Hermione:

It had been five weeks before she was able to admit anything significant to Mark. It was a Friday, and she was thinking about how Ginny was coming to visit her later. Mark watched her pull at her cuticles, wincing when a long strip peeled away like the skin of an apple.

"Hermione." He said.

"Mark."

He waited for her to stop before continuing.

"I want to talk about Draco today."

She didn't say anything but her mind moved in a thousand different directions.

"Tell me about when you first met him."

"I've told you this before."

Mark shook his head and took her hand between both of his.

"Not in Ireland. In Hogwarts."

"Oh."

And so she told him about Malfoy, Draco Malfoy, and how he introduced her to the term Mudblood every time he saw her.

"And you love this boy?"

"I love that man." She corrected. "I know it sounds strange, but he isn't the same. I think it's because his father is in Azkaban and he has the freedom to be who he wants." She bit her lip. "And maybe I had some influence on him."

Mark didn't have anything else to say after that.

-X-

"Ginny, I really don't think that-"

"When did Hermione Granger become so afraid of breaking the rules?" Ginny teased and pulled off her shirt.

"I've always hated breaking the rules!" she bleated angrily. "Just because I'm sodding crazy now doesn't mean I have a different personality!"

A spray of water showered the front of Hermione's shirt as Ginny catapulted herself into the lake that was at the bottom of the hill facing her room's window.

"Hermione." Ginny said when she had bobbed back up to the surface. "You're the one that wanted to get away from St. Mungo's for the afternoon-"

"Yeah, get away, not kicked out!"

Ginny frowned and stayed in one place, looking up at Hermione's trembling form.

"Something wasn't working for you." She whispered. "I'm trying to help you fix that."

As she looked down at her friend, who was dripping wet but had a big, imploring grin on her face, she couldn't help but smile herself. It was as if they were at Hogwarts again, in the Room of Requirement, throwing jinxes at each other and laughing.

She took her shirt off before she could second-guess herself, and then her pants and socks, which she stuffed in her shoes. The water was ice cold and she almost regretted jumping in until Ginny dunked her head under and all she could see were Ginny's tiny feet.

"Ginny!" she squealed and splashed her friend.

"Come on Hermione!" she said and started to swim to the opposite side of the lake. "Race you!"

Without even a warning, she sped off, her head rising and falling beneath the surface. Hermione followed, happily kicking her feet and wishing this were every day instead of simply this day.

-X-

She was reading on the porch, her legs folded under her and smiling faintly. They let her outside more now. As long as she took her medicine-and she always did. The medicine had started to make her woozy-sleep and unfocused. She didn't like it-especially considering how routine it had to be, but she wanted so badly to leave.

"Hey there." A voice said, and an unfamiliar one at that. She looked up, and there was George-tall, freckled and handsome.

"George!" she got up without thinking, wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him close to her. He moved his hands up and down her back in comforting circles.

"I heard you're in the mad house now Hermione, but I had to see it to believe it!" he mussed her hair and grinned.

"I'm a real nutter." She said, returning his grin.

He sat down and she followed. Her seat was still warm from before, but the air was getting colder as the month went on.

"So." He said.

"So…"

He folded and unfolded his hands, producing a deck of cards from nowhere.

"Play me a game?"

"Sure."

He shuffled the cards in quick succession, and she thought about how her Dad used to do it the same way. He had never let her shuffle in case she bent the cards. "It's just paper, Dad" she'd say, but it never changed.

The game they played was quiet, but she knew as soon as it was over he'd have more to say. She won, or he let her win, she wasn't sure. And then, as quickly as he had dealt them, he put them away and tucked them in his pocket.

"I'm not sure how to say what I have to say."

She looked at him, her eyes widening. She had no idea what he wanted to say to begin with-like his magic tricks he had come almost out of thin air.

"Just…be honest, I guess."

He exhaled, his breath making a tiny fog in the air, a promise of winter around the corner.

"When I found out that you tried to…commit suicide, I have to admit I was surprised. I mean, Hermione Granger, trying to off herself? It didn't seem plausible. You were always-are, so brilliant. You had everything sorted out. Then I was worried-no one mentioned if you had succeeded or not, but I didn't know how to ask. Eventually, I found out you were here and I wanted to come visit. But I think…I mean I know, that mostly I'm angry."

She breathed in sharply. She hadn't dealt with much anger in over the month that she had been at St. Mungo's.

"Angry?" she whispered.

"Yes. Angry." He rubbed his face vigorously with his hands and then looked back at her. "Hermione, some of us don't get a choice if we live or die. Like Fred…like Tonks and Remus…like Dumbledore." He tried smiling then, to take off the edge. "The nicest way to put how I feel is…you should value your life more. I won't pretend I know your problems…and I won't act like some of them aren't possibly bad enough that you don't want to live anymore…but damnit, you should want to live! You've been given a gift…you survived a war. Now keep on surviving."

-X-

"Honestly, Hermione, I can't see a reason to keep you here any longer."

She could feel her skin vibrate with happiness. The possibility that she could be free…that she could run around and live her life again was almost too much.

"So I can leave?"

"Not quite."

Her heart fell. She was surprised you couldn't hear it thump as it hit the bottom of her stomach. She knew he was waiting for her to ask why but she didn't want to give him the satisfaction.

"I have my reasons."

"I'm sure you do." She said coolly.

"I fear that you don't have enough out there to support you. No job or home…the emptiness and lack of routine would overwhelm you and send you backs here."

"I don't think so."

"Well then, tell me. Where will you go?"

She found that she could not answer. It was true she didn't have anything waiting for her anymore, but she was sure she could find something. Anything really would do.

"I'll just go." She said finally, with a hint of her old assurance and was satisfied with her answer.

-X-

She was having a bit of down time when Ron walked in. She hadn't seen him in weeks, but they had left on an okay note.

She put down her book and looked at him pointedly.

"Hello." He said.

"Hi."

He shuffled his feet nervously and she gestured for him to sit down. He chose the chair near the window, one that she had taken to using when she wanted to watch people outside.

"I heard you're feeling better."

She laughed. "You people certainly are fascinated with that idea."

"I'm happy for you."

"I'm happy for me too."

"Listen, Hermione, I came here for a reason." She waited until he finally cleared his throat and began speaking. "I realize we'll never be more than friends, and I'm ok with that. It's for the best. But you need me…and I'm willing to help."

"Help?"

"Come live with me-with all of us. At The Burrow. I know you're probably thinking that it'll be awful and I'll be…me…but…remember when I skipped out on you and Harry all those years ago? I'm not going to skip out on you again."

She contemplated it in her mind and then, her eyes shut, she made a decision.

"Ok."

-X-

Mark was sitting on that awful gray armchair when she walked in. It took him a second, but he finally looked up and smiled.

"Hello Hermione. I'm not supposed to see you until tomorrow."

"I know."

A pregnant pause existed between them before he extended his arm to the chair opposite of him. She walked over and sat down. This is the last time that I'll sit in this damn chair, she thought, and smiled a little despite everything she was about to say.

"So, how can I help you?"

She wondered, silently, how many people before her had sat in this chair and told Mark things like she was about to tell him. How many people found it worthwhile to spill everything they held so tightly to themselves? But other people weren't her, and she had to do this. So she could go home…so she could move on.

"I think I'm ready to tell you everything."