Keep Holding On

M for language and adult themes.

Pairings: Dramione, Ginny/Harry

Summery: Hermione isn't the same girl she used to be. She's been abused and tortured during the war. She saw her friends die, she saw her home fall apart. She can't handle her fights with her boyfriend, Ron, and the boys need her help with the simpilist tasks. She's had enough. When she attempts suicide and fails, who will be there to pull her out of her depression? And will Draco be able to stop the man who made her world fall apart when he comes back for more?

Chapter One- Something Wicked This Way Comes.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters in this story. The only thing I own is the plot line of this fic. I don't own any songs, books or movies mentioned in this fic and I don't own the songs on which these chapters are based.

A/N: Please R&R. I want opinions! Each chapter is based on a song, weather it looks like it or not. This one is based loosely on Jar Of Hearts (mostly because I was listening to it at the time) I'm not sure why I've named this chapter "Something Wicked This Way Comes" but there you go. I'll give you a link to the fan mix that accompanies this fic when it's finished.

Back for another year at Hogwarts, my last one.

I wondered around the grounds, watching the leaves fall of trees, floating so softly to the ground. I didn't mind the way the cold cut through my thin jumper, I like the cold. It reminded me of when Mum, Dad and I went camping when I was younger. Everyone else was inside, Ginny, Harry and Ron were studying in the library with Draco Malfoy. He'd ended up being quite helpful during the war and became good friends with us all, even me. He called me Granger now, instead of 'Mudblood'. It was a great improvement, I guess he worked out I didn't need reminding ten times a day when I only had to look at my arm.

I'd reached the edge of the forest by now. I touched my arm with thinking about it. It didn't happen much, only on the occasion when I was totally alone, which for me, seemed a lot these days.
I'd never felt so bad before, like being surrounded by Dementors, seeing and feeling them at every turn. I knew what they called it in the Muggle world, but I wasn't strong enough to admit it yet.
Gryffindor's are meant to be strong and brave, albeit a little stupid at times. I don't know about anyone else, but I didn't feel like I deserved to be there anymore, I didn't feel like I belonged anywhere anymore.

Sighing, I headed back towards the beautiful castle, un-seen to Muggle eyes. It had become a second home to me, but my heart still broke as I walked through it's walls, remembering the beautiful times, seeing the smiling faces that were no longer with us. The war took a toll on all of us, people we loved lost us and new friendships were made. We lost everything, I lost more than some. My parents, my hope, my courage, my innocence.
It was taken from me, stolen like piece of precious information from an old, fragile school book in the never ending library of my life.
It was only natural, after being subdued to torture that you would try and be strong, I was for a while, I helped everyone with what they did, I helped save the wizarding world …
But after a while, you let everyone else's pain and anger flow on to you, you start letting your own anger at the world rear its ugly black head. I never meant for that night to happen, god only knows I'd replayed it enough times in my head. The little piece of metal. Who would of thought that something so small, could have done what it did.

It was a small class room, close to Professor McGonagall's old office, but rarely ever used. It had enough space for about fifteen students, but the desks were covered in a thick layer of dust. I sometimes came here when I needed to cry, it was better than the Room of Requirement. Much smaller and interment. The windows were bordered up, so no sun light got through. I didn't know that she kept all her Transfiguration papers and books in her old office, if I had of done, I wouldn't have tried that day.
It had all gotten the better of me, Ron and I kept fighting, I couldn't stop myself from drifting off to sleep and seeing his face in my dreams, those eyes that haunted me. I'd toss and turn in my sleep, cry even, knowing that the man that did this to me was still at large.
It hadn't taken much to turn a small branch into a small razor, I don't even remember how I'd done it, but I had. I remember sitting down on the ground in the small space I'd cleared for myself in the middle of the room, I remember myself lighting the flame in the jar so I could see, I'd forgotten to lock the door. I remember pulling the razor out and sitting it in front of me. I pulled up my sleeve, the one on the same arm with Mudblood carved deep into my flesh. I remember picking up the razor, tears falling not so silently down my face. I still remember the way I'd pressed it into my skin on my wrist, above where my heritage could be seen by the world, I dragged the sharp object across my wrist. I let out a heart wrenching cry as blood poured from my wrist. It flowed freely from the wound I'd self-inflicted. I didn't cry from the pain I couldn't feel but from the memories. Being late on a Sunday night, I never expected someone to hear me. So I made another cry, I was shaking from tears, noisy tears that wouldn't stop, I saw his face again in my minds eyes. I sliced, once, twice, three more times until there were five perfect line surrounding the one thing that had and would haunt me for the rest of my life. There was so much blood, and I was crying so hard. There wasn't much light, so when McGonagall opened the door, she had to light the tip of her wand to see. She didn't notice at first, she simply asked what I was doing in an un-used class room, crying. I couldn't answer her, I didn't remember much, but I remember her looking down and seeing the blood and the scars, old and new.
The next thing I knew, she was sitting next to me, healing my wounds.

"What happened?" She asked, shocked at finding me like this.

"Please don't tell Ron and Harry"

That had been only a couple of days ago, I hadn't been taken to the Hospital Wing, I had refused to let her take me. McGonagall had done it herself and wasn't quite as good as Madam Pomphrey. My arm would go back to normal after a few days, the scars would remain there but that's about it. The skin will be a bit tender and sore for a few days though.

I heard the bell, and headed back to class, one of my favorites, Transfiguration. I'd promised to talk to Professor McGonagall after the lesson about why I'd done what I did. I knew I could tell her and she wouldn't tell anyone else.
I reached the classroom, a seat had been saved for me next to my boyfriend, Ron Weasley. He was a wonderful boyfriend, I made him happy. Which was the only reason I hadn't broken up with him. But we fought a lot. The first thing I noticed that was odd was Malfoy speaking to Professor McGonagall at her desk, she had a worried look in her eyes. I nodded to her on my way past her desk, she nodded back. Malfoy turned and looked at me, he smiled and took his seat.