asked neutrally.

"Grass."

"Can you see the blades, or can you see green that you recognize as grass?"

"Green."

"Exactly. Now here's your little bit of perspective."

And Deb picked her up and shoved her out the window.

Hermione suddenly felt the rush of wind past her face and blood to her heart. Her stomach flipped and her breath came in gasps. The ground was shooting towards her, the huge stone blocks of the castle blurring into nothing, the faces of people around her…Harry, Ron, Severus, Deb, her parents…

Suddenly she jolted to a stop, the blades of grass no more than inches from her dangling hair.

"You can see the blades of grass now, can't you Hermione?!" Deb shouted from the window, her wand pointing at Hermione. "Don't worry, it's a rhetorical question!" And Hermione felt herself being raised up again. Deb hauled Hermione's shuddering form back into the room and set her down on the bed, still gasping for breath.

"DEBORAH ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND!?" Severus roared. "SHE'S A GIRL NOT AN APPLE CORE!"

"She's alive isn't she? And the better for it I should think." Deb snapped dryly as she knelt down again before Hermione. "You were afraid weren't you? When you realized you were plunging to your death."

Hermione nodded solemnly.

"You don't really want death, you just don't want to cope…make it all go away and not have to think about it."

She nodded again.

"It doesn't exactly work that way though. You don't get to block them out. They're kind of like infectious diseases. The more ways you find to block them out, the stronger they get and the better they get at eating away at you. You're a strong girl Hermione…And your wrists are stronger than you think, and your friends are closer than you think. That's why you'll spend one week here. One week to mourn and grieve, and then you're going to get up and back to life. Because if you don't, Hermione, he's won. If you can't get back to normal everyday life, that son of a bitch has beaten us. You are the sole survivor in your family. You now bear the same burden that I and Harry bear, but you can see that both Harry and I are coping. Perhaps we're not the most stable people you know, but I believe we're the better for it. Harry was rewarded with the key to Voldemort's destruction, even if he doesn't want it. I was rewarded wit the drive to succeed and champion over problems, even if I didn't ask for it. Nobody asks for it, you certainly didn't, but you were' given it, and like they say, if life hands you lemons…"

"Make lemonade." Severus finished.

"Well, I was going to say lemon drops, but whatever turns you on."