A/N: I apologize a billion times at how long this took to post, but I'm still recovering from life and it's only been until recently when I've been able to sit at a computer for any length of time. Hopefully the next chapter will get to you quicker!
I have to say I'm astounded by the reviews of the first chapter! I'll try to respond to all of them but for now I'll only be able to respond to the ones with questions. Again, I'm not sure how long this story is going to be so I hope you enjoy the ride until we get there! Thank you a billion times to those who reviewed and read! And thank you a billion times to my saviour Pips!
P.S. I hope you like cheese, `cause I sure do!!
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Harry," the psychologist, Raylund Sleeps, smiled blandly reaching out to shake the younger man's hand.
"Er, thanks," Harry replied a bit warily. He sat in the plush chair across from Sleeps and eyed the psychologist. The older man was about average height, average weight, average build. Everything about him was average, which Harry could only guess was to calm the patient by making Sleeps a non-threat. Even his name was average. Idly Harry wondered if people were hypnotized if anyone ever tried to repeatedly get his attention in a crowd.
"I'd like to be the first to say thank you."
Actually Sleeps would be about the tenth, after all the healers, to say that, but Harry didn't feel it was terribly important to correct him. "Er, you're welcome?"
"So . . . how're you feeling?"
"Bored."
That seemed to take Sleeps by surprise. He blinked at Harry a couple of times before jotting something down. "And why are you bored?"
Harry lifted an eyebrow incredulously. "I've been in isolation for seven almost eight days now. Ron, Hermione, and I have played the same games read the same books, and looked at the same five walls that entire time. Wouldn't you be bored?"
"Please save all questions for after the session," came the reply.
Harry rolled his eyes.
* * * * * *
"Ms. Granger, delighted to meet you!" Raymund Sleeps greeted her jovially with his hand outstretched.
Hermione looked at the creepily non-descript man a bit warily as she shook his hand. Why was he so ebullient? "Hello."
"Sit down, please."
Once Hermione had settled, Sleeps sat back in his chair, his fingers steepled in front of his lips. "So."
His stare was just becoming unnerving when he erupted in a flurry of writing on his parchment pad. Nutters, Hermione thought.
"So. How do you feel?" he asked no looking up from his writing.
"Bored."
"And why's that?"
Hermione lifted her eyebrows disbelievingly. "You're joking right?"
********
"Mr. Weasley, so very pleased to make your acquaintance."
Ron looked at the man with a bit of wariness before shaking his hand and sitting. "Why do I have to do this again?"
"Please, refrain all questions for after the session. So tell me Mr. Weasley -"
"Ron, please. My father's Mr. Weasley."
Sleeps blinked owl-like before his lips tightened in displeasure. Hmm, apparently someone didn't like to be interrupted, Ron thought with a small grin.
"So tell me, how do you feel?"
"Hungry."
********
"So then he said, `What do you like to think about?'" Ron was saying later that night just after they'd headed to bed. "What was the point of speaking to the man?"
"I think they wanted to make sure that we weren't traumatized by the war," Hermione replied, curling up on her side and looking over at the boys.
Ron rolled his eyes. "I'm more traumatized by Sleeps than I am by the war."
"So what'd you say?" Harry asked turning his head to look at his other best friend.
"Girls. Food. Food on girls. Is there really anything else to think about?"
"Economic depression, the rights of elves, werewolves, centaurs, goblins and the like," Hermione piped up, "the rebuilding of Britain's Wizarding World, our futures -"
Ron eased up onto his elbow and made a face. "Ok, I get it Ms. Smarty pants. I was being fascist."
Harry gave Ron an odd look and Hermione snorted a giggle. "You were being what?" Harry asked.
"Fascist. You know, being funny. Joking."
Hermione laughed, falling back on her bed. "Facetious! You meant facetious."
Ron waved his hand dismissively and lay back on his bed. "Whatever. You knew what I meant."
"Good thing we've got N.E.W.T's in Ron-ese," Harry grinned over at Hermione.
"Oi! Which side are you on Potter?"
"Well right now none as it appears I'm on my back."
"Har de har," Ron replied turning onto his other side. "Everyone's a bloody comedian," he muttered amongst other imprecations, warnings, threats and general grousings before abruptly dropping off into a snore whilst practically in mid-grumble.
Hermione and Harry looked over at each other laughing softly. Still grinning, Harry cut his eyes over to the fort and looked back over at Hermione with a questioning quirk of his eyebrows.
They leapt out of bed, laughing and giggling softly; their socked feet slipping on the tiles as they gently pushed and shoved each other trying to get to the fort first. Quickly realizing that she was no match for his strength, she changed tactics.
"Nice pants Potter," Hermione laughingly called from the safety of the fortress.
Harry closed his mouth and shook his head while pulling up his pyjama bottoms. "Resorting to pantsing me. How Slytherin of you, Granger," he replied crawling in next to her.
"Maybe the healers should be asking me if I'm exhibiting - how did they put it? You-know-whoish tendencies? And not you," Hermione grinned.
"The psychological counseling at St. Mungo's is the best in the Wizarding world you know Hermione," Harry teased with a grin. He settled on his back and stretched out his arm inviting her to snuggle into the crook.
She went immediately into his arms, secretly pleasing Harry for a reason he wasn't too sure about or quite willing to analyze yet. "Mr. Potter. Pleasure to meet you," Hermione intoned gravely.
Harry looked down to see a teasing glint in her eye. "Nice to meet you too, Dr. Granger," he played along, the edges of his mouth twitching.
"So. How do you feel?" Hermione asked with mock seriousness.
Harry snorted a bit of a laugh before composing his face into an expression of neutrality. "Well, as of right now I feel pretty good."
"I said that I was bored and he looked at me as if I'd gone off my rocker," Hermione confessed in a whisper.
"Me too," Harry grinned.
"And why is it that you feel `pretty good,' Mr. Potter?" Hermione asked returning to her mock-serious tone and expression.
"Please call me Harry."
"Mr. Potter."
Harry chuckled. "Well, I'm laying here with my best friend having some fun."
"And I suppose the savior of the Wizarding world doesn't have any fun?"
"Hence my prior boredom, Dr. Granger," he grinned. "So. Hermione," he began adopting the same mock serious tone that she had. "What do you want to do with your life now?"
"Well, I believe my life's ambition was to become a stripper."
Harry clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle the bark of laughter that bubbled up inside him.
"So I figure when I get out of here I'll apply at Muggle strip club, get some experience then find a Wizarding club. A ritzy one. I have standards you know."
"Well if you need help, I can be your pole any day," Harry replied before thinking.
The momentary silence that sprang up between them was tense and filled with something both exciting and unnerving at the same time. "That - that came out the wrong way," Harry murmured glad that it was dark so she wouldn't see the blush staining his cheeks.
Hermione cleared her throat softly. "At least I know that you support me in my career decision," she teased lightly.
Harry rolled over onto his side facing Hermione and cupped her cheek. "All joking aside, I'll support your decision to do whatever you choose whenever we get out of here."
Hermione turned her cheek into his palm, her eyes searching his in what little light managed to make it through the fort from the windows. "Thank you Harry. Do you know what you want to do?"
"Not a clue. But I'll figure something out. I always seem to land on my feet. What about you?"
"Same. There're so many options out there. It's a bit overwhelming to be honest."
"We'll figure it out," Harry murmured, his thumb tracing the profile of her nose then around her lips to the corner of her mouth.
"I feel ridiculous that I can't seem to do anything alone anymore."
"How often have any of us done anything alone?"
Hermione smiled against his thumb. "That's true." She scooted forward, tucking her head under his chin and wrapping her arms around his waist. She smelled sweet, inviting with a hint of parchment and book, even after days cooped up in a hospital. "Whatever happens, we'll face it together right?"
"Absolutely."
-->