An: Hermione's ordeal has been brought on by teenage drama and her confusion surrounding her self-discovery, but the source of it is a personal issue that extends way back into childhood. Teenage drama and confused feelings do not instigate depression, without there already being a tender nerve to strike. Something they might not be aware of. That's what's happened here.

For a few chapters we'll switch between characters and location, telling two separate stories at once. We'll be with Hermione in Galway, Ireland and then Ilena/Joe/everyone else at Hogwarts. Hermione's narrative will carry a serious tone, and the Hogwarts narrative will be light-hearted and leave you with something to smile about.

Title song: Getting To Know You-Julie Andrews from the King And I. Oh yeah, we're time-jumping through music history, you must've noticed that at some point.

Hermione's POV

It's all a wee bit intense. I'm mentally sad, that's the simplified version. It's sadness, that's what's wrong with me. It might not be that serious. But it means I'm relocated across the British Isles, away from people I know besides my parents, with only a vaguely estimated time of how long I'll be here.

It's all very gorgeous. Galway. Greener than anything I've seen in my life, and I've seen the underwater glow of the Hogwarts dungeons. A bit of Robin Hood here, an emerald jewel there, and a bit of Kermit in-between. It contrasts with the ivory and slate-coloured rocks, mixing vibrancy with age. Ireland the island, separated from mainland Britain thousands of years ago, and it shows its independency strongly through colour. A beautiful country.

The OcclVision manor house took me by surprise. It's not what I expected. Granted I wasn't imagining a prisoner of war camp, or some broken-down hellish asylum, but I still expected something official and generic. Something that when you see it immediately says healthcare and institutional. It looks institutional alright, just in the wrong profession.

I've seen buildings like this pictured on magazines, the ones you'd find laying on the table in the waiting area of my parents dental practice. Leisure hotels. A couples retreat perhaps, or even honeymooners.

Yet it also kinda reminds me of the hotel from The Shining, not reassuring to think of it like that.

It's not a manor on the inside. No, on the inside it looks and acts more like a boarding school. Yes, your typical non-magical boarding school, exactly. It's like I've been transferred. But I know the only subjects I'll be attending are regarding the inner workings of my own mind.

I've got my own room, so not completely like a boarding school. It's not out-of-this-world in comfort or luxury, so not a leisure hotel either. It's ordinary, comfortable, cosy. I absolutely love it. I've even been told I can personalize it, I only need to request and thy wishes be fulfilled.

We've established the place is great. The look and style is remarkable. But what of the more important things; personnel, policies and procedures. Sweet looking places are renowned for being traps, the whole reason that the cliché 'too good to be true' exists.

So the people. There's general staff like my cockney chaperone friend. Maids, porters, cooks, laundry, gardeners, repairmen. There's even a mailman on the payroll, or woman. Their only job is to trek up to the owlery and deliver all the morning or evening post to each person's door. It's all a wee bit organised.

If you own a business in which you can pay an employee to deliver everyone's mail, instead of just letting owls deliver straight to the recipient, that's when you know your business is going great. Although I'm sure security and patient protection are more significant contributors to the necessity of that job.

Not that they call us patients. It doesn't seem to be in their vocabulary at all. They don't consider us sick, that's almost a derogatory term. We're ordinary people, extraordinary magical people, in our own personal suffering. They call us guests, and consideration doesn't appear to be cosmetic.

I haven't yet had a session with a mind expert, that's to come within the next hour or so, and they're very hard to find. That's not a bad thing, I shouldn't really be speaking to them outside an official visit. Not an official rule or anything, just a courtesy. Because they host around five or six sessions a day each, in a building that could host a hundred guests or more. We've got allocated time to say whatever we want to them, when they're on the clock and paid to listen. Yeah it's impersonal, but so are hospitals in a general sense, particulary in the Wizarding world where private time is considered currency.

I've hear through the grapevine a few bad words via those who have seen one, but I quickly deduce their irritation is misguided and corrupted. Unable to fight their pride and say the problem is with themselves. The vast majority are satisfied and complimentary of the expert mind healers.

I mentioned my parents, and they're practically with me all the time. They can't share my room, or even stay near to my suite. But they are able to stay on site, and see me whenever they wish to help me settle in. I must be one of the youngest guests here, because according to my parents the guests-of-the-guests quarters is occupied by only a handful of others. And most seem too old to have young children, in their eyes.

Of course in the Wizarding world, that doesn't mean a thing. That's also assuming they're not grandparents, or legal guardians. But we're getting sidetracked...

This past week I've been allowed to settle in and relax, treat it like a holiday. The depressive feelings might go away on their own, the softest cases probably just mean a person is exhausted to tears. Though I suspect I'm not going to have as easy of a ride as that.

I'm allowed to write to anybody I want once a day, but with the lack of anything really going on I've held back, unusual for me. I've written to Joe, Ilena and the boys only twice this week. Once to let them know I'm here and what's happening, and the second time to tell them what it's like and what I've been up to. Like I alluded to before, I can't receive my mail without it earning the approval of the staff.

I am a wee bit lonely. My parents are lovely, but should never substitute as your friend. Other parents may be different but particularly with mine, parents do too much and often overshoot on the caring thing. I just wanna talk normally, and not about how I feel.

I do try to talk to other pa...sorry, guests. But they're usually neck-deep in their own whirlwind of emotion and trauma. There's people with PTSD, and Bipolar disorder. Sometimes people who are mentally insane, but not criminally, are accepted here. Their problems are not my business, and sometimes it's safer for it not to be.

That doesn't mean they wouldn't mind a chat, but I can hardly empathise with them. Like I said, I'm just sad. They have issues so much more complex than mine. And there's the age thing as well, I'm still a child in their eyes. Seventeen? I might as well be ten.

It's all a little too lonely. And what ought to be good for me, having a week to settle in, I feel is detrimental to my condition. It's quite an isolated place as well, alone on an island in the middle of Galway Bay. Of course it's a magical place so needs to be out the way, but you can't even see mainland.

You would without the wards they put up, and what is so wrong about seeing land on the horizon. At least it's a sign you're not the only people on the planet, which is exactly how this place makes you feel. We're hardly even using magic, the likelihood of magic being exposed is more likely to occur at Hogwarts than it is here. It's all a wee bit ridiculous.

Above all though, it's all a wee bit nostalgic. I haven't been here before, the OcclVision place. But I've been to Galway. I've been all over Ireland and Northern Ireland in fairness. Isle of Man, Dublin, Belfast, Londonderry, Dundalk, Cork, Limerick, Sligo, Waterford. All around the outside of the island, but not too far into the middle.

And it's obviously not intentional, OcclVision just happen to be here. I'd rather believe that fate guided me here, than believe they moved an entire business and their guests to a place they somehow knew I loved dearly. Just so you know, I don't believe fate guided me either. It's just a coincidence.

But the fact remains that they couldn't have picked a better setting in the world to help me overcome my issues. The most wonderful memories I possess had me, my parents and grandparents, on a road trip in a VW camper van. I can't remember many specifics, just roads, different people and the fun we had.

We went on two road trips but they stopped when I was seven. The year my grandfather died. I haven't been back since, but I reckon I could take one step into mainland Galway and instantly feel the joy I felt back then. That'll be my next request, if I'm afforded one.

Normally I'm outside, making the most of the view and the consistently nice weather as of late. But my first session is soon to start, and I'd like to be easily found when it's time to be notified. Reception briefed me on where to go. For the moment I'm in my room, initially trying to read of course, but my gaze wanders away a lot because of the view from my window.

Ireland beats books, that's considered an upset.

There's the knock on the door, but as it turns out it's not regarding my session. "You've got post this morning Miss Granger. Three letters and a nice choccy for you."

The Irishman hands me a Galaxy bar, plus three envelopes underneath. Personal stash that Ilena smuggles into Hogwarts, and she always lets me have the Galaxy bar. She's not to be outshone, especially after Joe sent me a couple of liquorice wands the other day.

"Thank you Clark, I will write my responses later after my session" I can't keep the nervousness out of my voice.

"Don't look so petrified, I promise you there's not a single dragon amongst our awesome experts, except for maybe Gladys but she only looks like a dragon."

He's a failsafe method for putting smiles on faces, but a stand-up comedian couldn't eliminate all my worries at the moment. "It's not them that worry me, it's what they'll uncover about myself."

"Nobody deserves to be qualified if they can't guarantee complete disinterest, judging people doesn't exist here" He assures me.

"Again, it's not them whose ridicule I fear" I think the still image of me gazing distractedly at the letters collected in my hand, answers his unasked question.

"That's just daft" Clark responds.

"Oh I know. Ridiculous because I know their support is guaranteed no matter what. But I know behind all that support and sympathy, there's confusion. They can't understand why I'm so unhappy, and I don't want them to think I've known all along, lied to them."

Clark smiles warmly, suddenly it doesn't seem so ridiculous. "I meant daft as in the choice of wording. No friend of yours can call themselves a friend if they "ridicule you". But your fear isn't daft at all. It's not something I haven't seen thousands of times before. The doctors are the official experts, but everybody who works here quickly become experts on people."

I know I'm supposedly depressed, but still I don't want to keep acting hard done by. " I hope I'm not coming across as a victim too much."

Clark sniffs in amusent, his warm Irish eyes have the same effect on me as childrens laughter. "If you were giving me that impression I wouldn't blame you for it. But you're not. It's obvious that someone who gets support like you have, must've done ridiculous amounts for other people."

I don't know about ridiculous, how much was ridiculous in units of caring? "My mum used to tell me there's no such thing as doing too much."

"With all the respect in the world to her, she couldn't be more wrong. When it's affecting your needs too much, it's a sign that you need to put on the brakes. Nobody would begrudge you, I know that much."

If the staff themselves have such honourable insight, what wonders am I in for with the actual experts? I think he must be thinking along the same lines, the Irish confidence has fallen away for awkwardness to settle in. "Look at me, stalling you right before your first session, I won't keep you any longer."

This calls for a friendly hug, it puts him at ease and also me as well. And I haven't had a friendly hug in days. Parental ones don't count, though also lovely. "It's been good having you around Clark, you be sure to follow your own advice and look after yourself."

When we pull away his eyebrows crook in a pretend accusatory fashion. "Whatever people have been saying about me, it's all lies."

I slyly smile "So not all good things then, I stand corrected."

He winks and does that cheeky clicking noise with his mouth, you know the one, sounds like he's cocking a gun. It doesn't go as smoothly as he wants it to be. "Later Alligator."

"In a while Crocodile" Thank god he's leaving just as it was starting to get weird.

A few minutes later, Dr Weobi's room,Dr Weobi's POV

"What 'H' is the name of a European city famous for the most amount of bridges?" The radio gameshow presenter asks, to the contestant tuning in. Not me because I'm busy, as you can tell.

"Hamburg" It's got like two thousand or more. Footbridges, railbridges, river bridges, canal bridges. Loads. It's not as obvious for the contestant, who I can literally hear scratching his head. "Errrr... European city...letter H...bridges. Is it..."

"Gonna have to push you buddy" the presenter urges.

"Come on, Hamburg, it's Hamburg". Even if you don't know about the bridges, anyone should be able to guess Hamburg as a city beginning with H.

"Hull"

Bloody Hull! Really!?

"I'm sorry Warren, that's the wrong answer. The correct answer was Hamburg."

Blooming fool. He sounds a nice guy, but anyone who thinks Hull as an answer to a question about Europe, is a little bit foolish. Otherwise they would've said 'British' or even 'English' city, European is a too big pool to dip into for an answer like Hull.

"That means that Warren skips a go, the money's up for grabs for you...Sandra" The presenter moves the quiz along. She got the last one wrong, but was a little unlucky.

"Letters available to you Sandra: A, C, F, R and T. Take your pick."

"Could I have 'T' please?"

"You certainly may, the kettles just boiled, but the letter first if you please...ha, just kidding Sandra" Wow, never heard that one before Mr Regurgitated Material. "What 'T' is an element of the Periodic table, symbol W?"

"Tungsten" I chirp. Easy one for a champion of Science. Yes, I'm a witch but I am Muggle educated, half-blood father.

"It's not Tin, can't think of other elements beginning with...oh wait, Tungsten."

Good form Sandra. "That's the correct answer."

"Mrs Weobi?" Oh Merlin, scared the life out of me. "Sorry Ma'am but your 1:30 is waiting, and your two minutes over already."

Tis right, I've done it again. Damn quiz brain. "Thank you Audrey, let our guest know of my sincerest apologies, and invite her in."

"Yes Maam."

The radio is off and I allow myself a little guilty wince, most unprofessional to be caught out once, but this was by no means the first time. I'm a good doctor really.

A pretty, curly-haired brunette enters the room, looking every bit as nervous and unenthused as almost every other guest to have stepped foot inside. "Good afternoon, I apologise once again for my tardiness, just a bit of overhang from my last session."

Yes it's a blatant lie, but I've already acted unprofessionally, and it wouldn't be wise nor professional to admit to it needlessly.

I'll say it again...I'm a good doctor.

"That's alright. I hardly even noticed" She replies honestly.

"Do please take a seat, would you like anything to drink?" I ask, better make sure there's enough of everything, I know I'm running low.

She looks stunned. "Drink?"

"Yeah, Coffee? No tea, I can tell" I can't really, I just know I'm low on coffee.

"Err, just water please" She modestly requests.

I pour her a cup from the jug on my desk. "There. Right, let me properly look at your administration notes. You were present when these were checked correct?"

"I confirmed everything they wrote down, all the information is correct" Nice, she's a natural speaker. That's refreshing.

"Very well" Glasses on, making this refined African woman look absolutely goofy. "Your name is Hermione Granger. Born September 19th 1989. Living at 115 Taunton Avenue, Oxford. Muggle-born. Sixth year Gryffindor student. Referred by Albus Dumbledore as a sufferer of mild to moderate levels of depression."

She nods her head, ashen-faced. Not a person happy to hear the hard truths spoken so matter-of-factly. It is only a referral, so by no means fact at all. "Relax, there has not been a diagnosis. I will know one way or the other by the end of the week, which means you could be back studying by Monday."

There was a glint of relief in her eyes, an avid learner. She wants to be back to school yesterday, but it doesn't light up her face. I recognise this as something that usually embodies her, but can't quite express it as naturally as she should.

The eyes say everything even when the body and mind can't. And there is a trademark case of it here. But there's plenty of hope, because I was able to see that glint. I only become concerned when I can't read their eyes.

"Have you been filled on what to expect in the coming weeks?" Usually they know every detail and I'm just repeating what they already know. In other words, wasting my breath and time. The general staff have no problems answering questions, and they get a lot of them.

"Vaguely. I know there's a couple of weeks of one-to-one to try and treat me therapeutically, and when that fails there's the Occlumency route. To be honest, I just can't believe I'm here."

Nobody can, but those with pride will always take this whole experience that little bit harsher. It does make it more difficult when one's confidence is virtually demolished. "Life was good a few days ago wasn't it?"

Oh dear, another person who hates to appear ungrateful. It's a testimony to how inexperienced some people are with mental illness, how utterly not understandable it was to them. Life is often great right before this hellstorm hits, it's almost like the mind decides it's undeserving of such contentedness.

Obviously that wasn't the case. Dormant feelings or memories can be triggered at any time, and that's the real truth. Serious troubles will make you display it for the world to see, but the trigger is more often than not the most subtle of influences.

Behaviour was the consequence, the explosion. The trigger is the spy that sneaks in and detonates the bomb.

"I've got people all around me. My life isn't dull or boring. I'm learning and succeeding. Things are going great in general. I have no reason to be..."

Can't even say it, that's how much this has shocked her system. "Depressed?"

Just a small nod, got to get rid of all this shame. That's seventy percent of the recovery in all honesty, just learning to accept what's happened and not blaming themself for it.

"You hear this all the time right?" Hermione asks for confirmation.

"More like everytime. 'I can't believe I'm depressed' says everybody ever who it inflicts. But did you know that it's almost a guarantee that humans will develop depressive symptoms in their lifetime, and eighty percent of the time we cure ourselves before we even realised how we felt."

Hermione thinks it over. "It sounds like a statistic people use that sounds believable, but in reality is overexaggerated."

"Yes it does have the ring of utter bull to it, but I can refer you to the globally corroborated study that says depression is the consequence of a chemical imbalance in the brain. A few neurotransmitters too little creates that imbalance, which is precisely why people who claim they have no reason to be depressed, become depressed."

Hermione soaks that in, reading deeper into my words than most would do. "Are you saying you are not going to try and find out why? Just cure me?"

"Of course not, if only it was that simple. But it's good to remember that what's happening to you is completely natural. Your brain is in control of your emotions, it tells you how to perceive information and pictures. When its conditioned in some way to feeling more sad than happy, that's called imbalance. Your body and consciousness might not ever know this imbalance is happening which is why you can still smike and be oblivious to your health."

"But all I've received is love and support, I have very little bad memories. How has my brain been conditioned if all I know is happiness and satisfaction?" Hermione enquires, eyes glued to her fingers as if she's trying to detect poison in her veins.

"If you want those answers we'll discover them together, but we can't have you holding back. No being in denial, limit the amount of negativity that you can control. Your secret feelings are not affecting you currently, you are adding to your misery every time you think bad of yourself or the situation."

"I know. I'm trying but..." She trails off. 'But it's not that easy', it isn't. Easy for me to say, but hard for her to deliver.

"We'll get to the hard stuff later. This week it's about getting to know you. The everyday you. Basically forget I am your doctor this week, I'm your best pal. And as you're an intelligent girl you must be into quizzes right?"

Her body loosens and she sits a tiny bit more confident in her seat. "Depending on the subject, I'm very good at quizzes. Like everyone I suppose"

"Don't play mind games, I don't want to expect to beat you and get my hide handed to me instead" Wow, I only just realised the irony. Mind games played on me.

Hermione smiles, and cheekily I might add. She definitely was underplaying her competence. "General knowledge?"

"You're Muggle-born, you must've seen Blockbusters"

"I know it, but we prefer to watch Who Wants To Be A Millionaire in my family" Hermione admits.

"Who doesn't. The only thing is...I don't have the Millionaire boxset available, so it's Blockbusters or nothing" Don't say anything about why I really keep it in my office. Only Muggle guests has ever actually watched Blockbuster's with me.

No, it's not all because I want to watch it. She'll get a kick out of it, which always helps. "I wondered why you had a TV in here. Must make the time fly when guests are expected." She's onto me now, though I think my crimes are safe with this one.

"Do us the honour Miss Granger of turning it on, the disc is already inserted."

An: I'm probably making a mockery of psychiatry, I can only apologise.But I looked up chemical imbalance on an official mental health site so my information is simply repeating what's already out there.

Back at Hogwarts in the next chapter.