Disclaimer: I'll only say it once, so as not to detract from the story in later chapters. However, it applies to the entire story. Okay? Okay. I do not own Harry Potter. Not even a fraction of it. The only things to which I can lay claim are the original characters, and likely the plot. Nothing else.

Preface: I originally wrote this story more than 10 years ago. It is still listed under this profile as "Hermione's Wounds" if you're curious and don't want to wait for me to finish posting this revision. I'll warn you it's pretty awful, though. It was my first public foray into extended creative writing (just as it is my first time trying my hand at creative in much this time, too). It was also a way for me to pen my own feelings through the eyes of a long-favourite character.

I tried returning to the story a few times before now, actually, but life always managed to catch up with me and steal me away again. I honestly can't promise it won't happen this time, too, but I've recently received some alerts which brought my attention back to it. I do still want to tell this story and do it the justice it deserves. Those who read the original may notice some big changes – and not just in my writing level. I hope this only improves the story in your eyes, as it does in mine.

This story is for anyone who has felt as Hermione has in this tale. I know it's difficult to see, or believe, a strong character like Hermione in this light. However, it's because of that which makes me want to revisit the story and tell it believably. Anyone can be hiding these same thoughts, feelings, and experiences behind a strong façade. But I digress. I'll do my best to revive and revise this story, and will try not to leave it abandoned as I have in the past. Please pardon my progress.

Rating: Mature Teen
Warnings: Sensitive Topic/Issue/Theme, Self-Injury, Mental Illness, Violence, Death
Setting: Seventh Year, Alternate Universe (the original was written before the books were finished – for the purposes of my story, Voldemort was defeated during the battle at the Ministry of Magic during their Fifth Year)

~Prologue: Holding Back~

A week into their Seventh Year at Hogwarts found the Golden Trio of Gryffindor, war heroes who only sought to be treated as normal teenagers like their peers, sitting in their favourite armchairs by the fire. Harry Potter ruffled his permanently messy hair in frustration as he lost another of his chess pieces to Ron in their game of Wizard's Chess. The freckled redhead let out a whoop of triumph and looked around the room before turning to the petite brunette nestled into the chair nearest them, "Did you see that, 'Mione?"

The girl in question didn't speak immediately; instead she simply furrowed her brow in response as she finished reading her current passage in the Transfiguration tome sitting open on her lap. As she finished, she placed a delicate finger to mark her place before closing the book and bringing her brown orbs to meet his expectant blue, "Huh?" Hermione followed the indication of his hand to the chessboard and shook her head apologetically, "Oh, I'm sorry, but no. I'm sure it was marvelous, though! I'm sorry. It's just that I'm behind on my reading so I've been trying to catch up." She spoke sincerely , but the redhead had already turned away before she'd begun her explanation.

Ron at least did his best not to appear too defeated at the idea that no one but his opponent had witnessed his brilliant, beautifully executed strategy. Instead he simply shrugged and turned his attention back to the game, shrewdly assessing his next move in response to the one Harry had made during his brief moment of inattention.

Harry leaned forward and gave a friendly pat to Hermione's knee and set his emerald eyes on her. She jerked slightly, surprised by the contact; she shot him a wary smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "It's alright, Hermione. Four, instead of five, read-throughs before classes really get underway isn't so bad. Especially not with your brilliant mind. I'm sure you've got them all memorized already, so don't worry so much!" He shot her a boyish grin as he squeezed her knee comfortingly.

Her shy smile grew almost imperceptibly as she nodded, her cheeks tinged a light pink. Satisfied with her response, Harry gave her leg one more reassuring pat before turning to back to his game with Ron. Surveying the chess board quickly, he groaned in frustration upon seeing his knight being dragged off the playing field. Running a hand through his hair again, he moaned, "Oh, come off it! It was just a bloody pawn!"

Hermione let out an inaudible sign of relief once she was no longer under their scrutiny. In truth, Harry was right about one thing. Usually, before the start of the semester, she would read each course book at least five times. But this time wasn't her fourth read-through as he had assumed. It was, in fact, her first. She let her small shoulders droop at the thought. Not only that, but she hadn't even been processing the words on the page when Ron had pulled her out of her reading as her thoughts were distracting her beyond her ability to rein them in and focus as she wished.

She held in another sigh that longed to escape as she glanced up at her friends again. They were the best mates; she knew it was thanks to them that she normally felt so grounded and at ease. Without them, she'd be wound tighter than a loaded spring – instead, they helped to put a spring in her step. The three had been through so much together throughout the years, especially the integral roles they had each played in bringing down Lord Voldemort at the end of their Fifth Year at Hogwarts. So, how is it that I can look Death in the eye with these two at my side without flinching, but I can't bring myself to tell them? she wondered.

The now all-too familiar tingling at the corners of her eyes alerted her to the tears threatening to build as her mind began to wander to those thoughts. A light panic overtook and her heartbeat quickened; she couldn't afford for anyone to see her in a state of weakness. No, an outward appearance of control and calm were essential to her sanity. Without thinking, Hermione stood from her chair, forgetting the book in her lap. It fell to the floor at her feet with a large 'thwump', causing everyone in the room to jump at the sudden noise. They turned to stare, Harry and Ron included.

She felt the embarrassment creeping up her cheeks, reddening her normally olive skin, and the prickling in the corners of her eyes grow stronger in response. The witch quickly ducked her head and hid her face behind a curtain of unruly waves as she bent to pick up her hardback, "Sorry. I just remembered something. Sorry. I'm just going to head upstairs now…and, er…I think maybe I'll just nap a bit before dinner. Sorry."

Harry and Ron shared a look before the latter shrugged and turned back to the chessboard between them. He was much too close to tasting his first victory of the school year and could not afford to think much on anything else until that moment. "Sleep well, 'Mione!" was all he gave in response to accompany the hearty smile he threw in her direction without taking his eyes off the game.

However, Harry's raven brows furrowed as he surveyed his best female friend. She wasn't the type to grow so flustered and self-conscious over simple mistakes – he and the younger Weasleys had been sure to groom that particular trait out of her over the years, after all. And she certainly wasn't the sort of person to apologize so profusely over a nonissue, either. "'Mione…?" he began, slowly reaching a hand out to touch her shoulder, as she was still crouched over her book on the ground. Suddenly, she stood, shaking her hair from her face before flashing him a wide smile.

Then she turned on her heel just as quickly, "Don't look so concerned, Harry. I'm just a bit tired and realized my eyes need to rest if I'm going to finish this book tonight." At the bottom of the stairs, she met his eye with another quick smile and nod before disappearing behind the girls' tapestry.

Still feeling inexplicably uneasy, Harry stared after her for many moments after the cloth had fallen back into place. It was Ron's constant muttering under his breath which brought him to shake his head and shoulders, trying to rid himself of the feeling, and turn his attention back to the board. His mind was easily drawn back into the game as he witnessed the destruction Ron had wrought upon his pieces during his mental absence.

After climbing to the top of the spiral staircase, Hermione paused in front of the seventh year girls' dormitory door, taking a deep breath to calm herself and regain some semblance of control before turning the knob and stepping over the threshold. She was grateful to her mental foresight, as Lavender, Parvati, and Morgan were all sat atop the former's bed and perusing the newest issue of Witch Weekly together when Hermione walked in, their attention drawn to her entrance.

Immediately, they made a move to create a space for her next to them on the bed in invitation for her to join in their fun. Although Harry and Ron were her best friends, she had managed to grow closer to the other witches in her year over time. They didn't always see eye-to-eye, but had long learned how to work past their differences with each other. As a result, they had managed to bring Hermione's more feminine side out of her shell, and she liked to think she'd helped in rounding out their interests over the years, too.

Now, though, Hermione only offered a friendly, albeit small, smile and shook her head at the magazine they were proffering. "No, thanks. Sorry. I actually just came to have a kip before dinner. Sorry. Don't worry about bothering me, though. I'll cast a charm, so you can titter away as usual." She said the last with a playful smirk, earning giggles and a, "Sleep well, 'Mione." in response. As their attention fell back to the pages, Hermione sighed quietly before ducking through the hangings around her bed and closing them behind her.

Once out of eyesight, her face fell. She brandished her wand and cast a Silencing Charm to block out their voices, as promised, as well as a Muffliato Charm to quiet her own. Once again, she was grateful for her foresight as the wetness welling in her bottom eyelids soon overflowed against her will.

Hermione shoved the backs of her hands at her eyes, but she could not stem the waves of salt streaming down her face. Despite having cast her charms, she was thankful her tears were silent. Her hands shook as she placed her wand and Transfiguration book on the shelf that comprised her headboard. Feeling desperate for relief from the pain gathering in her chest due to the onslaught of emotions, she hugged a pillow tightly to her. Quickly exhausting herself from the physical effort she was exerting to squeeze the pillow and keep her tears silent, she let herself fall unceremoniously back onto the blankets and closed her eyes.

But the relief of sleep would not come. Instead of dreams, upsetting images flashed through the witch's mind in quick succession. Soon her tears turned to wracking sobs coupled with a pounding headache, as the strength of her memories' assault on her emotions only grew.