Hermione's parents were sitting on the couch. They both looked extremely serious and reproachful.
Hermione sighed as she sat in the chair across from them. She had feeling she knew what was coming.
"We'd like to talk to you," her mother said calmly.
"I'm sorry," Hermione said immediately, "But I just don't think I can talk to you two about this . . ."
"We know," her mother said, "That's why we think it would be best if you went to see a psychiatrist. We think you do need to talk to someone about this."
After a moment, Hermione shook her head, and tried to keep her voice reasonable, "How am I supposed to talk to a stranger about this . . ?"
Her father spoke this time, "We'd like you to at least try, and go to the first session. If you decide it really doesn't work, we promise we won't make you go again."
Hermione didn't say anything. She had a feeling it was unlikely that there was anything she could say to get herself out of this. Besides, she would only have to go to one session.
Later that night, there was a tapping on Hermione's window. When she looked up, she saw Hedwig outside.
"Back already?" She muttered to herself, getting out of bed. She hadn't expected a response until tomorrow, especially not from Harry.
When she retrieved the letter, Hedwig left almost immediately. Hermione was glad she didn't expect a reply so late.
When she opened the letter, she found that it wasn't from Harry.
Hermione-
Don't tell Harry but I've borrowed Hedwig; she's much more reliable than Pigwidgeon.
Ron told me what happened. I can't even believe that disgusting parasite of a person would do something like that! I'm going to tell every girl I know to stay away from him! But I promise I won't tell anyone what happened.
Also, he told me you won't be back for week. I'll miss you.
I really hope you're doing well, and feeling better.
-Ginny
Hermione smiled. Strangely, it felt good that Ginny knew. Perhaps because she was sure Ginny would be able to convince the rest of the girls at Hogwarts to stay away from Cormac, if she couldn't.
When Hermione's parents told her they wanted her to speak with a psychiatrist, she didn't realize it meant they had made an appointment for her in the afternoon of the next day. Especially since they didn't tell her until that morning.
Because her dad had to go to work, it was just her and her mum in the car.
After a long silence in the car, her mum spoke, "I know you don't want to talk about it, but I at least encourage you to tell someone who did it."
"Ron already told Dumbledore, and McGonagall, who did it, so . . . don't worry."
Her mum looked confused, "Ron? Weasley? I thought you weren't speaking with him . . ?"
"I am now." Hermione said shortly. She didn't feel like explaining the whole story to her.
"Oh," her mum could tell she wasn't in the mood for talking, "Well . . . that's good."
Neither of them spoke again, until they arrived at the building that the office was in.
"I have a few errands I need to run," her mum said, "but if you want, I could go in the waiting room with you, and stay until she's ready to see you?"
Hermione sighed, "No, its fine. What floor is it?"
"Third." she answered, "Are you sure you'll be fine?"
"Yeah," Hermione nodded, then got out of the car.
"See you in an hour," her mum said before she could close the door. She waited until Hermione walked through the front door of the building before driving off.
The lobby of the building was sickeningly generic for a place where psychiatrists worked. The walls were salmon-pink, there was a rather loud fountain in one of the corners, and some eerie new age music was playing from an unseen source. She was grateful the music didn't follow her into the elevator.
The third floor was fortunately a lot simpler. Plain white walls, plain grey chairs, and a small table with random magazines sitting on top. There were two doors leading into the waiting room, one on each side of the room.
Sitting down in one of the chairs, she picked up one of the magazines. It took her a moment to remember that the pictures in these magazines shouldn't be moving.
One of the doors opened, and Hermione looked up, but it was just a girl, around her age, exiting one of the offices.
She went back to her magazine, but then the girl spoke, "Hermione? Hermione Granger?"
Hermione looked up. She did vaguely recognize the girl. She quickly tried to rack her brains for a name, but nothing came up.
"It's Genie. Genie Ross."
"Oh, right. Good to see you!" That was a lie, of course. Hermione remembered comparing Pansy Parkinson to this girl in her first year at Hogwarts. Pansy was just less subtle with her insults.
"You too," Genie said in a sugary voice, "Wow. I haven't seen you since-what was it?-sixth year? What happened to you?"
"Oh, I was accepted into a boarding school . . . in France . . ."
"Oh, really? What's it called?"
Hermione thought for a second, "Er . . . Madam Maxime's School for Young Women."
"Ouch," she said, "An all girls' school? I would just die!"
Sure you would, she thought bitterly, "Well, there's a boy's school pretty close by, so it's not that bad."
"Oh. Well that's good." Then after a moment, Genie said, "So, what are you in for?"
"I'm sorry?"
"Well, you must have done something to get sent back all the way from France, then have to come see a psychiatrist?"
Immediately, Hermione wanted to tell this girl that it was none of her business, but instead she said, "What did you do?"
"I was caught shoplifting," she said as casually as telling the time of day, or commenting on the weather, "You?"
Hermione let out a breath, "The only thing I did wrong, was agree to go on date with this guy . . ."
Genie raised her eyebrows, "Oh. Weird. Well, I think my mum's probably waiting for me in the parking lot. See you later."
With that, she left, and Hermione thanked God that "see you later" was just an expression.
When five minutes of mindlessly flipping through the muggle magazine had passed, the door opposite the door Genie had come out of opened, and a lady with dark brown hair, dressed in business-casual attire came out. "Hermione Granger?" she asked.
When Hermione nodded, she said, "Hi, I'm Virginia Brady."
Silently, Hermione stood up and followed her into the office. It was painted white. On one end there was a grey armchair, with several black and white photographs of flowers, fences, and bikes above it, and on the other end there was a gold love seat, with a giant painting of a bare tree above it. On the wall that the door was on, there were many framed certificates. There was a plant in one corner, and a small table with a phone and a note pad. Hermione hoped that she wouldn't be writing down everything that was said.
"Please, have a seat," Virginia said, gesturing toward the love seat. She sat in the armchair herself.
"So . . . you're parents told me why they wanted you to come here. What are your thoughts on this?" She said, once Hermione was seated.
She looked up at her, "On . . . what, exactly?"
"Well, when this happens to some people, it can take weeks for them to come forward and tell someone about it, and, according to your parents, this happened to you just two days ago. What made you decide to tell someone?"
Hermione swallowed, "Well, actually a friend convinced me to tell someone . . ."
"And what convinced you to tell your friend?"
"Oh-um-well, I wasn't actually planning on telling him . . . he sort of got it out of me."
Virginia cocked her head to one side, "Can you tell me the whole story?"
Hermione bit her lip and said to her lap, "Um, well, right after . . . I went to the library-the school's library-and he found me in there. We were-sort of-in a fight at the time, so he said something sarcastic about my date with the person who . . . anyway, then I almost started crying, and, I guess he felt bad, so he . . . eventually got me to tell him what happened."
Virginia smiled, "He must really care about you, to be trying to figure out what's wrong, and convincing you to seek help, even if you two are in a fight?"
"Well he has been one of my best friends since I was twelve," She said immediately.
"How did you two become friends?"
Hermione wondered what this had to do with why she was there, but otherwise decided to go along with it and answer, "He saved me from a troll-I mean he . . . defended me when this person-a troll of a person-was making fun of me."
Virginia nodded, "And . . . is he a rather passionate friend?"
Hermione furrowed her brow, "Um . . . well, I suppose he can be, at times. He definitely cares about his friends-and his family." She felt this conversation was getting off topic.
"What was his reaction when you told him what happened to you?"
The corners of Hermione's mouth turned up, but only the slightest bit, "He was actually really upset. He threatened to tell someone unless I did myself. Thinking about now, though, I can't say I blame him. He also . . . tried beating up the person who did it. I mean, it wasn't the smartest thing he's ever done, but . . . still."
After an awkward pause, in which Hermione wondered if Virginia could tell she was finish talking, Virginia said, "Can you tell me the whole story of what happened?"
She thought for a moment. She didn't know exactly what Virginia was looking for. In the end, Hermione decided she'd rather tell the story, than admit it was almost painful to repeat everything, "Well, this . . . guy . . . he came up to me one night, and suggested we . . . hang out sometime. I eventually agreed, just to get him to stop bothering me. The next night he took me down by the lake-near the school-and we were just sitting under a tree, talking. No one was around . . ."
She stopped talking. She figured Virginia could tell what happened after that, without her having to go into explicit detail.
Virginia thought for a moment, "What was your relation with this person before you agreed to hang out with him?"
"Um, well, I've only seen him around my school before. He has talked to me a couple of times. Also, we were both in this . . . club that one of the teachers started for, apparently, brighter students."
"So you weren't particularly close with him?"
"Not at all."
Virginia asked Hermione many more questions as the session continued, and Hermione answered, whether reluctant to or not. Finally, almost an hour had passed.
"Well, our time for this session is almost up, but before you have to go, I just want to tell you that what you have been through is a very traumatizing experience, and you have been handeling it very bravely. Also, no matter what has happened to you, it shouldn't change who you are as a person. If you'd like to meet again, or even just talk on the phone, please feel free to call me, okay?"
As they both stood up, Virginia smiled and handed Hermione a business card.
She nodded and took it, even though she had no intention, whatsoever, of calling. This whole experience had been awkward enough, and it wasn't like she had felt any better than before the session started.
Down in the parking lot, her mum was already waiting for her.
"How did it go?" she asked, when Hermione opened the car door.
Hermione looked up at her mum, "You said I wouldn't have to go again, right?"
She frowned, "No . . . but was it really that bad?"
"It felt like a waste of time," Hermione sighed, "And it was really awkward talking to a stranger about all of this."
Neither of them said anything for a good five minutes after that.
Then her mum asked, "You said Ron told your professors who did it, right? How did he know who did it?"
Hermione sighed again, "Because . . . I was-sort of-supposed to be on a date with that guy, when it . . . it happened. Then afterward, he found me in the library . . . and he got me to tell him what happened."
"You're not mad at him for telling them, are you?"
"No," she said, "I'm not mad."
"Good," her mum half-smiled, "I've always liked that Ron. He seems like a good kid."
sorry its been a while, hope you liked this chapter. short, i know :\ but please review!