Fait à la Perfection

2

"So...you quit?"

Hermione exhaled slowly.

"I don't know" she said "I sort of walked out...I haven't answered any of my boss's calls nor my colleagues...I haven't even looked at the paper because I know he wrote something horrid."

"What is your history with this Draco Malfoy?"

Hermione clenched her jaw.

"You know I can't help you if you don't tell me."

"We have had a hard history," was all Hermione said.

"Define hard."

"We have tried to kill each other once or twice."

"Metaphorically?"

Hermione thought back to the war. Or a normal day in Potions.

"Yes," she said.

He jolted something down.

"How are the nightmares?"

"Still difficult."

"Have you been taking your insomnia medication?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because they impair me in the kitchen, I need to be on top of my game to protect myself and the people around me."

"So then how are you coping?"

Take something bad, and make it into something delicious.

"Hermione?"

Hermione jumped and looked at her therapist.

"I'm cooking, drinking...walking...anything to tire me out at night."

"How long did you sleep last night?"

She sighed.

"Three hours...one if I'm counting the nightmares."

"Hermione, we can keep trying medication, but it's not going to work if you don't let it."

She sighed and played with her sleeve.

"What is the real reason why you don't want to take medication?"

She clenched her jaw once more.

"Hermione—"

The alarm went off. She got up and grabbed her coat. Her therapist led her to the door.

"Hermione, therapy can only work if you let it, the more you hold back the less results you'll see, if you don't trust me, then you're only throwing money away for an hour of nothing."

She nodded mutely.

"See you next week," she murmured.

She got into her car and pulled out of the driveway. Hitting the street; she rolled down the window even though it was mid winter.

"What is the real reason why you don't want to take medication?"

And then it happened again.

"Robert? Honey we're home!"

Hermione looked up at her mother.

"Maybe he's playing hide and seek" her mother smiled "count to five and we'll go look for him."

Six year old Hermione beamed at the thought.

Covering her eyes she began to count.

They crept up the stairs and—