Summary: Desperation had driven many to do unspeakable things in the recent past, that fact was unquestionable. But just what sort of desperate acts would these mere children attempt to accomplish in order to ensure their own survival? Warning from the author; this story contains a wide variety of physical abuse. Also, it contains body image issues, and while it isn't any sort of eating disorder it does touch base on them. This chapter only goes on about the abuse for a paragraph or so, just a glimpse. But you have been warned. Disclaimer; If you recognize it, then I don't own it.
In Self Preservation
"This has got to stop," Hermione Granger groaned, more to herself than anyone. She truly hated Potions. Not only was it her weakest subject besides Divination, but the company kept in class was more than disliked. For the past forty minutes, Crabbe and Goyle had been kicking the back of her chair. It was rather violent too, causing her stomach to be jammed into the desk. She hadn't gotten a thing done, and even though she was positive Snape knew what was going on, he hadn't said a thing. He even ignored her raised hand, threatening a detention when she spoke out to complain. When he stepped out of the room, it only escalated. Every time she had let out a gasp of pain, the Slytherin's in the class let out tiny giggles.
"Stop it."
The voice was quiet, but very demanding. The girl seated next to Hermione was anything other than intimidating in physical apperance, so it took her a few seconds to get a hint as to why, exactly, a flash of fear shot through the two imbeciles eyes.
"Draco said-" the bigger of the two, Goyle she thought it was, tried to justify their actions to continue.
"I don't care what Malfoy has ordered his lapdogs to do," her voice was slightly degrading, but just enough for the situation. She was glaring at them, "You're going to keep your feet, or any other object that belongs to you, away from Granger."
"Or what, Harvey?" Crabbe sneered, only to have Goyle knock him in the side with a chunky elbow. Hermione received her reasoning to the 'intimidating factor' that was Miss Harvey.
"Or, Crabbe," Harvey raised a brow, "You both will be walking ankles up for the remainder of your pathetic lives."
They instantly jerked their legs back, tucking them under their seats. Harvey turned back in her chair, scribbling down a few select things in a neat and orderly list on her parchment. Turning back as well, Hermione furrowed her brow as she, too, went back to her list. The two had decided to make a list of how they wanted to do the presented project, what they thought was both creative and informative enough to get them the best grade possible. They were going to trade lists at the end of class, then discuss their ideas tomorrow in the library.
Snape reentered the room, his impeccable timing to miss the drama as usual annoyed Hermione to no end. But this time, she supposed, she was grateful he had left. Looking over to Harvey, she brushed brown curls out of her face as she handed over her list. Harvey did the same, just as Snape dismissed them all with a nasty scowl.
"Abigail," Hermione started, gently touching the others shoulder. The touch seemed to startle the dark haired girl, but she regained her composure. Abigail did not miss the gratitude shining in the others Carmel eyes as she fixed the typical scowl that seemed to be bred into the Slytherin's.
"Don't thank me, Granger," she shook her head, a look of indifference in her eyes.
"Why not? You did me a favor-"
"I did what I had to do to get you to concentrate on your work," Abigail sneered, "I refuse let my grade suffer just because you can't handle a few taunts here and there."
Shoving the rest of her things into her bag in a very non orderly fashion, Abigail turned her back on the other and met up with her friends who were waiting by the door. Hermione was left shocked, staring at the other as Ron and Harry came up to her, leading towards the door.
But as they walked their separate ways down the dungeon hallway, Hermione glanced behind her on chance. Her jaw dropped slightly as Abigail Harvey looked over her shoulder, grinned down at her and winked in a secretive manner before she turned back to her friends.
"Aye, 'Mione?" Ron's voice broke through her confused haze. Shaking her head, she looked at both of the boys, "You alright, 'Mione?"
"Yes, I'm fine," Hermione nodded her head.
"If you say so," Harry gave her a strange look before both he and Ron went on about Quidditch as they continued up to their common room.
Later on that night, as Hermione lay in bed she thought about the words Dumbledore had left the Golden Trio with at the close of his last visit that summer. She fell asleep with his words and Abigail's actions echoing in her dreams.
Sometimes the most broken souls are the one's worth fighting for, my friends.
Abigail Harvey gripped her wand as she ran, full speed and panting. Her feet thumped against the grass, wind rushed past her and her heart pounded in her chest. Her body, that poor body, was screaming out in protest. The pain that burned in her stomach and legs was welcomed, though, so she pushed on. For hours she had been at it, running around the school grounds in the dead of night. She made sure to avoid the well lit areas, the popular 'lover' hideaways and, of course, the Quidditch Pitch.
The first rays of sunlight were beginning to hide the stars and Abigail began her slowdown back to the common room. That night had been one of those nights she had ran almost all night long, only taking a break to walk off the feeling of overwhelming dizziness when she could no longer handle it.
Using one of the many secret passageways, she made her way silently through the dark of the dusty walk. Reaching her hand out to push away any spider webs, she let out a tiny squeal when her wrist was caught.
"Lumos!" She whispered fiercely, her wand lighting up to reveal not one, but three other people.
"Abigail?" Hermione Granger, who was in the back of the trio, squinted.
"What are you doing here?" his tone was full of hatred, that Harry Potter's was, as he tightened his grip on her wrist.
"I could ask you the same thing, Potter," Abigail sneered, keeping her eyes locked on his.
"Slytherin's are never up to any good," Ron voiced from behind Harry. He was a bit taller than the one manhandling her, "So what are you doing down here?"
"And what do you think you're going to do if I don't tell you, Weasley?" Abigail switched her weight from one foot to the other. Leaning forward a bit, she smirked, "Incase you haven't been paying much attention lately, I'm a Prefect."
"So are we," Weasley glared back as Abigail let her Lumos dim until it was almost out, Hermione lit hers.
Ron's words had caused laughter to dance behind her bright blue eyes as she let them slip to Harry, "He isn't."
Everyone kept quiet for a moment, the boys not uttering a sound in defeat. But Hermione, ever the attentive one, wasn't speaking for a completely different reason. She was busy staring at the other girl, her eyes darting from her stomach to her arms quickly.
"So, Weasley," Abigail raised an eyebrow as she slowly removed her wrist from Potters grasp, "What are you going to tell your wonderful Dumbledore?" Placing her hand on Harry's chest, she leaned in close to squeeze by, "Are you going to explain to him that you two prefects were just randomly wandering in both a forbidden and hidden passageway, with a student who is clearly in violation of curfew?"
She didn't miss the hitch in Potters breath as she trailed her fingers down his stomach, but Ron didn't seem to notice at all, "You were here too."
"At least I was alone." she shrugged, scooting past the other two. She had made it a grand total of four feet away from the trio before she was stopped.
"What happened to you?" it was Hermione's voice, full of concern. Abigail turned around, an annoyed expression clearly written across her features.
"What are you talking about, Granger?" she placed a hand on her hip.
"All those bruises? Where did they come from?" Hermione had a look of horror on her face, and as soon as the boys took notice it was mimicked upon their faces as well.
Abigail Harvey was never one to be at a loss for words. But as they say, there is always a first time for everything. She scoffed, her eyes briefly flickering from face to face. Then she shrugged, "What can I say? I'm a very clumsy girl."
"That's not being-" Hermione had started as Abigail had begun to make her way back down the hallway.
"Just shut your mouth, Granger!" she twisted around as fast as lightening, her voice echoed down the empty corridor. She forced a laughed, "God, you are just so annoying."
"She was just showing concern, Harvey," Weasley said, placing his hand on Hermione's shoulder.
"Ah, well see, I don't do concern anymore. It's one of those nasty emotions that doesn't come of any good in the long run," her voice was harsh, signaling she was done with this topic. She fixed the positively false smile across her lips as a mischievous glint made it's way into her eyes, "I'll see you later, Granger."
The conflict in the passageway had cost Abigail valuable time. She had never been out of the common room past sunrise, she had always gotten back on time. The other girls in her year knew she snuck off, and they understood why. She just didn't want to have to explain to anyone who happened to be downstairs, or younger girls who were up early.
Grabbing her jacket from behind her usual statue, she slipped it on before whispering the password and walking into the fire lit room. Obviously, luck wasn't on Abigail Harvey's side this morning when it came to chance encounters and delays. She could only thank whatever god there was that it was a Saturday and she didn't have to leave her cozy bed until that afternoon.
"Abigail," the voice was a familiar one, but unwanted all the same. Smooth as silk, Draco Malfoy 's voice almost always got to her. But she was already out of the "conflict" mood from Potter and the lovebirds.
They were a lot alike, Draco and Abigail. They both had a knack for manipulation, that cold exterior, the public opinion of the lower class of magical beings. The need, or what was really the fear, to fulfill the demands of their parents and elders. They both took great pride in being powerful in the situation at hand, and they both created the illusion that they were constantly in control. They had worked well together in the past, but Abigail was just fine with change.
"That is my name," she kept on walking, but he had other plans.
"We need to talk, Abi-" he had grabbed her arm, right on the bruise and though he loosened his grip at her wince, he didn't let go.
Taking matters into her own hands, she yanked her arm out of his grasp, "You know, I am really getting tried of people touching me without my consent."
"I didn't need your consent before," Draco said, his voice quiet.
"Things change, Malfoy, you know that," she sneered, implying that he was at fault for said change.
"They don't have to."
"You're actions caused the change in my willingness to touch you or speak to you," Abigail shook her head, "You and your fathers. Now this conversation is over, Malfoy."
"Why are you being such a stubborn brat about this?" he rounded on her, anger flashing in his grey orbs, "Why can't you just let it go? We didn't know he would come back, let alone your sorry excuse for a mother would so readily forgive his past actions!"
She visibly tensed losing control as her temper rose, "It's my life, that's why! You didn't protect me from him, you didn't do a thing when I showed up at your house beaten into oblivion and you most certainly did nothing while your father sent me home half fixed up to let it all happen again!"
"Abiga-" he started, but she had developed a knack for interrupting people's speeches today with her own.
"No, Draco. I will not go back to how it was," she shook her head. Desperation filled her pretty blue eyes, darkening the color, "I just won't. And I'm going to do anything it takes to ensure it."
As she shoved herself past him and began her walk to the showers she ignored his protests that had turned into threats, she wasn't afraid of him. She knew him to well to know that she could handle anything he dished out. She knew him well enough to know that he wouldn't fulfill any of his words.
The confrontation had been overheard, although only by one soul. Quickly hiding in the shadows as a the girl stalked past, the figure made a silent vow to help with this anything Abigail had spoken of. After all, she knew all about the need to preserve yourself.
"He wasn't talking about Harry," Hermione mumbled, sudden realization dawned on her.
"What was that, 'Mione?" Harry asked, he was sure he had heard his name. The rest of it, he didn't catch.
The were sitting outside, under a tree by the lake with some of the other members of the D.A. The weather was great, not too hot but not fall yet either. They had all been idly chatting before Hermione had uttered the words.
"Dumbledore," Hermione looked at them all, that familiar look that she was on to something in her eyes as she looked at them all. Her fingers gripped the book in her hand, "This summer he said, 'Sometimes the most broken souls are the one's worth fighting for, my friends.'"
"Yeah, I thought he was talking about Harry and his depressing mood lately," Ginny shrugged, but there was a noise of agreement from everyone. Harry just rolled his eyes and muttered, "Thanks, Mates."
"I did too, at first. But then I got to thinking about it, and why would he tell us that about something like that about Harry? We already know about his moods," She explained, "Not that we don't understand, Harry."
"Well who do you think he was talking about?" Neville asked.
"Yeah, Dumbledore loves riddles, so I guess it not being Harry would make sense," Ginny was leaning up on her elbows, watching Hermione with interest.
Despite the fact that Luna was, well, a bit loony, she did tend to have her moments of genius. Hermione had to hand it to her for figuring it out before anyone else did. The blonde had developed a secret obsession with the girl in question a few years back, when her shoes had magically reappeared in the middle of Muggle Studies. Abigail had grown tired of the shoes being hidden around school, so she returned them. It was a simple act, but Luna had been convinced that the other girl was the only one to not be infested by some creature only known to herself in the Slytherin House.
"Abigail Harvey," her airy voice they were used to, the name out her mouth- they were not.
"Harvey?" Ron asked, his voice disbelieving.
"As in that Slytherin girl who threatened to shop off Crabbe and Goyle's feet yesterday?" Neville asked.
"Yes, that Abigail." Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Why would Dumbledore even think about linking us to one of them?" Harry asked.
"Because she could help you," they all turned at the same time to see someone most unexpected. Hands crossed over their chest, "Because we could help you."