Blaise Zabini- Eighteen Months Later

On their romance;

She had become resigned to never finding him, until she did, find him. She was thrown into a whirlwind and it was alright because they shared that chaos together. He was with her through it all and she wasn't disappointed. Not in his smile. Not in his kisses, not in the words he spoke or his ideas and aspirations. She was beyond charmed and he indulged her. Not disappointed, even in that.

Sure, Azkaban was dementor free thanks to Dumbledore and Voldemort's joint effort, but Hermione had the sneaking suspicion that she would still become as mad as Bellatrix Lestrange, and in half the time. When the dementors had guarded the prison there was always plenty to occupy Hermione's young and inquisitive mind, even if she was forced to relive her worst memories. The dementor's deflection to Voldemort left most of Azkaban's residents without any stimulation at all. Hermione was a special case. She had what they called therapy sessions, more thanks to Dumbledore. Sometimes she wondered if some had made the sessions into an excuse to attempt to humiliate her, degrade her. Somewhere inside Hermione's messy head was a phrase- anything was better than nothing at all, right?

"April first, this was written in your seventh year in Hogwarts, was it not?" The nasally voice asked. You'd think they would allow a change of scenery for torture sessions, but no, they remained in her cell. Hermione shook her head, yes. They must have been awfully stupid to not have realized by now that anything read to her from her journal would not make her squirm. She had come to terms with what she was a long time ago. Although once in a while she looked back at herself and could feel a little embarrassed at her younger, more naïve self being so exposed; her secrets being displayed. Try to save the house elves, indeed. But she rarely felt guilty.

"Lately I have been obsessed with the fictional character, Lord Sauron, and the much more real Dark Lord of our times; Lord Voldemort. I think part of the interest comes from the mystery and power surrounding both. There is so much potential, for gaining knowledge, for stories. So little is known about Voldemort. Complex? He is ruthless and probably heartless. Possibly his own God? People aren't born made, for any purpose, for good or for evil. They are both made and shaped or, they make themselves. What I am interested in is their transformations. I am rather interested in making one's self whether intentionally or coincidentally. There aren't reasons for everything. Sometimes, most of the time, things just happen. We are left to react, to decide what we will do. Part of the fascination comes from being interested in being ruthless myself. Also, I wonder how it would be and feel like to be heartless. Sometimes I wonder if I am on that path. Can someone who is completely heartless feel lonely?

"At the very least, I want to destroy or rid myself of anything that makes me vulnerable, any vulnerable part of me. Though even thinking about that at makes me sad, then angry. Sad, because that part of me that is vulnerable is also child-like. What fills in the places of yourself that you kill? I don't want to lose myself. I want to change. Change or die. I have been thinking about that lately. Adapt to survive or die in… pride, steadfastness, for whatever reason you won't change. And I see characteristics in the 'bad' character I would like to have myself. That doesn't mean I want to be evil or be someone else. I just want to grow and harden, to be able to protect myself. So that nothing can touch me except myself." The nasally voice stopped and Hermione looked up into the youngish face of the therapist.

"Hermione, do you think your unhealthy obsession was the result of yours' and Blaise's failed relationship. You were hurt and you didn't feel in control. You were left alone to hurt by yourself, you couldn't' stop that, and by that time you had alienated yourself from your friends."

Hermione, slumped in a chair, sat up straight and gave him a look of utter contempt, "Oh bravo!" She said sarcastically. She didn't have friends because she was disgusted by them. Not because she gave up her whole world for him. Right. Rationalize. Perhaps she had been waiting for him, another step in life, and she had been drifting away from her friends for quite sometime. He was just the final push.

Blaise would not have been attracted to her had she so carelessly thrown her life to him, like so many girls before her. No, he had fought for every inch and won.

"Well then, let's continue shall we?" It seemed to Hermione that the therapist had the unhealthy obsession, her journal.

"I really do wonder if it would be lonely. I only have one confidant right now and I'm not so lonely. Though, sometimes I cry for all that I lost and I know I will lose so much more. I can't honestly say I miss Ron. I could once. The bitterness I feel toward him and our entire situation lets me know that and reminds me often. I wouldn't feel bitter if I hadn't cared once upon a time. I guess I was hurt so much intentionally or unintentionally, it is difficult to miss that. Harry, he is a different story. I miss him very much. I ache for him, as a friend, and he hurts so much. There isn't a thing can do for him. Ron has always been better for Harry than I have. That in itself makes me sad. I hope they stick together. I hope they don't let petty differences separate them, or let Voldemort's chaos and discord, separate them. I hope it makes them stronger for each other.

"It is so difficult. I'm not even sure I can be what I want to be, or what I think I want to be. Thinking about a situation is different than being in a situation. As far as it goes and as far as I have tested myself, generally, I have more compassion for animals than human beings. Humans have more control over themselves and the lives they live. Freedom of choice. You can do anything you want; you can even choose not to accept the consequences, well, try to ignore them. I get so disgusted by people. People don't want to take responsibility for their beliefs or their actions. It is hard to feel sympathy for something you are disgusted by. It is even more difficult to feel sympathy for people or things I can't relate to. What does that say about what I have become?

"I am nervous to talk about this with anyone. I am scared of what they might say, the looks of horror on their faces confirming my suspicions. His face."

"Your journal entry ends there," said the therapist. "What suspicions did you have?"

Hermione glared at his soft face. She had always disliked much softness in a male. It was gross.

"Well, al-alirght," he stuttered. "How do you feel about what I've just read to you?"

"What do you want me to say?" Hermione demanded, in a voice scratchy from disuse. "What would you like to hear?"

"Hermione, dear," he said sleazily, "this isn't about what I want to hear. This is for you, for your well-being."

"Not it isn't, this is about people being arrogant enough to assume to know what is best for me, even in this hell-hole. This is a way to justify my sentence to this… place. This is a way to help the people who put me in here and all involved feel better about themselves. This is about them sleeping better at night and satisfying disgusting, insignificant, pathetic, curios people like you," Hermione spat out bitterly.

The therapist had the grace to be embarrassed. His cheeks flushed and he started fiddling with his quill. "Well, this show of anger, however misdirected is a good sign. You are angry about your lack of control. We are finished for the week, until next time."

He had no courage; he practically fled after having the 'last word'. Well, at the very least, he hadn't tried to justify her actions or thoughts to anyone this time.