Hermione:

"What are you thinking about?"

"My Mum."

"Go on."

"She…she didn't understand the war. Not at all. I explained to her and Dad the summer before my fifth year. But they don't…well…you know. She could understand the wars in America, with guns and bombs and casual deaths…but it was like, because she wasn't magic she didn't get it. She didn't take it seriously."

"I see."

"You do?"

"Yes."

"Oh. Well. Good."

She wrapped her sweater close around her chest. It was the only piece of clothing besides her hospital gown she was allowed to wear. Hospital pants and a scratchy thin shirt to match. Both were a light yellow, like her room. She had a new set to wear every day, and her sheets were constantly clean and smelling like roses.

Today her schedule was easy. She had her counseling and then she was allowed to read. But first, she had to take her pills. She could never forget to take her pills.

"Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"I think we're done for today. Do you want to go read?"

What did she want to do? Oh, right. She wanted to read. Of course. She smiled and nodded, her mind a thick haze. Concentrate on your book, she told herself.

Mark took her hand and helped her up from the chair. Her legs felt a bit wobbly but as soon as she took her pills it would get better. I thought I was going to go read? She shook her head. No. Pills. Got to go take my pills.

He opened the door and she walked out. The hallway seemed too far of a stretch but she made it. Her room, full of roses-a field of roses, and it was all hers.

She sat down on her bed and picked up the first jar of pills. She opened it, shook out a pill, screwed the cap back on and repeated for two more jars. She popped them all in and then took a sip of water. Then she waited.

It had been a week and she had grown used to the waiting. Waiting brought change. She waited for her pills to work and when they did she could sleep again. That was good.

Draco hadn't come to visit.

-X-

"Did you sleep well last night?"

"I did."

"Did you have any dreams?"

"I did."

"Tell me about them."

"Well, there was only one dream really…"

"That's ok."

She rubbed her arms, suddenly cold. St. Mungo's kept the insanity wing extra airy. As if noticing her discomfort, Mark got up and closed his office window.

"It all starts with me in the backseat, my Dad and Mum driving. But I don't know where too. And then we're going through a wind tunnel and suddenly the car is a convertible. The wind is rushing through my hair but I'm not excited. My Dad yells back to me, "See? It's all ok!" and then I'm the one driving. Except I don't know how to drive. And I crash into the side of the tunnel."

"Do you die?"

"No. But my parents do."

-X-

Today she's allowed to go outside. She chooses a bench that overlooks the rest of the patients exercising. It's refreshingly warm for the middle of September. She enjoys that. It's been two weeks since she's been admitted.

She sees a daisy coming up from a crack in the pavement, and even though it's wrong, she picks it out and rubs it between her fingers.

"Being different will get you nowhere, little guy." She whispers. "You should have grown out there with all of your friends."

She tilts her head back and lets the breeze ruffle her hair. She imagines she's back to that moment at the top of the tree, before she fell, where she could see everything. I'll be here forever, she thinks and puts her hands over her eyes.

-X-

"Not going to talk today, I see?"

She focuses on the individual wrinkles of Mark's face. How old is he? The parenthesis surrounding his mouth suggests somewhere in his forties, but his eyes still glimmer with the hope of someone in their twenties.

The truth is, she really doesn't want to talk today. It isn't Mark. It isn't the hospital. It isn't the presents her friends leave her or the jell-o in little plastic cups. It isn't anything in her life that is upsetting her. It's what she doesn't have. Or rather, who.

"Can I leave?" she finally manages to get out.

"See you tomorrow, Hermione."

And she knows it's true. She'll see Mark tomorrow, and the next day and the next until somehow, everything inside of her is rearranged and fixed.

-X-

She's sitting on the bench again, and it's not as warm as the other day, but that's OK. It's quieter today as well, and she's just thinking she might go inside when Ginny is standing in front of her.

"Afternoon." She says and bites her lip, as if unsure the phrase is appropriate to say in front of a crazy person.

"How's the real world?" Hermione finally asks and tries a small grin.

"Fine!" Ginny sings and moves to sit down next to her. It's pleasant for a bit, almost like old times. "Well, I don't know actually. The thing is…Harry and I…since…well…I don't know what we're fucking doing anymore. I mean are we going to get back together? Are we together right now? If so, are we about to break up?" She shakes her head a little and continues. "Sometimes I'll be thinking all of this and it's like he can read my mind. I really believe that. Is that normal? Is that…" she drifts off.

It's blindingly silent as Ginny realizes her mistake. She shrinks in her embarrassment. Hermione decides to just put it out there.

"You think that you're going mad so you've come to check what a real mad person looks like."

"No!" She immediately protests, and then sighs. "Yes."

Hermione turns to Ginny very suddenly and looks serious. She grabs her shoulders and looks directly at her. Ginny's eyes widen.

"Listen very carefully, Gin. You need to go to Lord Voldemort right now and ask him to forgive me. He's got my toilet pass, you see."

Ginny blinks once, twice and then they both laugh until Hermione feels like her sides will split.

"What are they fucking giving you?" Ginny smiles.

"Listen, Gin, in all honesty. Why don't you two just talk about it?"

"Oh, well…I don't know."

"I think we've made our problems very complicated, and Mark says-"

"Mark?"

"My counselor. He says that if we just learned to communicate, then nothing would be complicated anymore."

"That's not really how it works, Hermione."

"It could be."

-X-

"I want to focus on something different today."

"Go on." She teased. He smiled.

"Actually, I want you to tell me what you want to talk about."

She felt uncomfortable all of a sudden. In the two and a half weeks she had been talking with Mark, she had never talked about something without his prompting. She wasn't sure she knew how.

"I don't have anything I want to talk about."

"Sure you do. Every one does. Just…take a moment to think."

So she did. She thought about her day yesterday, and the safe, gray meatloaf she was forced to eat with the apple juice from a can. She thought about how her nails looked beaten down from chewing on the ends but she wasn't permitted to cut them or file them.

Mostly she thought about Draco. About silence. About how it was possible for the two to exist together. Even when they were schoolmates, they had verbally sparred all the time. There was never just silence. And yet…and yet…

"My boyfriend hasn't come and visited me. I don't think he's even my boyfriend anymore."

"Is that what you wanted to talk about?"

"No. I just wanted to say it."

-X-

"Look, Ginny, I'm not asking for much. I just want a damn fag."

"No. They aren't good for you."

"When has that ever stopped me?" Ginny stood up to leave, hugging Hermione tightly. "I know you have some on you." She growled.

"No I don't."

But she swore she could see Ginny light one as she walked away.

-X-

She lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling. She hated the ceiling. It was completely smooth; no tiles texture or color. As if a little color might make someone want to bash his or her skulls in. She was missing dinner just to think about how much she hated the ceiling.

What did the ceiling in her old flat look like? What did the ceiling in Draco's place look like? She had never noticed because she didn't think it was important. Now, however, she couldn't imagine anything she wanted to do more than go and look at his ceiling and just sleep.

Instead she closed her eyes and slept, staying exactly where she was.

-X-

"When do I get to go home? I want to talk about that today."

"You don't have a home anymore, as I recall. You sold your flat."

"I was living with my boyfriend in Ireland."

"And you think it's best to go back to that…environment?"

"He was doing nothing wrong! It was me that was fucked up, not him."

"Then I suppose you'll go home when you feel like you're ready."

-X-

"Tell me, when did this all begin?"

"When did what begin, Mark?"

"The feelings you are describing."

She knew where it all started but the words to express them lodged back in her throat. How could she express all of the sadness and loss she felt when it wouldn't make a difference? It wouldn't change things. She shook her head and kept silent. Not all things were easy to share.

-X-

"I brought you a book."

"Thanks, Harry."

She took the book from him. It was one she had been meaning to read for a while now. Smiling she flipped through the pages and watched the words appear and disappear like magic. All of their problems were solved at the end, but she didn't have that. Where was her ending?

Harry sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand. He was warm, almost sweaty, but in a nice way.

"Are you getting better?" he asked.

"Define better."

She hated when people asked her that. As if she could suddenly step outside herself and check all of her parts like a clock to see if they were working again. It didn't work that way.

"Hermione, I have to tell you something."

But then a large figure stepped in the door. She recognized the scent immediately, and even still…even after everything, her heart raced when she saw his face. She still loved him. It wasn't enough.

"Ron."

Harry looked up and got off the bed.

"I'll be back later." He said and left.

Hermione fidgeted uncomfortably and focused her gaze on the bumps that were her feet under blankets.

"So you're a loon now, yeah?"

"Yeah."

He smiled and sat down next to her. His hand found hers and tangled the two of theirs together. It was nice, she realized. They still fit together so perfectly.

"I love you anyways."

"I love you too."

His smile this time was sad, and she felt bad for the thoughts he was probably having.

"Tell me that we'll be together again."

"I can't."

"But you just-"

"Ron."

His face aged under the soft light of her room. She wanted to cuddle him and keep him safe from any more hurt, but that wasn't how things worked either. Sometimes in life you had to do what you could, and hope that it was good enough.

"I can't be without you."

"Don't tell me that. Don't do that to me. I went mad when I was with you! I can't do it again."

"You're making me mad, Hermione. And that's exactly what love is."

-X-

"I've been told you had a couple visitors yesterday."

"I did."

"How did that go?"

"It went, I guess."

"Hermione, you can't be closed off with me. You're not letting me help you make progress."

This made her unhappy. On the one hand, she wanted to be well enough to go out on her own but on the other, she just wanted to hold all of her secrets to herself. Sacrifices had to be made.

"Ok." She breathed. "It was miserable. I didn't get to see Harry for that long because my ex came and I still love him. But not enough to be with him, and certainly not as much as…Draco."

"You've never told me that you loved Draco before."

"Oh." She was startled for a moment and reached into her mind, pulling forth memories and thoughts. "I guess that's the first time I've admitted it to myself as well."

"Does he know you love him?"

"No. He doesn't love me so what would be the point of that?"

-X-

"What's the date, Mark?"

"It's October 4th, Hermione."

"I've been here a month."

"That you have."

"Sometimes it feels like I'll never leave."

He frowned and put down his pen for a moment.

"Progress isn't determined by time. We've discussed this multiple times."

"But it isn't fair that my progress is determined by time."

-X-

Harry came in when she was almost asleep. She was curled in fetal position and he lay beside her, spooning her tired frame. It was strange, but he seemed to know that she needed it. She exhaled in happiness and he pulled her closer.

"Please get better, babe." He whispered.