A/N: Hello again friends! Yes, it's been awhile since the last update - this summer brought surgery, a career change, and some other big life events that needed tending to. It's as if these things happen as soon as you become an Ao3 author, haha! But we're back...back to Hermione, back to Lupin, and back to Hogwarts. I'll be publishing much more often now; I can't promise weekly, but certainly more than lately. And I have the storyline plotted! So let's get into what our favorite witch and wizard are up to, here at the start of term...


Hermione ended up in a session with Dr. Wendt much sooner than she had anticipated. She'd been started on the path the morning after her first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson - after breakfast, when she had a rare break in her schedule, McGonagall strode up to her in the hall outside of the Gryffindor Common Room and cleared her throat. "Yes, Professor?" Hermione enquired, expectantly.

"Miss Granger - I'm rather hoping that you'll be meeting our Dr. Wendt soon."

"Oh?"

"Yes. It seems the students have been a bit…tentative, when it comes to making appointments with her. I think that if they saw that you were embracing it, they may feel more emboldened."

"Why me?" Hermione asked, genuinely confused.

"Because many of them look up to you," responded McGonagall, nodding her head slightly. "You have a certain amount of respect. Even not being Head Girl…" The older woman trailed off, eyeing Hermione.

"That was a choice…"

"And this is a request. Would you do this? For me?"

Hermione took a breath. "Yes, of course, Professor."

McGonagall smiled, and again to Hermione's surprise, briskly clasped a hand over hers'. She squeezed, and then pulled away, just as quickly as she had moved. Hermione gazed at her, thoughtfully, as she walked away back down the corridor. There had been a certain naked sadness in McGonagall's eyes that Hermione had never seen there before. She wondered if maybe it had always been there, and she just hadn't ever understood it enough before to realize. But it was there now, sadness falling lightly over the woman like the last crisp leaf off an autumn tree. It made her heart break. And it made her worry that the same sort of sadness would be her own destiny.

And so that's how she found herself in the waiting area outside of Dr. Wendt's office, which was stationed near the Hospital Wing. The waiting area was quite pleasant - homey, with a crackling fire in the hearth and a couple of soft poufs to sit on. The door to Wendt's office was closed, though she heard some quiet talking coming from inside, so Hermione elected to sit on one of the poufs and wait until she came out. She stared into the flames of the fireplace for about twenty minutes, watching them snap and pop against the glowing embers. Her mind drifted to the nightmare, to Lupin, to his hands cradling her foot and his uncertain, soft green eyes gazing up at her from bended knee. Her stomach twisted as the scent of the burning fire curled in her nostrils, pricking them and reminding her of the smell of cigarette smoke on summer wind. Burning parchment in winter. Cold and hot mixed all together, the same as her chest felt when she let her mind wander to the thought of the scar that slashed across Lupin's tiredly handsome face. She wondered what it would feel like to graze it with her fingertips. She wondered if he'd hold her hand there, if she touched his cheek. She wondered if he wanted her to.

Hermione jumped as the door to Wendt's office clicked open, not especially loudly or quickly but enough of an interruption into such secret thoughts that she blushed furiously in response. She saw Dr. Wendt stand beside the door to hold it open, as she smiled and said something quietly to whoever was in the room. Wendt was about her height, petite, but had a heavy energy of intellect about her. Her heart lurched again when she saw the person who had been meeting with Wendt - none other than Draco Malfoy.

Malfoy spotted Hermione immediately and a look of shock cracked his usually smirking face. He swallowed, muttered something to Wendt, and swept out of the room quickly, not even acknowledging Hermione. That was for the best. If she could avoid Malfoy for the rest of the year, it would be better for everyone.

Wendt raised an eyebrow at Malfoy's hastily retreating figure and turned her gaze to Hermione. She smiled. "Hello, Miss Granger."

"You know who-" Hermione broke off. It still surprised her to be recognized, but she had to get used to it. It happened so often nowadays…she didn't know how Harry had done it all those years. It felt terribly intrusive.

"Yes, of course. I'd been hoping to meet you - I'm so glad you've decided to stop by."

"Oh, well, yes," Hermione replied. "I just wanted to sign up to have a…session, I suppose."

"Well, I'm free now, actually, if you would like to come in." Wendt nodded in the direction of the office. "You look warm, anyway, is the fire too hot?"

Hermione tilted her head questioningly, then brought the backs of her fingers to her hot cheeks. She was warm, yes, but it wasn't the flames that had brought the flush to her skin. Green eyes. Smoke. The sharp taste of apples. She swallowed hard. "Yes. I- sure. I have some time."

Wendt's inner office had much the same feeling as the waiting room. Checked curtains framed a small window, and warm yellow sunlight dappled across the rich wood of the doctor's desk and several bookcases. It felt cozy. A plush velvet couch was placed across from a woolen easy chair, which had a small table next to it. A quill stood at attention over a sheaf of blank parchment. Hermione stopped as she saw it.

"It's not a Quick-Quotes Quill," said Wendt, as if she was reading Hermione's mind. "It's just easier to take notes this way, so I can devote more of my attention to you."

"Oh. Yes." Hermione sat on the velvet couch, slipping her hands underneath her thighs nervously. Wendt closed the door and then settled into the easy chair. She smiled at Hermione.

"What made you come in today?"

"McGonagall-" Hermione caught herself. She's going to know I don't want to be here, she thought.

Wendt took it in stride. "I'm sure she wanted you to come, yes. But why did you do it?"

"Because she asked."

"You could've said no. Or you could've said yes, and just not done it."

This took Hermione aback. "I told her I would. So I did."

"Your word is important to you," Wendt said, lacing her fingers together.

"Honesty is."

"Do you plan to be honest with me?" Wendt studied Hermione from behind her spectacles.

"Sure." Hermione shifted uncomfortably.

"Well, I plan to be honest with you, too, Hermione. So in that way, I think we can trust each other." Wendt was very disarming, Hermione could give her that. "Is there anything you'd like to talk about? I confess I come into our professional relationship with some background knowledge of you…I wouldn't be any good on a Muggle jury." This reference was a bit familiar to Hermione, but she didn't know quite what Wendt meant. "So I don't want to be presumptuous, or ask about things I think I know about but of course, do not. I want you to lead the way. And if you'd like to just chat about your classes, we can do that too."

Green eyes. Smoke. The sharp taste of apples.

"Are nightmares normal?" Hermione blurted, surprising even herself with the question. Wendt tilted her head.

"In general, or…?"

"After something like the Battle of Hogwarts. I've been…I have nightmares most nights. And these…it's like I can't breathe, and I'm back there, I can't breathe and I can't control it. It's…horrible." The words came tumbling out of her like a cork had loosened from a bottle.

"Nightmares after any traumatic event are normal, yes. Though the extent of them is something we should look further in to," Wendt responded. "And the…shortness of breath? And you feel like you're back - at the Battle, is it?"

"Yes."

"That sounds like a panic attack. Are you experiencing this frequently?"

"I don't know. I don't know how frequently is normal. Usually…something happens, and it brings me back to it. I never know when it'll happen."

"Hermione, that's absolutely normal. It's a stress response from the body, still stuck in its 'fight or flight' mode from these events."

"Well, is it going to happen forever?"

"Are you afraid it will?"

Hermione sighed. "Yes, of course. I don't like being out of control of myself."

Wendt sat back in her chair. "That's very interesting. And when you're experiencing these moments, is there anything that brings you out of it?"

Hermione chewed on her lip. "Sometimes, if I'm with…someone…they know what to do. They know how to help. Even in the dreams…" She coughed. I don't really want to talk about that with her. Not yet.

"Is this a particular person, that helps you?" Hermione paused, then sighed again. She nodded. Wendt nodded back thoughtfully. "Then perhaps it would be a good idea to meditate on why that is - why that particular person. What about them is able to break the trauma response…what it is that makes you feel safe."

Before Hermione could respond, the end of period bell chimed. Her shoulders dropped, as if a weight had lifted from them. Wendt noticed her relief, and laughed. "Sorry," Hermione muttered, embarrassed.

"That's alright," the doctor responded. "That was quite enough for our first discussion, no?" Wendt stood and walked Hermione to the door. "We can meet again at this time next week - unless you'd like to come back earlier. And, of course, if you'd like to come back at all. That is all up to you, Hermione."

Hermione looked back at Wendt, who was eyeing her intently. She smiled weakly. "Next week is good," she managed, and hurried out of the office and into the bustling hallway.


A/N: Thanks so much to everyone for sticking with this story, and for commenting, bookmarking, and kudos-ing while I was on hiatus! It is so wonderful, and makes me so excited to continue this story. Song referenced in chapter title is "Achilles Come Down" by Gang of Youths. Any response is so appreciated - more to come soon! :)