The Hunger
Chapter 1: One Last Night
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
A/N: This is a rather rough edit. I thought I would post the idea, and see how it went, I have a different direction to take this story in if all else fails.
A lone figure lay on a dirty park bench, looking at the night sky so far above her head. Hermione took one last drag of the cigarette dangling from her pouty lips. Blowing a small smoke ring, Hermione sat up, and grabbed her forehead, as a wave of dizziness came over her. It was Hermione's last evening of summer, before returning to Hogwarts for her final year. She dreaded this more than anything; the changes that had occurred over her two-month absence would not be expected or accepted for that matter.
The Hogwarts express chugged merrily along, as three friends sat in the evening light, talking and laughing. The compartment door was suddenly thrown wide open, as a certain blonde Slytherin made his presence known.
"Well, well if it isn't the Golden Trio, Pothead, Measel, and hmm.. Mudblood? No. How about huge know-it-all, and not huge as in brain size either." Malfoy's laugh was covered by the enraged shouts of Ron and Harry. Both of them had jumped up at his entrance and were now yelling at the top of their lungs in defense. The only one who was silent was the curly-haired Hermione, who was staring down at the carpet, wishing to somehow melt into it. As Malfoy left the compartment with a merry chuckle, and a sarcastic 'toodles' Harry and Ron finally noticed that Hermione hadn't moved. Ron slid near the fragile Gryffindor, and placed an arm around her shoulders. Harry sat across from the pair, watching his best friend intently.
"Come on Hermione; don't let that slimy git get you down, we all know that nothing he says is true, chin up." Ron shook Hermione ever so slightly, as if to cheer her up. Harry, who had stopped paying attention to what the arrogant git said after his 'Pothead' comment, shrugged and in a cheery tone said,
"Really, Hermione, you know you're not a Know-It-All, don't listen to him, ever." Hermione smiled up at both of them as a sign of recognition and proceeded to pretend that everything was ok. Really, she was dying inside at the words of the blonde Slytherin. Hermione knew she wasn't a skinny girl nor was she huge, but still she had never been a skinny girl, her appearance had never been important. However, she had begun to notice how every skinny pretty girl in Hogwarts had an adorable loving boyfriend, even her so-called best friends had flings for some part of the school year. Harry had dated Ginny, and Ron had dated Lavender, much to everyone's surprise, so Hermione began to feel that maybe if she was skinny and pretty, like every other girl in school somebody would love her. Malfoy's words had confirmed her worse fears and her best friends' absence of support just made it worse.
For the rest of the train ride Hermione had pretended that everything was alright, but Malfoy's words stayed in her brain, eating at her soul.
As Hermione walked back home through the dimly lit streets, she pondered her summer and what had happened to make her this way.
For the first week of summer vacation, Hermione received daily pleas to join her friends at the Burrow, all of which she refused. Her friends were only going to tell her how fat she was, while going and dating some cute little witch, meaning Ginny and Lavender. Hermione couldn't bear it, and so she stayed home. Everything had been fine, until, about a month into summer Hermione had met Johnny, she had run into him one evening, while running in the park. Hermione had been on a very tight diet, eating almost nothing, and running miles a day, as a result, had lost tremendous amounts of weight, and looked frail. In her mind, she was still fat, ugly and when she ran into sexy Johnny, had almost run the other way.
"Hello, there, sorry about getting in your way." Johnny had a slivery, romantic voice, that Hermione longed to catch. It was the only thing that kept her from running away fast.
"No…my fault…sorry…didn't…see…you" Hermione said between jagged breathes.
"You should be careful running so late, a pretty thing like you could get lost, or worse hurt." His teeth were white in the darkness, and Hermione felt him taking a step closer. Strangely she wasn't afraid, not yet at least.
"You should let me walk you home, wouldn't want some stranger to hurt you." That slippery smooth voice was intoxicating, and Hermione nodded, much to her inner disbelief. She began to head down the street, and he followed, keeping an easy distance between them. Hermione snatched another look at him as they headed into a splash of light on the sidewalk. Johnny had a lean muscular body, visible through the side of his black sleeve-less t-shirt, this hung over a bullet belt holding up a pair of mid-calf cut off cameo pants. Johnny's eyes twinkled, and he ran a hand through his shortish midnight hair.
"Like what you see?" His eyes said something different that Hermione didn't quite catch.
"I am really trying to decide how old you are," she said with a small shrug.
"Oh?" Once again there appeared to be hidden meanings, but Hermione seemed deaf to them.
"17, no 18?" Hermione questioned nervously.
"Right, 18, good guess," Johnny noticed that Hermione had stopped. She was staring at one of the brown suburban homes that lined the street.
"Your home, I guess.." Johnny's voice faded off as Hermione looked back towards his face. She desperately did not want to leave this exciting new stranger, but her good-girl instincts told her to head in the house. Hermione glanced at the darkened two-story, and began to head towards the gate leading to the weathered front door, when she felt a hand on her wrist.
"Say…You wouldn't be up for a party this coming Saturday, would you?" Johnny looked into Hermione's hazel eyes, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. He slipped a crinkled slip of paper into her sweaty palm.
"This is my phone number, call me when you make a decision, or you know, just call me." Johnny muttered, before letting go of Hermione, and sauntering down the quiet street. Hermione stared down the lane as he rounded the corner, shaking her head, Hermione pondered the slip of paper in her hand.
Lost in her memories, Hermione almost trudged past her own house. She silently crept towards the back door, leading out to the garden. Clicking open the handle, she silently kicked off her grey high-tops, and whispered her way down the hall. Stopping at the bottom rung of an ancient and creaky staircase, Hermione listened for the stirring of any of her family members. When no one made a sound, Hermione began to creep up the darkened staircase. Reaching the hall, she paused again, waiting to make sure the coast was clear. Silently she entered her room, and had to resist the urge to scream.
A/N: So there we go, and it is rated M for a reason, the reason may not be apparent YET, but it will be very very soon.