Path | Dramione

t h i r t y t h r e e

-Hermione Granger-

I hold down the delete button on my computer as I delete a paragraph from my paper that's due tomorrow.

It's a three page essay (I'm on the first) on the occupation we want when we're older.

Mine is about being a Cognitive Behavioral Therapist or CBT for short.

It's helps deal with Anxiety, Depression, some eating disorders, OCD, PTSD, phobias and panic attacks.

My sister had Anxiety and Depression, it's said so in her note. I also knew after she died because my mom and dad told us. My mom and dad kept it a secret because my sister didn't want us to judge her and make fun of her for having those issues.

I would've never judged her or made fun of her if I knew. I would've help, I would have research how to make her better night and day if only I knew. Maybe if I did know, she might be still alive today. Because she would have felt so alone because she would have known that I was by her side, I was there to help her if she ever needed it.

So maybe I couldn't have helped her but now I can help others. I can help those who went through the same thing as her and things that are similar. Since I couldn't give my sister a chance at living, I can give others the chance. I can spare their families the grief mine felt when my sister killed herself. I can now give little girls and boys their sister or brother back. I can give the parents there baby back. I can give husbands and wives their spouse back.

I can make their life a better one.

So I guess one thing good came out of my sister dying. I get to save others from the clutches of death.

The last page is about why we chose this occupation and what pushed us in that direction.

Then the second par is about what we would specifically focus on. Like if you were a doctor, what type of a doctor. If you were a vet, what type of vet. If you wanted to be in law, what job in law.

And for me, I want to be a Therapist but more specifically a Cognitive Behavioral Therapist. Even more specifically I could be a specialist in the Depression, Anxiety, and PTSD group.

"Baby?" I hear Dracos voice ring around the empty hall ways of the 'Manor'.

"Bedroom" I call back and continue to write along, being inspired.

I hear the door open as I start my third page and soon feel the bed sink next to me. I continue to type and quickly peck his cheek before looking back to the screen.

"That's a lot of writing" Draco says, looking at my computer. I nod in agreement.

"I'm almost done, then we can hangout" I smile over to him and finish half of the page.

I've always been a surprisingly fast typer so writing three pages isn't that bad unless I'm having writes block, which in that case if sucks because your just staring at your screen, waiting for an idea to pop up in your head and lay itself down on paper.

"You almost done yetttt" Draco wines and tugs on my shirt.

"Shhh" I hush him and continue to type, almost done.

"Don't shush me" He huffs and pulls at my waist.

"Let me finish" I start on the last paragraph and try to type faster without making too many typos.

It takes me a little less then a minuet for the conclusion and I spell check it then close the computer and set it on the floor.

"I swear your the younger one in the relationship sometimes" I say as I face him.