One-shot: Rehab by Moi

Era: Harry Potter Era

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Some Language, and Contains Substance Abuse

Disclaimer: I do not own the idea of the song or w/e, nor JKR's characters. I only own…umm….Ray. HA.

The war ended around three years ago; when I was twenty-three. I'm now twenty-six. Not so bad huh? Well, it is. I was one of the sixteen Order members that survived. It's bad, because my love died in that battle to save my goddamn life.

Ronald Weasley was his name, and I love how his name rolls off my tongue. I say it everyday, hoping he'll come back when I say it. Never has he come back. I have thought about him every single day ever since the war ended. I still haven't gotten over it.

Everyone says I've let myself go. I mean, come on. I was married to the guy and carrying his baby. I lost it in the battle, too. A miscarriage. That builds up the depression and the whole my heart as it widens.


I inhaled the nicotine in my cigarette and took a swig of beer. I looked at the clock. Twelve o'clock p.m. I'm supposed to be in rehab. I told them I don't need it. My daddy thinks I'm fine. He believes I'm just going through a stage. He knows how I feel. I can hear my mother now, "Oh Phillip, please. She's smoking and drinking all the time! She needs to go."

I say no.

Even though all this stuff has been going on, I'm glad I've found someone who loves me as I am. Ray. I think, no, I know he loves me for who I am. Even though my father believes that I'll make a comeback, he really doesn't love me anymore.


Twelve-thirty p.m., great. Mr. Hathaway's probably, telling the class to speak their name and to express their feelings. A bunch of bull it is. But, I'll probably learn something about learning how to be a bigger loser than I already am.

I knew this wasn't going to work. They can't control how I feel, what I'm feeling. They could not! I'd like to see them try. Nothing can change how I feel right now.

I remember the first time I came to that stupid class. It was like being in limbo and not knowing how to get back to your body. And they call it rehab? I snorted. All through the class I talked to the teacher with an attitude and in a monotone voice. Not once did I let them see the weakness in me when I started to talk about Ron. They thought it would be good for me to continue talking about him. It wasn't. I snapped before I knew it. Therefore, I didn't get much out of the class.

I came home from my first rehab session mad as hell. I yelled at my parents for sending me there. But, again, they forced me back there. This time they had reinforcements. Ginny Weasley. Oh, ahem I mean Ginny Potter. She was five months pregnant with twins. I despised her fat self, still do.

After the first session she took me to, I really didn't see her anymore. Maybe it was because I punched her in her stomach and we got to fist fighting. She never lost the babies though. Strong one she is.

I have to admit, I got used to them until one day I cracked. I let out my feelings about my baby that I lost and wanted. He asked me about it, and I cracked by acting like it was alive and breathing.

When I started talking about him, Mr. Hathaway didn't show any sign of confusion. He just nodded his head understanding my reason for doing this. I even named him Evan Ronald Weasley. I remembered that Ron made the name for him. When it ended, I ran out of it, never returning the next day, or the next week, or the next month. Because, I even let a tear drop.

I haven't been back since. They need to know I need some space. I inhaled another addictive swig of nicotine. When I come back, they'll know. Trust me, they'll know. They need to understand my position. I'll keep drinking and smoking until I've got rid of all the pain. No one understands. They'll know if I make my comeback.


I sat down on the little couch by window and looked at my reflection. I hated it. They think I wanna live my life like this? No, I don't. I want to quit all of this. If they really want me to get over it, they'll be my friend. That's what I need, a friend. I don't care if takes ten more weeks for me to recover. They need to be my side, but they're not.

It's not that I'm glad to be doing what I'm doing. It's not that I take pride in what I'm doing, it's just I wanna fight my own battles. I want to get over my lost, but it seems like I can't. 'Til my tears have dried; 'til the pain has disintegrated; I'll be the same way.


The doorbell rang. I just sat there waiting for someone to answer it, no one did though. I got up stomping. I got to the front door and opened it. There standing was Ginny Potter. "What," I spat.

I looked at her. She was no longer pregnant but still looked perfect. Perfect red hair, that reminded me of Ron, and her perfect figure.

"Come on Hermione. I know you need a friend. Just come with me. I'll help you."

I snorted at what she said. But, wasn't I just bitching about what she just said? Maybe I needed to face this alone, maybe not. We have to find out, but not right now. I started to close the door and yelled, "No!"


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