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Depression and Recollection

Hermione woke to the faint chirping of birds, happily singing their welcome to another bright and sunny day. The world is happy and cheerful today, sheobserved, everything I'm not, haven't been and never will be since I married the professor. Hermione did a mental tally in her head and realised that their union was only a babe of three months. To her, it had felt like a bitter, old witch living with three decades of rheumatism, complete with cranky tempers and creaking joints. Hermione allowed herself another few minutes of musings. Then, abruptly, she flung herself off the bed and went into the shower. She did not spare a glance for the missing person who, by right, should be sleeping right next to her. Hermione was unconcerned. She knew that the professor always woke up before her. What he did for the rest of the day before nighttime she never knew and never bothered to find out. Hermione thought she was probably the most unloving wife in the whole wizarding world, but she did not care. After all, she was in all possibility, the most unloved spouse in the whole world.

Hermione turned the shower on and allowed the healing power of a hot shower to wash over her. Feeling content with the caress of water trickling over her body, she pushed the depressing thoughts aside and relaxed, knowing that this was the only time she would feel any peace with herself. Hot showers: My remedy to all the world's problems. I should write a book on that subject, she thought, and smiled at her own naivety.

Half an hour later, and feeling considerably better, Hermione approached the Great Hall where she knew Harry and Ron would be waiting for her at their usual seats. Spotting them, she walked over and sat next to Ron. Both boys turned to greet her. "Hermione!" they chorused in unison. Hermione was genuinely happy to see her best friends, but she knew that by the time breakfast ended, her cheerful mood would have vanished, and depression would slowly coax her into its arms. It always did, and it always began when Harry and Ron turned their conversations to Quidditch. Hermione never begrudged them their morning ritual; Merlin knew that both boys, Harry especially, needed the distraction from the constant danger lurking outside the haven that is Hogwarts, forever watchful for a wrong move on their part so that it could attack and destroy their world. Resigning herself to the inevitable, Hermione detached herself from their enthusiastic chatter and allowed her thoughts to run wild. And run wild it did.

She thought of love, and how it could never be for her. Years ago, her twelve-year-old self had planned the perfect wedding for when the time comes for her to marry the man she loves. She had even decided on the flowers to be included in her bridal bouquet, down to the last lavender. Yet she had, willingly, thrown all her dreams away in a decision made after one meeting with Harry and Ron in an empty classroom…

Flashback

"Hermione…" a familiar voice whinged, "why are we here? It's lunchtime and I'm hungry. Can't we talk after lunch, please?"

Hermione glanced fondly at her best friends as Harry hit Ron in the back of his head, effectively silencing the redhead. Harry had always been the better observer of her moods and consequently, was more receptive to what she usually left unsaid. Undoubtedly, he had caught the tension currently radiating off her in copious amounts and he was aware that Ron's complaints were as helpful as Hagrid in a potions classroom right now.

"What is it, Hermione?" Harry asked softly. He recognised bad news when he saw one and Hermione had 'tragedy' written all over her face. Even Ron looked at her with some concern now that he finally sensed the undercurrents swirling in the empty classroom.

Hermione looked at her friends calmly. She promised herself she would not become hysterical when she broke the news to them. "The Dark Mark. They found one over my parents' house. They're dead now, but I can't go back for the funeral. Dumbledore thinks they will come for me."

Finishing that little speech on which she congratulated herself for not stammering over, Hermione impassively observed her friends reactions. Ron looked shocked, his mouth agape. Hermione imagined him drooling, but could not find it in her to do more than give a tight little smile. And Harry. It almost broke her heart to see the guilt and sorrow in his eyes as he turned away from her. He blamed himself.

Hermione allowed the two of them a little more time to absorb the hook before she threw the line at them, "Oh, and you know the Ministry's Marriage Law? (She was aware of her wavering control) The one that forces people to marry and allow wizards to marry a second wife? (Harry and Ron nodded dumbly) I received an offer this morning from Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy, that is. Seems like he needed a second wife. So he chose me. He thinks that the Dark Lord can use me as a bait to get you, Harry." Hermione felt a twinge of guilt as she blurted out the last part unintentionally. She had not wanted to sound as though she blamed her friend.

Hermione never thought that Ron's mouth would drop any lower, but it did. Wait till you hear the rest of it, Ron, she thought bitterly, ten galleons your jaw's going to hit the floor. She added in a non-committal voice, "I didn't want that, of course, so Dumbledore offered me an alternative: I could marry Snape. He said it would keep me safe from the clutches of Malfoy. He said he would talk to Snape after I've made my decision. But I said no. What do you guys think of all that?"

Hermione gave herself a mental pat on the back as Ron's mouth opened just a little more. That's why they call it the sinker, she thought, your mouth tries to sink to the ground.

End Flashback

She remembered exactly what they thought of the whole business. Harry was so guilty, he had apologised over and over again. She never accepted his apology. Hermione was not sorry for being Harry's friend even though it had put her in numerous dangerous situations; in fact, Ron and his friendship mattered to her more than anything in the world now that her parents are dead. She even thanked the troll silently for bringing the three of them together in their first year. They had calmly discussed her options and she had come to the conclusion that there were no alternatives: Harry and Ron did not like the idea of her marrying Snape, and she hated the notion that she would reject the one solution to keep herself safe and prevent Harry and Ron from worrying. Merlin only knew that Harry has enough burdens on his sixteen-year-old shoulders, strong and broad as they are. Hermione remembered their first confrontation with Sirius in their third year, during which the three of them still laboured under the misconception that Sirius had meant his godson harm. She had been prepared to die then to protect her friends then. Now Hermione realised that she would do anything to keep Harry and Ron safe, and a twelve-year-old's wedding dreams seemed like a perfect sacrificial lamb to that burning desire. As long as she was safe, Harry would not rush off to rescue her like he did Sirius in the Department of Mystery.

Later, Harry and Ron had urged her to join them for what remained of the lunch hour, but Hermione had declined, citing a need to be alone as her excuse. When she could no longer hear their fading footsteps, she left the classroom and headed towards Dumbledore's office for what would be her second meeting with the headmaster that day.