Hermione sprawled across her bed as she read through volumes she'd nicked from the Restricted Section. Nicked...I'll return them when I'm back, it's not stealing. Not really...
How far will you sink?
Hermione rolled her eyes and took to her reading. Forensic Necromancy: Unveil the Secrets of the Dead. Much of what she read was disturbing, fascinating but disturbing. She came to understand why the practice of using Death Speakers was so rare. It was finicky, and too easy to bring a disturbed soul forth...nothing like the ghosts she regularly spoke with at Hogwarts. Hermione knew the corpses of the muggles were long deterred, but she also needed to know what she was getting into if she wanted to understand the recordings.
I'll go down Christmas Eve, Hermione decided. She paid attention to the comings and going of the Healers who came in to monitor her over the night. She felt she knew how the rhythm passed. And with the casting adults roaming the hospital, it was easy to cast magic where necessary. Files were all kept in the same place, the basement, through the morgue. Hermione shuddered at the thought and noticed her tail growing bushier. Which was not helped by the opening of the door.
Hermione leapt to her feet and shoved the book back in her bag and kicked it under the bed before looking preoccupied with something in the window.
"Squirrel or bird?" her father's voice sighed behind her, setting a hand on her head.
"Bird," she shrugged turning to face him. "I know it's an illusion, with us being underground and all, but my cat-brain is easily fooled."
"I see," he said. "Why don't you sit down?"
Hermione nodded sitting back down on the bed. She noticed his pale brow was furrowed, black eye brows knit in a pensive mask. She ventured looking into his black eyes but couldn't glean much other than the fact he was about to say something difficult to her. Something confirmed by his hand returning to the top of her head and soothing her hair.
"What is it, Dad," she asked.
"Later this morning," he said. "Someone will be here to speak to you. He'll ask you some personal questions, but he'll be here to-"
"What?!" Hermione squeaked her fur and bushy hair standing on end as she leapt. "You think I'm mad? I'm not mad! I-"
"Do not interrupt me, Hermione Elizabeth!" her father hissed. "No one has accused you of being mad, now sit down."
Hermione sank her cat-like teeth into her bottom lip, tearing the flesh easily. She cautiously sat down before combing the wing. She should have known this was likely when she was admitted. Hermione-well, she wasn't exactly the picture of stability, was she? And she was hardly making a case for her self.
"Sorry, Dad," she sighed, hugging her knees to her chest and wrapping her tail about her. "I just don't-I know I'm not-" she drew in a sharp breath and dug her claws into the backs of her hands. "Do I have to do this?"
"No," he shook his head soothing her hair. "But it was strongly recommended...and more than once."
Hermione narrowed her eyes and dug her teeth into her lip before forcing the words. "By whom?"
Her father sighed and tapped his chin. "I don't believe that matters."
It matters to me, Hermione thought sadly, wondering who would have told him she needed that kind of-that son of a bitch!
"Hermione," he sighed, folding his arms over his chest. "I've already consented to the appointment. You'll just have to tolerate the first one."
"Why don't you tell me a little about yourself?"
Hermione combed her eyes over the man evaluating her. Hassan Amir was an average looking man, around thirty or so, with dark skin, short black hair intentionally pushed up in the front, and calculating dark eyes on either side of his hooked nose. Hermione knew he was judging her, hell that was the whole reason he was there, wasn't it? Ask her his questions and scribble mad as a hatter on his little clipboard before sending her off-
You're being ridiculous! Hermione chided herself. You stupid piece of shit. Though she couldn't shake the feeling Counsellor Amir's evaluation would confirm her worst fears.
You're not exactly the picture of stability...
I need your help, but I reckon you need someone else's...
Hermione evaluated her evaluator. Neither young or old, and very plain in cream coloured robes. He seemed smart, something akin to compassion rang in his soft voice and behind his eyes. Looking for gaps in his armour, she could only find one. A gold band on the third finger on his left hand.
"Does she ever accuse you of psychoanalysing her, Counsellor Amir?" Hermione asked coolly.
"Call me Hassan, Hermione," he smiled. "And does who accuse me of psychoanalysing her?"
"Your wife," she said. "I imagine it causes many rows."
Amir smiled gently. "My training actually solves more rows than it causes. I don't break into people's minds without their permission, Hermione. All I do is help people by listening. I just know how to listen better than others. Are you afraid I'm judging you in someway?"
Why did you think that would work? Hermione clasped her hands together, inhaled sharply. One, two, three, breathe...
"Okay, Hermione," he sighed. "Why do think Candice Hua recommended I see you?"
Gee, I wonder..."Perhaps to see if I plan on going on an all mice diet any time soon?"
"Do you?" he smirked.
"Strict vegan," she sighed, shaking her head. "Though the idea of rolling around in catnip leaves is not entirely unappealing."
I must be going mad, Severus thought. Is that...Lupin holding Hermione's cat?
Severus wasn't going mad, it was Lupin, Remus Lupin holding the giant ginger cat in his arms, a precariously balanced tray with three red paper cups, and a ridiculous smile. What the actual fuck?
"Lupin, what the hell are you doing here?"
"Dumbledore suggested I drop off Hermione's cat this morning," he shrugged, nearly spilling the coffees, causing Crookshanks to yowl in panic.
"You're hopeless," Severus sighed waving his wand and levitating the tray to him.
"Thanks, Severus," he said. "Anyway, I figured I'd bring caffeine as well."
Severus rolled his eyes wondering why Dumbledore sent him. He put it from his mind and distracted himself by reading the scrawl on the red cups. Two simply had initials, muggle probably assumed he misheard strange names like "Remus" and "Severus", but the smaller of the cups read Harmonie, not only discarding an uncommon muggle name, but misspelling the more common one. This is intentional.
"Steps away from a dozen wizarding shops and you chose Starbuck's?" he sighed.
"I like the peppermint latte," he muttered.
"You are hopeless!" Severus couldn't help but laugh.
"Hi, Dad," Hermione greeted.
"You seem to be making progress," Severus observed, placing a hand on her head. "You might be back in time for class."
Hermione made the first step in one week that took several the previous year. The thin layer of fur on her face and body were gone leaving olive skin with tawny tabby markings. She still sported the ears, tail, mismatched eyes and claws. He wished he had made good on his threat back then and sent her here, it might have saved her months of trouble.
"Candice says because my body went through this before, it won't fight as much reverting back to normal," she rubbed her head against his hand.
"I suppose that makes sense," he said unsure. "We have another visitor this morning, I'm afraid.
"Oh?" Hermione narrowed her mismatched eyes.
"I'm sorry to intrude, Hermione," Lupin walked in, cat in his arms. "But Professor Dumbledore suggested you might be missing this little guy."
"Crookshanks!" Hermione piped up, beaming.
The two reunited, both purring contentedly as the giant ginger cat rubbed his face against hers.
"Thank you, Professor," Hermione said, scratching behind Crookshanks's ears.
"It's been a week," Severus observed, cursing himself for not thinking to make such arrangements. "What made the headmaster think of that now?"
"Spied him prowling the corridors yesterday," he said.
"Little escape artist," Hermione sighed.
"I see pet truly do take after their owners," Severus ran his hand over the top of her head. "Serves you right after all your attempts when you were little."
"I don't recall getting too far, Dad," Hermione reminded him.
"Far enough to give me a heart-attack," he sat next to her.
"I think there's cardiomancers on the third floor if you need," Hermione remarked with an eyeroll.
"Unfortunately, the damage is done," he smirked, ruffling her hair, before picking up the abused paperback on her bed. "You must have these memorized by now."
"Just the broad strokes," Hermione shrugged. "I stumble across a scene I've forgotten every time I re-read them."
"Archers of Artemis," Lupin read. "Son of Hermes fan?"
"A bit," Hermione admitted.
"I love them," Lupin smirked. "Came out after my time, I know, but I don't think the number of cycles I've made around the sun should dictate what I like."
"You wouldn't," Severus sighed. "I mentioned you were hopeless, yes?"
"On behalf of someone who 'must have these memorized by now,'" Hermione said with a playful tone. "Hey!"
"You know I'm notorious for double-standards," Severus tapped her nose.
"That I do," she sighed.
"Before I go," Lupin scanned the two of them, still smiling and handing Hermione a small parcel. "Professor Dumbledore also thought you might want these."
Hermione's eyes narrowed, examining the parcel with suspicion."Thank you, Professor," she weighed it, cautiously.
The way Hermione eyed the parcel, Severus wondered if she thought it was some volatile magic. Perhaps Lupin was right about instilling a healthy sense of suspicion being anything but healthy.
"Letters," Hermione smiled. "Everyone wrote."
"He said it'd save the owl a trip," Lupin shrugged. "He also thought you could use with some new reading material."
"Why is the headmaster suddenly Father Christmas?" both Hermione and Severus said in unison, he noted the same suspicion flavoured her tone.
"He wrote both of you letters," he shrugged. "I'm happy to be an owl."
"I doubt you volunteered," Severus sighed. "Or shall Hermione and I start calling you place mail in your beak?"
"Dad!" Hermione mouthed.
Lupin on the other hand covered his mouth and laughed.
"Professor Snape?" Amir came into the ward holding a clipboard. "Would I be able speak with you in private for a moment?"
Severus rested his hand on Hermione's head. "I'll be back."
The two men left the wing and Severus shut the door behind him. He evaluated the man who with a remarkably neutral face. Severus however could pick up on the concern he might have concealed better with those less observant. Though there'd be no hiding the thickness of atmosphere from any parent who had difficult conversations with their child's medical staff.
"I don't have a definite diagnosis yet," Amir said. "It's hard with younger children, but there are a few possibilities, and she likely has a combination of disorders."
This is precisely what I was afraid of when that mongrel suggest I send her to see someone months ago... He inhaled and folded his arms over his chest. "Can they be treated?"
"Treatment will take a while to determine," he said. "From my meetings with Hermione, I can safely say she has Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, which can use potions, but we need to make sure it doesn't conflict with her other disorders."
"Which are?"
"Any medical intervention will have to wait until her brain returns to normal," Amir warned. "I'll start with that."
Fuck, that's right...
Severus remembered Amir now. He was two years his junior in (he thought) Hufflepuff. Hassan Amir was also the one who found Severus collapsed in the dungeons in his fifth year after an attempt to "fix" himself with a particularly finicky potion far beyond his level. The safer option would have been to consult with Pomfrey about treatment. The irony there was that he didn't feel safe consulting anyone, leading him to treat himself at sixteen.
He gathered by Amir's tone that he worried Severus would be similarly hasty with his own daughter. "I understand her condition complicates matters, that's why she's here. What other issues are you considering?"
"It's early to say, but between our sessions and what you've described, she shows some signs of PTSD. I'll continue to evaluate her while she's here, but I believe she either has bipolar disorder or is likely to develop Borderline Personality Disorder."
Bipolar...like Lily's mother...I hope it's whatever the other one is. "Borderline?"
"Diagnosing young kids with personality disorders is difficult, and normally not done. But it basically is a disorder where a person lacks the emotional skin to deal with high stress situations. Does she have a fear of abandonment?"
"I'm not sure," he admitted. but my mother did...and so do- he dismissed the thought.
"A pattern of unstable relationships? I understand she may be a bit young to-"
"Her relationships seem stable, if incredibly unhealthy," he sighed also realizing someone else fit that descriptor.
"She's thirteen so we'll skip the rapidly changing self-identity," he read off his clipboad. "Has Hermione engaged in risky behaviour and shown poor impulse control?"
"Yes," he said before describing instances where she acted impulsively, including her attack on Malfoy. "But I believe that was response to her friend being m-insulted."
"Self-injury or threats of suicide?"
Severus's heart dropped. "I was just collateral damage"... "She's not outright threatened suicide but she's engaged in-she's said she's put herself in harms way for the sake of others, even when not necessary. She believes she's expendable."
"That we'll have to work with," Amir said, not without sympathy. "She's a minor so we'll let you know the instant she says anything to indicate she is." After a moment of silence he continued on his list. "And what of mood swings? In particular frequent outbursts of intense anger. Perhaps inappropriate?"
"Mood swings, yes," he nodded. "Rarely anger though. She does go through manic and depressive episodes, I can't say how long they last as she's not terribly open. If Hermione's bipolar what are the chances she develops-" he inhaled sharply thinking of Lily's mother. "Will she become psychotic?"
"That's not a given, it's primarily a mood disorder," Amir promised. "Any signs of psychosis in the past?"
"No," he shook his head.
Severus wasn't sure if Borderline was preferable to bipolar now. From everything Lily told him, he still thought it might be. He thought about that last symptom...inappropriate outbursts of anger, that paired with the intense fear of abandonment and self harm...it was all a dead ringer for his mother...and if he could admit it...
"What are the chances of a child inheriting Borderline?"
Amir tapped his quill against his lips and looked up pensively. "It can happen. There are genetic and environmental factors. Do you suspect someone else in the family of having it?"
"Yes..."