It was when her hands started bleeding that Hermione decided she could do with some help. She couldn't hold a quill anymore, and healing charms were less effective every time she used them, not to mention that they were not of the highest quality when using her left hand to heal her right.

Ron hadn't noticed yet, but Harry had. He didn't seem to realize how odd it was. A life at the Dursley's had left him with a more-than-healthy obsession with cleaning himself.

There was blood on her hands. Only a drop or so, but it was not clean, and she had to wash them with soap, and scrub, and- but, no that would make it even worse. But she couldn't avoid washing, they were dirty.

So she scrubbed, thinking of whom to tell. Harry wouldn't be able to understand. Ron would…would…Ron wouldn't understand either. Illness was so rare in the Wizarding World. No pureblood would be able to think of something like hand washing as a disease. Harry knew very little about Muggle things, either. How could he? He'd left his home only for school since he was a year old.

What good would telling them do, anyway? There was a war on. People were dying, battles were being lost, and Hermione was in the bathroom washing her hands until they bled.

Her parents had died three weeks ago exactly. They would have known what to do. They could have taken her to the doctor, and she could have been put back into therapy, and when she could stop herself every time from washing or cleaning or organizing or doing something painful like plucking every hair out of her arm out with tweezers, one at a time; they would pronounce her functional and warn her that she wasn't cured even though her symptoms were gone. Avoid excessive stress, they'd tell her. You don't want to trigger another relapse.

But her parents were dead, and the closest thing to a doctor was Madame Pomfrey, who had enough on her hands keeping students alive. There was war on, and washing hands was not a serious enough issue to bother her with.

So Hermione put more soap on her wounds, wishing that it didn't sting so much, and continued scrubbing.

A/N: so... I wrote this about a year ago, and only recently rediscovered it. Yes, Hermione has OCD, but I didn't put that in the summary because it seems to me that recently, OCD has taken on a connotation of being humorous, when this really isn't the case. Please review!