Chapter One

Disclaimer- I own nothing but the plot; bow down to JK Rowling for the characters, not myself.

Hermione was on the train to Hogwarts on September first; as usual, it was raining rather hard outside her window, which matched her mood greatly. She had no intention whatsoever of conversing with Harry or Ron today; sure, she hadn't seen them in a while, but she didn't feel comfortable with the surely-known question of how her summer went.

In short, Hermione's hair was now black; as were her fingernails, eyelids, and clothes.. Many of you might would call her gothic, but she was beyond that. Hermione didn't feel she fit into any certain mold of someone else's perspective... But her change in style definitely reflected her summer in more than one way.

You know how they say that gothic people are just trying to express the way the feel on the inside, which is dark and lonely? She was sort of like that. When she arrived home from Hogwarts for the summer, she found a note on her bed from her mother - a very brief and vague note, might I add - that told of her mother and stepfather's whereabouts; they were spending the summer in Bermuda, and she wasn't invited.

But after re-reading it, she noticed that it said "stepfather."

"Stepfather? What? When did that happen?" she thought to herself. "Where's my dad!"

As if on cue, she heard a telephone ring downstairs, and calling out to no one in particular, she yelled, "Oh, dammit."

"Hello?" Hermione asked into the receiver.

"Yes, is this Hermione Granger? I need a word." and unfamiliar voice said to her.

It turned out that the strange voice on the phone was her father's father, with the fateful news of why her father wasn't there.

"Yes, sweetheart... I know I've never actually been involved with your family, but I feel the need to tell you the terrible news since your mother is in no state to, considering her spontaneous remarriage and honeymoon to Bermuda. You see, around Christmas break of last year, while you were at that school... Wherever it is... Your father became very depressed..."

Hermione listened in silence to the explanation that basically led to her father's suicide; he had been depressed because of her mother, who had basically turned into a bitch since Hermione started her sixth year at school. She couldn't believe it; why in God's name had no one told her!

But anyway, since her mother left for the summer, Hermione had to fend for herself for two solid months, which after a while became quite gruesome and forced her into her own little hole of depression.

Hermione, however, would never think of suicide, according to everyone else's mental image of her, but of course, she was beyond that image. More than once had she pulled out a handgun and held it to her temple, only then deciding, shakily, to put it back down again... What would suicide improve? But one thing she had started the terrible habit of was cutting.

Now, I don't mean the terribly pathetic emo-cutting where all you do is scratch something into your wrists an inch away from your veins and brag about attempted suicide; I mean real, hardcore cutting. The kind that, if she were a Muggle, would have left her hospitalized for days to try to gain her blood supply back.

But she managed to live through the summer, and here she was, on this damned train back to school; but at least it wasn't her house, which had become her own personal hell in the last few months.

One good thing that had happened is that she had been chosen as head girl for Hogwarts, which was plenty exciting for her, though she didn't show it. So Hermione was sitting quietly, listening to the new Hawthorne Heights cd, when in walked none other than Draco Malfoy.

"May I help you?" Hermione asked impatiently; she didn't feel like putting up with him today.

"Uh, isn't this the head's compartment?"

"Yes."

"Then I'm in the right spot," Draco said, getting comfortable on the seat opposite Hermione.

Of course, he made head boy; with that stupid jackass smirk, why wouldn't he?

But Hermione only turned up the Hawthorne Heights cd louder and closed her eyes, as to not hear anything that Malfoy might have to say to her.

Suddenly, Hermione realized the train was coming to a halt; she figured she must have fallen asleep, but pushed it aside and stepped off the train to do whatever heads were supposed to do. And so it went, she helped the first years along, as well as everyone else, and made her way into the great hall to feast.

Harry and Ron finally found Hermione and made her sit with them instead of at the head's table. They claimed they needed to catch up, which was what Hermione was most afraid of.

"You guys, I missed you tons..." she said.

"Well, how was your summer, Hermione?" Harry asked, as Hermione predicted.

"Well.. I'm not really up for talking about it just yet Harry.. But I promise I will later, alright?"

"Alright.. Well, this strawberry tart looks great, dig in.." Harry said, unsure of what she meant by that.

"If only they knew," Hermione said, knowing she'd have to tell them tonight in order to keep her promise.. But she didn't know if she was willing to do that just yet.

Much too soon for Hermione's wishing, the feast was over and everyone was to go up to their dormitories. As she was making her way up, Professor Dumbledore caught her by the arm and asked for a word with her.

"Hermione," he started, "I know about your summer, and I'd just like to offer my deepest apologies to you."

"Thank you, Professor," she mumbled quietly.

"As you should know, the heads of houses get their own special dormitory, but if you'd like, you can stay one night in your old room; I'm sure you, Harry, and Ron have some catching up to do.. I personally believe you should tell them, Hermione.." And as he said this, Hermione saw the twinkle in his eye and knew it'd be for the better if her two best friends knew.

As Hermione slowly made her way up the winding stairs to the Gryffindor common room, Harry and Ron came up behind her, nearly scaring her to death.

"What was that for!" she exclaimed.

"We know something isn't right, Hermione, we aren't dumb," Harry said cautiously, not wanting to hurt her feelings or be overbearing.

"And you know we're always here for you, mate! We'd never give up on you, ever!" Ron added.

Hermione, not wanting to use many words to explain her situation, slowly rolled up her long sleeve of her left arm and pushed the arm warmer down.

Harry and Ron both gasped unbelievingly at the scars running down her arm.

Although, one of them looked fresh.. As though she had just done it, only hours ago.

Okay, is it an okay first chapter? This is my third fic, but I haven't had the same pen name for everything, it keeps closing them! Lol, yeah anyway, REVIEW PEOPLE! PLEASE, I LIVE FOR THEM!