A/N9: Craziness of Real Life and lack of motivation have driven my publishing schedule into the ground, so tonight I'm publishing Days Three and Four. Day Five needs some polish, so it'll be around next week sometime. Unless I get snowed in tomorrow, in which case it might pop up sooner.
Word Count: 511/?
Day Three
Severus didn't show his greasy face the next day. Harry did. And it was much worse.
He was outside the windows on his Firebolt, shiny and new as the day he received it from his illustrious godfather. He smirked at her, and waved his hand, curled around a golden Snitch.
Fear flooded her system, overriding every potion and spell.
"What the hell do you want from me, Harry James Potter?" the words exploded from her throat as her hands beat on the unbreakable glass window, leaving red prints behind, "Come back! I'll fucking kill you my bloody self!"
Hermione screamed until her throat had to be healed with magic, and fingernails torn from their beds from scratching the unbreakable glass. Those would have to grow back naturally, the healer tells her as he wraps her hands in heavy white gauze. Hermione is sure that it's simply a new way the sisters can assert control over every facet of life in this microcosm. Everyone had to get their jollies some way or the other.
Telling your shrink "I see dead people" is the entirely wrong thing to say, Hermione realized as she laid on her bed, dots swirling like stars in front of her eyes. Even if it's entirely true. And even if she didn't mean to say it in the first place, the words popping out as he offered her a piece of candy. Trust a shrink to use a Dumbledore-type manipulation method. Spontaneous answers through sweets. Maybe they should start using that technique at the Ministry.
It wouldn't have mattered if you said nothing, they would know anyway, a traitorous voice whispered in her head. The voice sounded just like Harry used to when he would drag her into a nearby closet for a quick shag.
It's a sad commentary on your love life if you thought that was romantic, Granger, A new voice scoffed, this one sounding just like Severus when he would offer dry commentary on the state of the war.
Exasperated, she groaned aloud, "Isn't it bad enough that I have Draco, Luna, and Ron all harping on my lack of love life - now you have to chime in, too?"
The new potion Healer Dingbat has pushed into her system via the sisters seem to be working, though. Well, somewhat. She hasn't seen Harry in over three hours. Severus she did see. Well, maybe she did. He was lurking around the hallway leading to the common room, but when she turned back to look, he had vanished.
And their voices never left her alone.
"Time for group therapy!" the ward chimed, rudely breaking her out of her doze.
"Go to hell," Hermione muttered instead, pulling her pillow over her head. For six whole minutes, she is left totally alone. No one prying into her psyche. No one pulling her into an insane conversation about frogs. No one wanting anything from her. Complete bliss.
It doesn't last, but Hermione has long gotten over the habit of expecting anything to last anymore.