Title: Why should I care?

Author(s): Gwendolyn

Rating: R
Warning: Character death. Don't like, don't read. One-shot
Category: Angst, Dark, Romance
Pairing(s): Hermione/Draco
Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to Gwendolyn; characters are used without permission for a non-profit purpose. No infringement is intended.

Author's note: Pardon some mild OOC-ness, as the character's personalities were based on people I know and see everyday. Thank you to Cissa, my wonderful and sexy beta, and all of the people who gave me the inspiration to write this fanfic.

                                                                                   Why should I care?
                                                                                   By Gwendolyn Lovegood

            Hermione was sitting on her four poster, thinking.

            Thinking about hate.

            Not that she could hate, no, well, except one teacher, professor Snape, who he himself claims he's the devil's boss. No, it wasn't her hate it was the hate people had for her. The way no one ever listened to her. The way people made fun of her for being muggleborn The way he hated her. The way she hated herself.

            She looked at her arm. She looked at the three cut marks on her right arm. She admired them. They were the only thing she liked about herself. They reminded her how insignificant her life was. They reminded her of how no one would care if she died. The reminded her of how the only thing she could ever count on was the fact that he would always, always, despise her. She hated herself for liking him, because she knew how much he hated her and how that would never change. She hated herself for liking him, even when he was going out with her friends. She hated herself for always being defensive. She hated herself for having to keep this inside of her, but she knew if she let it out she would never forgive herself. She just hated herself for not hating him.

            She looked up at the clock; it was 6:30. She figured she would take a shower and then go down to breakfast. She hadn't slept all night; she'd been up doing homework.

                                                                                   ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

                                                                                   *30 minutes later*

                                                                                   ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

            Hermione was walking down the stairs to the Great Hall. She wasn't hungry; she didn't normally eat breakfast anyway. She'd just study for her arithmancy quiz fourth period.

            She was about to walk into the Great Hall when she heard a familiar, hostile voice.

             "Oh my God! Did you like see the like, Mudblood, like, yesterday?" asked a random Slytherin.

             "Oh my God, it's time for her to stop," said Pansy, with utter disgust in her voice.

            With that, Hermione walked in, slouching and with her head down. Malfoy and Zabini were laughing about Hagrid being on probation, with their girlfriends hanging all over them, looking like complete sluts. Well, actually, Pansy looked like a slut. Parvati, being the traitor Gryffindor she was, was hanging on the arm of Blaize Zabini, the guy with the biggest head at Hogwarts, in every sense of the word. Of course, Parvati being a Gryffindor, and Zabini being a Slytherin, he wouldn't keep her for more than a week.

            Hermione kept walking, ignoring the fact that Parvati, her housemate, her friend, was making fun of her just like a Slytherin. When she reached them though, she looked away to avoid their eyes, and Malfoy put out a foot to trip her. She fell to the floor and, it being made out of cement and rock, broke her wrist and gave her a bloody nose. She gathered her books, stood up, and looked at all of them in turn. Pansy was about as tall as her. Parvati used to be much taller than her but now you could tell that they were within 3 inches of each other's height. Malfoy and Zabini, however, were much taller than her, and they made a point of reminding her every time they saw her. As she stood up, she looked at Malfoy, and a drop of blood fell from her nose onto his shoe.

             "What the fuck is your fucking problem, you fucking Mudblood bitch!? HUH!? I just got these and now you have to go and fuck them up by getting them all muddy!? Now get the fuck down on the floor and wipe that shit off my shoe!"

            Hermione stared at him unseeingly.

             "I-I'm sorry. I-I'll p-pay for them," she stuttered.

             "You'd fucking better, you bitch!" he yelled, spitting in her face.

             "What was that for, Malfoy?" she asked softly, her voice shaking.

             "Because you fucking disgust him, isn't it obvious?" interjected Pansy.

             "Malfoy, I hate everything about you," said Hermione, her voice still soft, yet determined.

             "You know Mudblood, you really do need to work on your comebacks," he said.

             "No, it's a song. Try listening to it sometime," she said, and without a second glance, ran out of the Great Hall and slammed the door behind her.

                                                                                   *             *             *

            She walked up to her bedroom and drew out the Exacto-knife from under her bed, and went into the Prefects bathroom.

                                                                                   *             *             *

             "Hermione? Hermione, are you up here? You missed first period and I just came to tell you that profess—" but Ron didn't have a chance to finish his sentence, because he saw Hermione, lying on the floor, hardly breathing.

             "Hello? Is someone—there?" she choked out.

             "Hermione, I'm here Hermione, let me get you to Madam Pomfrey," said Ron, panic evident in his voice.

             "No, just—just give this to Malf—… tell him this was for him—..."

            And that's when her heart stopped beating.

                                                                                   *     *     * Third Period *     *     *

             "You're late, Weasley!" shouted Professor Snape.

             "I'm sorry sir, but-"

             "NO EXCUSES! Detention tomorrow, my office, six thirty sharp. And no sitting next to Potter, sit over there, with Draco."

             "But Hermione—"

             "Is also not here, thank you for bringing that very obvious fact to my attention. Because of your insolence that will be detention for a month, I think—"

             "SHE KILLED HERSELF!" yelled Ron.

            The entire room went silent, seeing who would talk first.

             "So…… I should care?" asked Professor Snape.

            Ron made to head to his seat next to Malfoy instead of responding. Then he heard a laugh that seemed to echo around the room. It was Malfoy laughing.

             "Why are you laughing? She just bloody well KILLED herself!" yelled Ron, enraged.

             "Oh FUCK!" he managed to get out in between chuckles.

             "Finally he gets it!" Ron said exasperatedly.

             "No, I mean she never paid me back for my shoes," said Malfoy, still sniggering a bit.

             "Well could this be it?" asked Ron semi-sardonically, tossing the bag of galleons Hermione had told Ron to give to him. "Do you even know what her last words were?"

             "Do I fucking care, Weasley?" asked Malfoy coolly.

             "Well, since they were 'tell Malfoy this was for him', you should care," Ron said.

             "Why? So what if she killed herself for me? That was her choice. And it still doesn't change the fact that I hate her," replied Malfoy, looking smug.

             "You don't get it, do you?" Ron asked, a slightly manic glint accompanying the already angry look in his blue eyes. "She just killed herself because of how you couldn't stand to be nice to her, because of how you hated her!!"

            A pause.

             "So… she really killed herself for me?" Malfoy finally asked, both amused and exited. "Good, the Dark Lord will be proud."

            And with that, Malfoy went back to his normal pastime of snogging Pansy.

                                                                                   The End