Warning: non-con, suicide, rape, contains triggers
Author's Note: This is a dark fic, guys. Seriously. There are some things in here that are unpleasant, so don't read if you don't want to. But don't say I didn't warn you.
Thanks to ozzymandius for beta'ing.
based on the book, Thirteen Reasons Why
Even the Mightiest May Fall
Hello, this is Hermione Granger. Now, you must be wondering, 'isn't she already gone? Haven't we already gotten rid of her?' Not quite. I'm still here. And I'll be here for long enough to make sure you get to read what happened to me.
I would like to think that I'm doing this to tell a story. A story of what happened to me, and to make sure that it doesn't happen to anyone else. However, I'm not that nice. Truthfully, I'm releasing this to make the people involved feel guilty. I want them to feel some of the pain that I have suffered through.
But who knows. Maybe I'll grow a conscience before I finish writing this and crumple it up. Then I'll really disappear off the face of this world forever.
I survived the war with Grindelwald. Most of my friends, however, were not so lucky. Harry and Ron died, although they fought much more bravely than me. Those who survived lived their lives in seclusion. I was the only one who returned to school. I wanted my life to go back to normal, or as normal as it could be without my friends standing next to me and protecting me. However, I now regret that decision. Maybe if I had stayed at home, as the others had done, I would have made it to another Christmas. To be honest, I think the school just chewed me up and spit me out, leaving a deformed figure—only a shell of what I used to be.
I think it'll be fitting that we start with you, Draco Malfoy.
You see, you did a very good job at persuading people that you had changed. After the war, your family announced to have changed sides, and never once did I doubt you. You devoted your time to studying, and the boy I had always called a ferret changed right before my eyes.
I still remember that day, in the library, when you came up to me. I was reading a book—which one, I don't remember—and was rather surprised when you came up. You had never once showed any interest in me. But there you were.
"Granger," you said. "Want to work on potions with me?"
At first, I'll admit, I was slightly suspicious. I believed you had changed, of course—witnessed it with my very own eyes—however, I couldn't help but think there was some secret motivation for your actions. After a while, I quickly tossed aside my suspicion and gave everything to you.
I really liked you, Draco.
After the war, I needed someone to guide me. I had always needed someone. I bet none of you noticed, but I have a codependency problem. Even before the war, I would always cling to Harry and Ron. I needed their approval for everything. I loved the way their faces would light up ever so slightly when I had a new revelation.
Draco, I set my codependency on you. Maybe you didn't want it from me. But you got it, and you tore it out of me and stomped on it, until it was nothing more than a battered, heart-shaped blob on the ground.
We started talking more and more, and I could tell it really annoyed Pansy Parkinson. She liked you a lot, and I don't know if you were just dense or whether you were ignoring her. I didn't mind her, though, at least not then. I was too happy with you, Draco, to notice anything else.
I took you to my house one day. I believe that was the moment I fully trusted you. Trusted that you would torment me no longer, that we could live a happy life together. I trusted you to be the one to rebuild the world that the war had torn down.
How very wrong I was.
You took in the pre-war pictures. I looked for any sign of disgust, but none showed on your face. It was just quiet contemplation as you watched Harry, Ron and I play together so innocently.
The war not only took away our lives, it also took away our innocence. It corrupted us, showed us things that no person should ever be forced to see. The physical pain was absolutely nothing compared to the emotional wreckage inside your body. It was painful, trying to contain your internal battle while trying not to get killed.
I think those who died in the war deserve more recognition than they got.
"For what it's worth," you had said, "I'm sorry for everything. I despised Potter and Weasley, but I never wanted anyone to die."
I believed you.
"My parents were followers before I was born," you admitted. "There was no choice for me, really. I couldn't bear being disowned. I was nothing but an innocent kid. By the time I grew up enough to understand, I had made all the wrong choices."
You sat down on the couch, me next to you. It was nice, the way we just sat there together. If I could pause life forever at one moment, that would be the one I pick. The one where I felt whole again; something I never thought was possible after the war.
"I sometimes wonder—" you swallowed. Only then did I notice the shadows under your eyes. I wasn't the only one who had suffered. In some ways, you had to have had it worse than me. You played both sides of the war. "What would have happened if I hadn't challenged Potter to that duel? What would have happened if I had just let him go? Would he have got to Grindelwald before it was too late?"
"Draco, it's not your fault," I said. And I meant it; I truly didn't blame you for what happened. This was a war. It had a domino effect. One thing was bound to lead to another, and Harry's death was caused by Grindelwald and Grindelwald alone.
"I let them into the school," you said to me. I already knew that, though. I knew that, yet I was still willing to forgive you for everything you had done. Everyone makes mistakes, Draco. I understand that.
We stayed like that for a while. We didn't touch, but I felt comforted by your presence and I hope mine did the same to you. It was peaceful; just two survivors of war trying to rediscover their path in life.
That was the last good moment we had together.
You took me to Hogsmeade that weekend. It was the first trip where Harry and Ron were not by my side, so I was already emotionally unstable. However, you did a good job of guiding me. You made me feel safer.
You have to know, Draco, that I don't blame you for what happened. At least, not most of it. I understand the pressure of friends and what it feels like to let them down. I understand why you did what you did. But what you did afterwards was despicable.
I loved Ron with all my heart, and I thought that he was going to be my first kiss. However, during the war, we had other things to worry about, so we never really got to that stage. I entrusted you with the kiss. I felt that you were the person most deserving of it, and the person whom I most wanted to do the honours.
And did you kiss me. Despite being as inexperienced as I was, I could still tell a good kiss from a bad one. And let me tell you something, Draco; your kissing skills certainly matched up to expectations.
I always wonder what would have happened if your friend hadn't walked up then. Would we have stayed together? Would we have continued talking, continued being good friends?
Probably not. Friendship is a very delicate thing. It takes so long to build up, yet it breaks so easily. I was used to the love and friendship that Harry and Ron had showered me with, and that's what I expected from you. But you just couldn't do it.
Maybe that was my fault. I was clinging to the past. I was trying to infuse Harry and Ron into you, but you're not them.
Maybe it was my fault for putting so much trust in you.
"Malfoy?"
I would recognize that drawl anywhere, that taunting lilt. Blaise Zabini. Your best friend. Of course, I don't blame you for choosing him over me. But it didn't hurt any less.
I saw a brief look of pain cross your face, but I don't know if I imagined it or not. Then you turned back to him. Blaise was leaning against the opposite wall, a knowing smirk on his face. It was really such an ugly look. It was so predatory, like he was deciding which way to cut you up so he could eat you.
"What are you doing?" Blaise laughed. It was a terrible laugh. I was too frozen to move, like I had been caught doing something I wasn't supposed to. "She's a mudblood, Malfoy. Have you forgotten how filthy her blood is?"
His words angered me. But, I think, what made me even angrier was the fact that you did nothing to defend me. You simply stood there and let him insult me.
"What's going on, Malfoy?" Blaise smirked. "Don't tell me you were actually serious about it?"
You were serious, Draco. You told me about your parents, about your position in the war. You would not have told it to just anyone.
However, you squeezed your eyes shut, like you were in pain. "No," you said finally. "Of course I'm not. Don't be silly."
You left me there, all by myself. You walked over to Blaise, who shot you a smirk and then led you away. There was a pained look on your face, but you would recover. You had your friends, after all, and you would forget about this foolish girl after a while. The foolish girl who was silly enough to entrust you with her first kiss.
But I wouldn't recover, at least not fully. I did not have any other friends in school. I had no one to lean on in times of need. I was all alone.
I might have been okay. After all, I pride myself on being tough. However, what you did next, Draco, really destroyed what was left of my spirits.
To save your reputation, you decided to start rumors about me. Had you really changed, Draco? Those weeks I spent with you indicate yes. But shouldn't a person who has changed think twice about betraying someone they care about? Or did you even care about me? Which one is the real you? Even now, I don't know.
I went back to school after that trip and spent the remainder of the day gathering myself in my room. The next morning, at breakfast, I was ready to face you, Draco. If you decided that I wasn't good enough for you, then I could think that you weren't good enough for me.
However, you made sure that it wasn't just you I was facing.
The second I stepped into the Great Hall, the whispers started. I was used to them. Pre-war, people made fun of my appearance, my love for books and just me in general. That I could deal with. Post-war, people gawked at me like I was some sort of painting on display. I was a survivor of war, and they treated me as such. However, I didn't want to be treated that way. I just wanted to forget that the war had ever happened. I wanted to get on with my life. However, the title would always follow me around, haunting me and reminding me of the terrible tragedies that I had witnessed.
However, this was a new kind of whispering. It was almost one of…contempt. I was surprised. What had I done? People made fun of my appearance from time to time, but it was never one of disdain. Everyone knew it was just harmless teasing.
The Gryffindor house didn't act any differently than usual. They talked to me politely when they had to, but they mostly kept their mouths shut. No one knows what to say to war survivors. They didn't want to offend me accidentally. That just widened the gap between me and everyone else. I tried to be normal, but no matter what, normal just would not come to me.
I asked Hannah Abbott when I ran into her in the hall. She and I talked sometimes during Charms, and while she was nothing compared to the friendship I thought I had with Draco, I still enjoyed talking to her. She was also one of the only people that I could converse with without getting the feeling of her judging me.
"Oh," she shot me a look of sympathy. "What happened in Hogsmeade yesterday, Hermione?"
I thought of my first kiss. The one I had reserved for Ron. The one I had now wasted. You might not think it was such a big deal. After all, it's only a kiss, right Draco? However, I was already emotionally unstable. It was just a reminder of everything that I had lost, from friends to family to kisses. If I had saved that kiss, maybe I could still convince myself that Ron was still alive, that he would return to me one day and give me that kiss.
But everything is my fault, isn't it, Draco? Everything is always my fault.
"Nothing," I told Hannah. Because, if you want to act as if it were nothing, Draco, I could do the same. If you wanted to pretend that I mean nothing to you, then I will return the gesture.
"Actually," Hannah lowered her voice, as if she were afraid that someone might hear her. She didn't need to have worried; there was no one else but us. "People are saying that you forced yourself on Draco Malfoy when he refused to kiss you."
I hadn't believed it when I first heard it. I thought it was a joke. Me, force myself on you? Why would you start a rumor like this? Something that we both know is so far from the truth? It disgusted me then that I had spent so much time with you only for you to reveal your true self now.
I had to sit next to you in Potions. Professor Slughorn would not let me switch seats. I could tell from the look on your face that you liked the arrangement about as much as I did. I used to look forward to Potions. Now, it was a time which I dreaded.
"Why would you do it?" I asked you when we both sat down. I had to know. Was I that revolting? Did it cause you pain just to look at me now? What had I done?
You took a deep breath, like you were in pain. "I don't think we're going to work out," you said softly.
"No, really?" I asked, sarcasm dripping from my voice. "You broke up with me. You threw my first kiss on the ground and stomped on it until it was broken. Then, when I was down, you decided to start rumors about me. What did I ever do to you?"
The hurt on your face was so raw that I almost forgave you right then. Maybe you were truly just a misunderstood boy who was still making the wrong choices.
And I very nearly did forgive you, until Pansy walked into the room. A brief look of panic flashed across your face, before it was replaced with an emotionless mask. That was when I knew, that I did not want to hear whichever words came out of your mouth. They could only hurt me.
But I couldn't get away fast enough.
"Who cares?" you said rudely. I was reminded of the boy I had hated over the years. The boy who tormented Harry, Ron and I until we wanted nothing more than to curse him into oblivion. "It's just a kiss."
That's when I slapped you.
I got detention after that, the very first for me, but I didn't care. It was worth it, to see that look of shock cross your face. You think you won, Draco, but I got the last laugh. But in the end, you got your wish. You wanted to break me. That's just what you did.
This is where our story ends, Draco Malfoy. But don't leave just yet. You'll come again sometime soon.
Pansy Parkinson…you're next.
I had never liked you, and you returned the gesture. Pre-war, you were one of Draco's goons. You followed him, did whatever he did and hated whatever he hated. Therefore, I bunched you together with him. I never got the chance to really talk to you.
And I'm glad I didn't.
Post-war, we sat together in Transfiguration. I know what kind of person you are, Pansy. You use people for your advantage. You don't converse with them otherwise. That's why, those first few weeks before I started to talk to Draco, you ignored me. There was nothing I could offer you.
However, after Draco and I started talking, you reared your ugly head toward me. You did everything you could to try and ruin our friendship. I suppose I ought to say congratulations; you succeeded in your mission. And perhaps I'm not giving enough credit to Draco; after all, he managed to resist his friends for an awfully long time before he finally gave in.
However, post-Draco was when you and I ran into problems.
Draco started the rumors, but you enforced them. I could feel your glares in the corridors, could hear your whispers in Transfiguration. It annoyed me, knowing that none of it was true, but I ignored you. That, I figured, would get you to go away.
I was never more wrong.
I think that perhaps the biggest blow you dealt me was during Transfiguration on one hot afternoon. I was checking over my homework from the previous night when you came and sat down next to me. Usually, you talked with your friends until class started, but not that day.
"You're such a whore," you whispered to me. I ignored you, because I was used to that by now. Ever since the rumors started, I had heard that word rather a lot. Part of me hated Draco for making me go through everything, but the other part hated myself for being so trusting.
When I said nothing, you continued, "How do you think Weasley would react?" Just hearing his name made my heart constrict. "It's been only a couple of months after his death, and you're already throwing yourself at his worst enemy."
'Is that what Draco told you?' I wanted to ask her. 'Tell him not to flatter himself. Draco was nothing but a little bug in Harry and Ron's path.'
"You should be ashamed of yourself." No one told you when to stop, Pansy. No one taught you to think before you speak. That is how you hurt me, the same way you hurt many others before. You twist around your words to produce such poisonous statements. "Just because you're a survivor doesn't mean that you're better than everyone else."
No, it didn't. Never once had I thought that. People always assumed I thought things that never once crossed my mind.
"What would Weasley say if he knew that his precious girl had forgot him already?" You sneered. "It didn't take you very long to move on, Granger. Weasley must be turning in his grave."
I think what annoyed me most about you was the fact that you spoke about Harry and Ron as if you were familiar with them. Like you had any right to pretend you knew them. You don't know what Ron would have said about me. You don't know Ron like I do.
However, your words did bring up a point. Maybe I was forgetting Ron. I vowed to spend more time looking at the pictures we had together. It was my only link to him now.
Professor McGonagall came in then, and I thought that you were done taunting me for the day. However, you were determined to get one more statement in. "You whore," you said. The insult was getting very old, but you couldn't seem to stop using it. "You'll spread your legs for anyone, mudblood."
I didn't hit you then. Not only did I not want to get another detention, but I knew you were anticipating it. Instead, I just turned away and pretended that I didn't hear you. You didn't deserve a response anyway.
As I'm sure you must have guessed, though, I was the person who turned you green and gave you whiskers. I'm not so easily broken, Pansy. I can hold my own. If you make me angry, I will retaliate. If you even talk about Harry and Ron again, I won't hesitate to defend them.
You must have slept late that day, because you didn't even check your reflection before you headed down to breakfast. It gave me pleasure to see everyone laughing at you while you had a clueless look on your face. Maybe you think of me as an evil person. But in reality, I'm merely a girl trying to defend her dead friends.
Even Draco laughed, and for a moment, he caught my eye and we shared a grin. However, just as quickly, we remembered what our positions were. The smile slipped off my face, and I stared at him until he finally looked away.
To his credit, though, he didn't report me. Not that I would have cared anyway, but he gained some forgiveness, in my mind.
But it was not enough.
The next few days were peaceful for me. You were in your room, trying to get the greenness off of yourself. It was relatively quiet as I continued to try and rebuild myself. Professor McGonagall rightly guessed that I was responsible for your greenness, and pulled me aside to ask if anything was wrong. Maybe if I had told her, everything would have been much better.
But I simply shook my head.
You came back to class, and I was worried about what you were going to do to me. However, you were strangely quiet. You did not speak to me, did not interact with me, and you didn't even look at me. I appreciated the serenity, but I knew it was too good to be true.
That night, after I took a shower, I came out and discovered my locket to be missing.
Harry had bought it for me. It was a small golden locket that hung around my neck. It could open up, and inside there was a picture of the three of us—Harry, Ron and I. It was my most prized possession. I carried it everywhere I went, except for when I showered. Then, I hid it in a safe spot.
But apparently it wasn't safe enough.
I looked frantically for it, but I already had a suspicion where it was. I confronted you on the field, where everyone was watching. You played dumb at first, but then you handed it back over.
"An eye for an eye," you smirked, before walking away.
What you gave me was a burnt, deformed version of the locket that Harry had given me. The picture inside had been burned so badly that there was nothing left back a sheet of black ash.
Everyone standing on the field got to witness Hermione Granger break down. All the tears that I had kept inside myself suddenly flooded out of me and I collapsed to the ground. I clutched my broken locket to my chest, hoping it would revert back to its original state, but it never did.
What disgusted me even more was the fact that despite the fact that I was bawling, none of you stopped to help me. You either stared or walked away, pretending not to see me. I knew why. Was it because of my reputation? I knew all of you believed the rumors to be true. You believed something that everyone else believed, and did nothing to help the girl that needed help.
Do we truly live in such a disgusting world?
There was finally one girl who stepped up to help me. I couldn't help but notice that she came up to me after mostly everyone had left, but at that time I was too grateful to say anything about it. She helped me to my feet and invited me back to the dorm where she gave me some hot chocolate.
Hannah Abbott, this next story is about you.
Hannah, Hannah, Hannah. Where do I even start with you? I've known you for forever. We didn't really talk pre-war. All I knew was that you were going out with Neville, and it made me happy to see him happy. I never really got a chance to know you, but you were certainly someone who I enjoyed talking to.
It was obvious that the war hit you pretty hard as well. After Neville's death, you didn't look well. However, you tried to bounce back and you did a pretty good job at that. You got the bounce in your step back, you looked healthier and happier. But you knew, like me, that the war stayed with you forever. It never left, and it would haunt you at the times when you were the weakest.
Perhaps that's how we got to be such good friends. We could relate to each other easily. I could talk to you about the war without feeling uncomfortable. In a way, I could talk to you the same way I used to be able to talk to Draco. We had both experienced it; we knew what it was.
I noticed, though, that you never introduced me to your friends. Maybe you were embarrassed of me. At that time, I really didn't care. I was ready to accept any friendship I could get. So what if you hid me? At least during the times when we talked, I could see nothing but genuine friendship from you.
I did notice, though, that over time, you were using me as your personal chauffeur. You had failed your Apparation test, so you made me Apparate you everywhere. I didn't realize it at first, too happy to be invited to go to places with you. However, it became evident over time that you were using me for your advantage. I allowed it, because it didn't interfere with our friendship.
Until the night of the party, of course. The worst night of my life, and that's saying a lot after all I have been through.
I hadn't planned to go to it, of course. When had Hermione Granger ever gone to parties? It was unheard of. Even when you tried to convince me to go and have a good time, I refused. You could go with your friends. I was staying in my dorm and doing homework.
However, when you asked me to help you get there, I didn't turn you down. There wasn't any harm in bringing you there. I didn't have to stay, or so I thought. You gave me a brilliant smile and hugged me, and it was worth agreeing.
However, when we got there, you wouldn't let me leave. You wanted me to come along. You didn't want to be alone. It took a while for me to notice that none of your friends had come. It didn't take me long to realize that it was a Slytherin party. It made me want to walk in the other direction, quickly back to the safeties of Hogwarts.
However, you refused to leave. You wanted to stay, to have fun, to break the rules. I couldn't just leave you there. It was a trait I think I learned from Harry. I was awfully loyal to those that I cared about. My codependency came into play. And in the end, it proved to be my fatal flaw.
I lost sight of Hannah almost immediately. After that, I had no sense of where I was going. It kind of reflected my life, really, how I was just wandering around, hoping for a savior. I saw Pansy, who I had no interest in ever talking to again. She smirked at me, but thankfully left me alone. She had done enough damage as it was.
"Hey!" It was Millicent Bulstrode. "Aren't you the girl who threw herself at Draco?" She smirked, looking up and down my body. "Quite a scrawny thing, aren't you? You're nothing impressive."
I got away from her as fast as I could.
I never did like Slytherins, with an exception of Draco for that very short period of time. Some may argue that I never gave them a chance. But to be honest, I gave them lots of chances post-war. I tried to talk to them. I tried to talk to everyone. But no one wanted to converse with the damaged goods that I was. And after that rumor started, no one wanted to even come close to someone who had my reputation.
Hannah, you reappeared as I was making my getaway from Millicent. You were already drunk, hanging onto me while trying to regain your balance. That was where you and I differed. Even though you were haunted by the war, you weren't afraid to slip out and try to have fun again.
Meanwhile, I was still hiding in my shell, waiting for someone to reach out to me.
"Are you having fun?" you slurred. "I can introduce you to some people, if you want." I shook my head, but you didn't notice. "Come on. Loosen up. Just let yourself go for one night. You're here to have fun, Hermione."
Actually, I was there to be her transportation.
She thrust me into someone's arms and then took off, leaving me tangled up awkwardly with a stranger. I apologized and righted myself, getting a good look at the person as I stood up.
Not a stranger.
"Hermione," Draco said. I couldn't believe that I would run into him after avoiding him for such a long time. I spun around to leave, but he caught my wrist and dragged me into a room before I could scream. Not that screaming would have done me any good. None of the Slytherins were likely to have come to my help, and Hannah was too drunk to do anything useful.
Once the door was closed, I glared at him. "What, you're too embarrassed to be seen talking to me? Will they laugh at you for breathing the same air as me?"
"Hermione…" Draco said. He had no right to have that pained look on his face. He still had all his friends. He had his place in society. Meanwhile, I had nothing. My friends and I had played the bigger role in the war, and look where that got us.
"You never answered me," I cut him off. All my emotions started boiling up inside of me. The frustration, the sadness, the helplessness. "Why did you start the rumors? Why did you have to ruin my life even more than you already had?"
He was quiet for a moment, and then he said two simple words. "I'm sorry."
"That doesn't fix anything," I replied quietly. "Sorry does not bring anyone back. Sorry does not take back the words that you said. Sorry does not account for all the words thrown at me since you spouted that false lie about me. You think sorry is good enough for me?"
He looked frustrated, running a hand through his hair. It reminded me so much of Harry that I almost cried right there and then. "I know you, Hermione," he said finally. "You're stronger than this. You can tolerate the words."
He really enraged me.
"Don't assume that you know me." I didn't yell at him, which was what he wanted. Instead, I kept the calm expression on my face, though it was a struggle to do so. It took all I had to prevent myself from slapping him again. "You have no idea, do you? You've never been on the receiving end of everyone being against you. Word to the wise, Draco, even the mightiest can fall."
I left him then. That was the last conversation I had with him.
I want to say that my night got a lot better after that, but that would be the biggest lie I have ever said. In fact, the night took a turn in the worst way possible. And unfortunately, all bad things seemed to be happening to me recently.
That's where we get to you, Blaise Zabini. You, who I will never forgive. And the only thing I regret is that I never got a chance to curse you.
I left Draco in the room and then walked around, navigating through the people. Some of them shot me glares, but most of them ignored me. There was a lot of pushing and shoving, though, and I was slammed into the wall a lot of times trying to get from one side of the room to the other.
I saw Hannah on the couch, making out with some figure. I was going to leave her alone—it was her life after all—but then I realized that she was extremely drunk. Savior mode activated, I tore across the room to save her.
She was snogging you, Blaise Zabini.
Wrinkling my nose slightly at her choice of person, I reached down and tugged Hannah away from him. The look of surprise was obvious on her face, while you were glaring at me for taking your snog buddy away from you.
"Hermione?" Hannah asked, with anger in her voice. It surprised me. Hannah had never shown anger toward me before. "What do you think you're doing?"
"We have to go, Hannah," I insisted, tugging on her arm. I avoided looking at you, you who had sat up and was oozing anger. "It's late, and you're drunk. You're going to regret it in the morning when you get a hangover." I lowered my voice. "Blaise is not a good person to be snogging."
I only wanted to be helpful. That's all I ever wanted to be. However, Hannah covered her mouth and gasped loudly, as if I had just suggested murder. "Don't advise on what I should or should not do!" she all but screeched at me. I nearly jumped back in surprise. "I can snog whoever I want!"
"Yes, of course you can," I told her, aware that you were smirking. I really hated your smirk. It made me feel uncomfortable. "But it really is late. Maybe you can continue this tomorrow, when you can think more clearly—"
"I think you're just jealous," Hannah cut me off. I just stared at her. "You think I don't know about you and Draco? How you were desperate enough to throw yourself at him? At least I found someone willing."
"Hannah, you're drunk," I said, trying to ignore her words. It was not about me right now. But Hannah, unfortunately, wanted to make everything about me.
She was quiet for a moment, before she said, "You killed Neville."
I blinked, unable to formulate any words to respond. I wasn't even sure if I had heard her correctly.
"You killed him," Hannah repeated, pointing an accusing finger at me. "You were in the same room as him, yet you were the only one who came out alive? Why is that? Do you love your life so much that you were willing to sacrifice him just to ensure your safety?"
"Hannah," I had never felt more helpless in my life. "Neville knew what I had to do. I needed to get the Elder Wand to Harry before Grindelwald found him. I wouldn't have left him if I didn't have that mission."
"Excuses! Why couldn't Neville have taken the wand? Why did it have to be you?" Everyone else had stopped talking, and I could feel a coldness sweep through my body. Was this it? Did everyone I trust have to take my friendship and throw it in my face? Was this what everyone thought of me?
I didn't want to hear any more. She had said enough. I understood how she truly felt about me. Without another word, I spun around and left the party, making sure that I slammed the door behind me.
I guess I ought to applaud you, Hannah. You obviously despised me, yet you managed to put up with me for so long? What made you do it? Was it pity? Did you truly need me to Apparate you so badly that you had to stick around? In that case then, I'm sorry. I'm sorry that you had such a bad time while using me.
I suppose I let my guard down after that, which almost never happens. I just felt so weak, weaker than ever. Ron always told me that I was the strongest person he knew, that nothing could break my spirits. But where was I without his supporting pillar? The strongest person in the world was slowly crumbling, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
Looking back, I wonder what would have happened if I had Apparated away before drowning myself in self-pity. What would have happened if I had been more alert? But as much as I want to, I can't change the past. And now, I can only watch the events play out as they did, completely powerless to stop it.
I was walking along the sidewalk, trying to put as much space between myself and the party. If I had been thinking clearly, I would have Apparated away. However, since I clearly was not, I just walked around by myself. With my wand in my pocket. My mind elsewhere. My body not alert.
Something slammed me into the wall, and my hands quickly went to my pocket. However, it was too late. The figure grabbed my wand and tossed it far out of my reach. I tried to hit him, but it didn't work; he was much too strong for me, and my struggles proved to be futile.
Guess who it was.
That's right, Blaise Zabini, it was you.
"Granger." Your breath smelled of firewhiskey. Your hands probed at places that have never been touched before. You revolted me, but there was nothing I could do to get away. I had had this helpless feeling for a while, but now there was truly nothing I could do.
"Let go of me." Of course you didn't, but it was worth a try.
"Let's see if the rumors are true, shall we?" you leered. "Malfoy says you have a fabulous body under those robes. Let's see, shall we?" His hands dipped inside, touching my stomach.
I slapped his hand away, but you only laughed. "Now, Granger, don't be a tease." Your breath fanned across my face. "You cost me my shag with Abbott earlier, so it's only proper that you return it. How does the saying go? An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. And I'm here to collect."
I made a few more attempts at getting away, but all of them were futile. I had never had a strong body, and without my wand I was practically useless. You had a strong build, and your movements were all confident.
It made me wonder if you had done it before.
I'm not going to describe what happened next. Partly because it pains me too much to recount the details of the event, and also partly because I don't really remember that well. I just remember the haze, and then the pain as you tried to get me to respond to you.
Nevertheless, whether I remember it clearly or not, I can say that it was the worst moment of my life. I had never felt so hopeless in my life. And I believe, it was at that moment that the option of death suddenly occurred to me.
I had been kind of hoping you would kill me right there after you had finished. I couldn't bear to face everyone when I got back to school. What would they say? What would they see? What rumors would they start again?
And the biggest question: how much more could I take?
I was rescued then, by a person I hadn't seen in such a long time. A person I had learned to trust over the years. But now, as emotionally fragile as I was, I didn't know who I could trust anymore and who was deceiving me.
"Let go of her," you yelled, pointing your wand at Blaise. He let out a very ugly string of words, before he quickly turned and sprinted down the alley. You did shoot several curses his way, but all of them managed to miss him as he disappeared out of sight.
I slid down, my legs too tired to carry me. You were by my side in a second, whispering soothing words to me and Apparating me home when I was too weak to do so. You helped me in my time of need, though by that time, it was much too late.
This next one goes to you, Ginny Weasley.
"Come on, let's get you cleaned up," you said gently, leading me over to one of the chairs while you got some paper towels to wipe me off. I couldn't move, couldn't even think about what had just happened to me.
You got me cleaned up, and then just sat down next to me. I don't know how much time passed—didn't care—but you didn't break the silence even once. You waited until I was ready to talk. That's what I've always liked about you.
It's just the two of us now, Gin. From the original group, only the two of us survive. And now, it'll only be you. Be sure to defend our honour, okay? Don't let anyone degrade us too much.
"Hermione," you said finally when I reached for a tissue to blow my nose. "I'll take you to the Wizengamot after you've calmed down a bit. You have to press charges. I'll be there with you."
I nodded. "Please…can we not talk about that now? I don't want to talk about it." Images flashed through my mind. Images that I did not want to see. Images that disgusted me to no end.
"Sure, of course." You set down a mug of hot chocolate in front of me. I didn't even want to drink it. It reminded me too much of Hannah. She always made hot chocolate for me. I wonder if she knew what had happened to me? Would she be glad about it?
"What do you want to talk about?" you asked. "How's school?"
"I don't want to talk about that."
That surprised you. I always wanted to talk about school. I loved school, I loved the teachers and I loved the learning. I still do. But I couldn't take everything that came with school. The rumors, the backstabbing, the gossip. Why did we have to have such ugly things in the world?
"Okay, fine." You covered up your surprise well. "What about friends?"
"What friends?"
I think it finally occurred to you that something was not quite right with me. "Hermione," you said, laying a gentle hand on my arm. It wasn't a conscious decision, but I flinched back. I couldn't stand anyone touching me, and from your look, you understood that. "Hermione, are you okay?"
That's when I broke down. I think that really shocked you. After all, I was Hermione Granger. I was strong both physically and mentally. To see me cry like that must have been really surprising. I could tell by the way you were frozen for about a minute, staring at me.
Then you went into action, pulling me into a hug. Then I told you everything. All the things that had happened to me since I had got back to school. Draco, the rumors, the destroyed locket. I told her about Hannah, and the guilt I now felt of Neville's death.
It took me a while to say everything, and you were silent by the time I finished. I had calmed down by that time, wiping my tears away with a tissue. It felt nice to cry, to let out my emotions once in a while. And it was nice to have someone that would listen to me.
"I'm sorry you had to go through so much," you said finally. "And I'm sorry that the Slytherins are such bastards to you." You sighed. "I want to go with you, Hermione. I want to stand by your side. But you must know that I can't force myself back into that school. I can't deal with it. I'm not as strong as you."
There it was with the 'strong.' Everyone assumed I was strong. Everyone assumed I wouldn't break, wouldn't crack. But this was you, Ginny. I trusted your judgment more than I have ever trusted anyone else's, with an exception of Harry and Ron.
"Talk to me, Hermione. Keep talking. It'll make you feel better."
You were right, as always. It did make me feel better. "Do you ever feel helpless? Do you ever feel like the whole world is against you, and there's nothing you can do to stop it from crushing you?"
You didn't even blink. "Of course. We all do."
"I wish Harry and Ron were here."
"Of course you do. Everyone does. We all miss them." You sighed. But you didn't realize. I needed them the most. I had my whole life built around those two. Now that they were suddenly taken away from me, I had no destination. There was nowhere for me to go.
"Do you think that heaven is a wonderful place?"
"Do I think Harry and Ron are in a better place? Of course I do."
I hated how people said 'better place.' Like they assumed that heaven was better than earth. But what about all those people they left behind, like me? I don't think Harry and Ron are in a better place. The only better place would be with me.
But maybe I'm just being selfish.
"Do you sometimes just want to give up? Just to stop fighting, and let the world come crashing down on you? It's so tiring to fight."
I wanted you to understand what I was trying to say, Ginny. I was trying to get you to pick up on my sudden suicidal thoughts. But perhaps I'm being too harsh on you. I wasn't giving very good hints. The only one at fault here is me, for even making that decision.
"Everyone wants to give up at one point or another," you said. "But we have to keep fighting on to see the next day. We can't ever give up, because that would be what the others want. Surrendering is not an option." You smiled at me. "Hermione, you're the strongest person I know. You'll get over this and regroup and move on one day. But for now, let's go get Zabini in jail."
It was supposed to be reassuring, but it somehow came out in the opposite effect. Why did no one find it possible that I wanted to give up? Why did no one suspect anything? I wanted them to notice. I truly did. I wanted someone to stop me.
But no one noticed anything. Even someone who knew me as well as you, Ginny, didn't pick up on anything. I was just strong Hermione Granger who was having a low point in life. I would bounce back quickly. There was no need to worry about it.
I sometimes wonder if I'm placing too much faith in people. I expect them to do so much, and I end up so disappointed when they don't meet my expectations. But maybe it's just me that's not living up to my expectations. Maybe I'm the only one failing myself.
But really, what else is there to do when you've dug yourself a hole so deep you can't even climb out of it?
I did climb up, though. I had almost reached the top.
That's thanks to you, Tom Riddle.
It took a while for me to recover after that incident with Blaise. He had been planning to get out of the country, but the police caught up with him before he could. He screamed profanities at me all the way, but Ginny's comforting presence was enough to make me feel safe.
I didn't go to Hogwarts after that. Professor McGonagall accepted it without much questioning, but Professor Slughorn wasn't quite as kind. He arrived at Ginny's house one day and asked why I had suddenly disappeared.
"My best student! M'girl, the class is so quiet without your responses."
I thanked him, but refused to go back. My spirits began to lift again, the more time I spent with Ginny. I had begun having doubts about committing suicide. I was happy here. I could be happy. I could forget everything that had happened at Hogwarts post-war and start fresh.
However, I could still feel the soreness where Blaise had grabbed me, the harsh words they had said to cut me in two. Those are the kinds of things you can't just forget. They stay with you forever. People should know that once they are said, you can never take them back.
But I don't think any of them cared.
Professor Slughorn came one day, when it was just me at the house. Ginny had left for the village to buy some supplies, so it was just me reading one of the books she had bought for me. There was a knock at the door, and I went to open it.
Professor Slughorn stood outside. What was even more surprising was the fact that there was a boy standing behind him, looking quite bored. He had dark eyes and black hair, high cheekbones defining his face. He wasn't a sore sight for the eyes, though I flinched when his lips curled up.
Was it a Slytherin gesture? Of course it was. Did I have a good experience with Slytherins? Of course I didn't.
"Miss Granger! Just who I wanted to see!" Professor Slughorn boomed happily. "I would like you to meet one of my past students. He was very smart, as smart as yourself." The boy looked surprised to have been compared with her. "Tom, please meet Hermione."
You, Tom Riddle, made the last few weeks of my life the very best. But you also lead to my ultimate demise. Was that a good trade? Even now, I don't know. But I do know that some of the moments I had with you are my most cherished moments, so it's safe to say that I don't regret anything.
"A pleasure." You smirked. I was aware of Professor Slughorn bidding us farewell as he quickly left, his job done, but I was only looking at you. Your eyes were so dark. I could see cunning and wit in them. But I could also see evil swirling in the depths.
I refused to talk to you at the beginning. You represented everything I sought to avoid. You were a Slytherin, the very people that had caused me to be the way I am today. I didn't want to deal with the whole thing again.
But then you sat down, took my notes, and instantly went on to disprove everything that I had written.
To say I was shocked would be an understatement. I was rather angry that you just took my notes without my permission, but I was also pleasantly surprised that you were well educated, that you could read my notes and had enough information to counter me.
I'll have to admit, I was hesitant at first. I didn't want to push your wrong buttons. But you soon proved that you were different than everyone else. You weren't afraid to push back at me, to counter me. And when you won—those very few times—you weren't afraid to rub it in my face.
That first debate was how it started. Even now, I'm not sure who won that, and I don't particularly care. All I know is, by the time Ginny got back from the village and you had left for the day, I was feeling so much better.
It was weird. Ron and I weren't similar, but we were never really polar opposites about anything either. But the more time I hung out with you, Tom, the more I realized how our views differed.
Your favorite quote was, "The end justifies the means." I don't agree with that. I believe that there are some exceptions where that is true, but mostly I think it's the other way around. The means justify the end. Of course you didn't agree with me when I told you, but I didn't expect you to. I would've been disappointed if you had.
Secondly, you loved life so much while I tried to escape it. You wanted to live forever. You wanted to create horcruxes to ensure that you couldn't be killed. You were willing to go to such lengths to ensure your immortality.
Wonder how I knew that little bit of information, Tom? I'm not as stupid as you think.
Meanwhile, there was me, a once strong girl now struggling to just hang on to life. I didn't tell you then, of course, that I had been—and might still be—suicidal. I sometimes wondered if you suspected it, but if you did, you never said anything.
I also wondered if I was giving my heart out just to have it ripped from me again. I never really did learn my lesson, did I? I suppose I was just so desperate for love and attention that I was willing to do anything to get it, no matter how short it lasted.
Our first duel ended in a failure, and I could tell that you were irritated. After all, it wasn't your fault that I had sudden flashbacks of the war. But you didn't spout harsh words or mock me. Instead, you just simply walked away and came back the next day to try again.
We finally had a duel after several failed tries. You won, of course, though I did put up a hard fight. You didn't hesitate to rub it in my face. I didn't want pity, and you certainly didn't volunteer any.
The thing about you though, Tom, was that you kept a lot of secrets from me. Even after we talked for so long, we never did talk about your personal life. I don't know anything about your family or friends or what you even like to do besides reading. I once asked you where you were during the war. We certainly could've used someone who was as good with magic as you are.
"I was looking for things," was all you said. And when I questioned you, you got angry.
But despite that, I felt an undeniable attraction to you. After a while, I finally let you kiss me. I was afraid something big would happen, like it did with Draco, but you didn't even make a big deal out of it. You simply pressed your lips to mine and then pulled away and went back to your reading. It was so uneventful that I almost wasn't convinced that it had happened.
However, like everything, all good things must come to an end.
It was the day of my birthday. Ginny had to leave to visit one of her friends. She forgot my birthday, but I didn't let that bother me too much. After all, it was only a date, and I hadn't celebrated in a while. There simply wasn't time for me to celebrate it. And I didn't blame Ginny for forgetting.
You, Tom, were away, trying to find something. What exactly, you wouldn't tell me, but you said that you would be back very soon. I don't think you even knew it was my birthday because I hadn't told you, so I couldn't blame you. However, after Ginny left, I couldn't help but feel very lonely.
I started baking a cake in Ginny's kitchen, which did not end well. I decided then to invite my parents over. After the war, I had restored their memories and brought them back to our old house. I hadn't had as much contact with them as I would have liked, but it suddenly occurred to be that they should be here celebrating with me.
Due to my insistence, Ginny had finally bought a telephone. I dialed quickly. "Mom? Dad?"
"Honey?" My mom sounded surprised. She never heard from me during the school year because there weren't phones at Hogwarts I could use to contact them. "Is everything okay?"
"Yes, everything is fine." I took a deep breath. "Can you please come and visit me? I'm at Ginny's. It's my birthday and I'm baking a cake."
"Oh, yes, happy birthday Hermione! My little girl is growing up." I could hear the pride in her voice, and I couldn't help the grin that spread across my face. "Hermione, dear…you want us to come over now?"
"Yes please."
"Happy birthday," my dad's voice said. Then, in a quieter tone, he said, "But Jean, we have the party planned out for tonight. We can't just leave on such short notice."
"Please," I said. I was feeling very selfish. I was all alone, so I wanted them to come and celebrate with me. It was plain and simple. "I just want to see you guys again. I haven't seen you in such a long time."
There was a pause. "Maybe we can be back before the party," my mom said. "It won't take that long to drive, and we can stay there for an hour." There were a couple of muffled whispers, and her dad sighed, because her mom said, "What do you think, Hermione? Will that be alright?"
"Of course."
"We'll be there in a jiffy. Talk to you soon! We love you."
That was the last time I heard my parents' voices.
I sat in the chair, trying not to feel sorry for myself at burning another cake. At least I had refrained from burning Ginny's oven. However, I didn't know how to explain the frosting that had messily dripped everywhere, so I was working on quickly cleaning it up.
The minutes ticked by, the sky grew darker, and I was growing more and more worried. By the time someone knocked on the door, I was anxiously pacing around the kitchen.
I quickly opened the door, ready to throw myself into my mother's embrace, but it wasn't my mother. My dad was nowhere to be seen either. Instead, there were two officers, both looking at me solemnly.
There were only two words running through my mind. 'Oh no.'
"I'm sorry, Miss," the officer began, and I could feel my heart sinking. "Your parents had an accident. I'm afraid that they weren't able to make it."
The other officer opened his mouth, but my body was on autopilot. Before they could say anything, I quickly pushed past them and ran into the woods. They didn't stop me, giving me the space I needed.
Why had I insisted on them coming? Why did I selfishly demand that they see me? My parents had lost their lives trying to see me. They were only trying to make me happy, and they had had to pay their lives for it.
Why am I still alive? I have killed people in the war, people who deserve to be alive more than I do. Hannah was right. I did kill Neville. I could have let him go ahead of me, but I didn't. I killed my parents. I remember that little kid who turned his brilliant blue eyes to me a second before I killed him. He didn't deserve to die. He was merely in the wrong place at the wrong time.
I stumbled into the forest, memories and images of people who had slipped away coming into my head. I tried to shake them out, but they kept coming, swarming my brain like bees. I couldn't force my tears to come out, my emotions completely bottled up inside of me.
Perhaps the reason I couldn't cry was because I was convinced that this was all a very big dream.
I saw you, Tom, standing in the forest. You were clutching some sort of locket, much like the one that Harry had given me. You were staring at it with a strange, greedy glint in your eyes, like you wanted to devour it.
You really did scare me at that moment.
You heard me, though I suppose it wasn't terribly hard to do so, with the way I was crawling around noisily. I had lost faith in my legs to support my weight, so I had slipped to the ground.
"What are you doing here?" you asked quietly. I noticed that the locket disappeared into your pocket, away from my view. What it was, I will never know.
"Tom." A choked sob tore out of me. Instead of sympathy, though, I got a look of disgust. I had appreciated that gesture over the past few weeks—I didn't want to be pitied—but now I wanted nothing more but to hear soothing words. Soothing words that only my mother could say. But now she was gone.
"Tom," I continued. "I want to die."
There was a silence, and then your lips curled up. It wasn't a look of amusement, though. You were looking at me with disdain, as if I were a savage. And then, you said quietly, "You're pathetic." And I supposed that I was to you. You, who loved life so much that you wouldn't even think about taking your own.
But not everyone is like you, Tom.
In the end, everything I had done didn't matter. It didn't matter that I had survived a war. In the end, I died because of the very people I sought to protect.
Let this be a lesson to all of you. No one is invincible, no matter how strong they may seem. People can break. If you see someone breaking, reach out and lend them a hand. Help them before it is too late.
And for those of you who argue that my reasons weren't enough, let me tell you something. These are my reasons. Mine. Not yours. And they were obviously enough if you're reading this letter. You have to understand, things differ from person to person. Something that might not mean much to you could mean the world to another.
And…to everyone, to Ginny, to Harry, to Ron, to Tom, and even to Draco, Hannah, Pansy, and everyone else…I'm sorry. I don't blame anyone of you. To be honest, the only person at fault here…is me.
And that is where my story ends.
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Thank you.
Fin
"Suicide is man's way of telling God, 'You can't fire me – I quit.'" ~ Bill Maher