Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Harry Potter books, nor ever will. All rights and most of my inspiration to JK Rowling and Warner Brothers.

Consequential Events

Chapter One: Banished

(Christmas Holidays in the Seventh Year-HBP not taken into account)

Hermione

Hello,

I am not sure where I should begin, with my adventures in secondary school? Well maybe I should start with the groups in my school, social groups. Firstly everyone had their friends and friendship groups, those awkward teenager that fitted more or less into the stereotypical student. To name just a few of these groups: Goths, Quidditch People, Preps and Gossips, and of course the inspired Good looking guys and girls. I only fitted into one group; I mean I was friends with others, it just well I was a nerd.

I use to ask teachers for extra assignments and projects, just to fill the empty time I spent in my dormitory. None of the girls in my year really understood me. The girls in my year and house, Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown both thinking I was somewhat lacking in any 'real' area of interest left me alone after third year. That not the worst part, I can handle being by myself, it is just they pitied me. Pity I never would have associated that word with myself, but you can see it in there eyes every time they look at me. Pity.

My name is Hermione Jane Granger. Buck-toothed nerd, friends with the avid Quidditch obessessees Harry James Potter and Ronald Billus Weasley. Some consider us hero's, leaders even but I can't lead, I am good with books but not people. I freeze up, stutter when scared and blush almost constantly. Now I find myself in my seventh and last year at Hogwarts and socially I have just realised I have achieved nothing. I can't relate with people, and never get to close to anyone other than Harry and Ron and most importantly have never fallen in love. I declare to this diary I have never been kissed.

True and I might even venture somewhat sad. Under the mass of brown hair, there is a girl with passion trying to get out, and I am not talking passion with books. I hope in this laptop diary that I can endeavour to explore the inner workings of my mind. Hopefully even record a true to life representation of myself. However that maybe a task somewhat out of my narrow minded reach. Isn't it so that we only really act ourselves when unaware of actions, how can I record accurately them if I can only scrutinise my immediate thoughts?

Hermione Granger.

Draco

Dear Diary,

It has been about three months since I have seen him last. Stupid. I was so stupid last summer. I mean I did everything I could to try to get his attention but now I have it I have realised. I should have just kept my head down and stayed out of the serpent's pit. Father's Pit.

Now Christmas is on it's way I have to spend two weeks at home. Last time I just stayed in my room. I guess I'll try to work, everyday. Sad really. It's not that I need the money, I just need to escape.

God if I didn't know myself I would think I was a druggie (For the record those rumours are not true). However I feel like everything I have is slipping away. Pansy has no idea; I came close to telling her. But I think she has a hero-complex and 'hero being beaten up by his father' doesn't fit with her cosy world.

That one of the things I envy, her ability to turn a blind eye to all of the dirty things in the world. She really believes the system is perfect. I thought I loved her once. And I do in a way, but she isn't really the one I see who could heal my slits.

-Draco Malfoy

Draco

I walked around the mansion listlessly. Dad was having some sort of dinner party and I was banished to the upper floors. This was to protect the guests from seeing my black eye and fractured jaw. Dad refused to heal it; the ministry has been watching his use of magic since his early release. I knew if I was silent and stayed in his good books he would use Mum's wand to heal me.

I past my favourite Great-Uncle's portrait "Draco! What happened to you?" he asked urgently.

"Quidditch." I replied instantly.

The old man seemed to buy it "game of brutes, you want to watch your self. A beater I suspect, am I right?"

I nodded "Remember boy, give out what you get. No one will touch you with your father." My Great Uncle sneered. I smiled widely at the irony despite the pain.

"Yeah, see you around Uncle Ruben." He inclined his head and went back to his eternal game of wizarding chess.

I turned the corridor and followed it till I reached the window at the end. The leaning on the sill I looked up at the ceiling. A small square about the size of an oven door was directly above my head. Thinking about it I had never been in the attic. It would be a perfect place to hide. And technically Dad said I was to remain upstairs and the attic was as about up stairs as you could get right?

I lifted my foot up to the wide sill and pushed myself up so I was standing on the ledge. I leaned slowly forward till I could reach the square and ran my short nails under the edge. The door swung down. Catching the edge I let myself fall off the sill suspended by my now aching arms. I struggled to pull myself up eventually managing to sit myself on the other side of the door in the attic itself.

The first thing that struck me was that it was dark, very dark. I could see a window caked in dust. Curiously I stood up closing the door behind me. The attic was set out in a series of rooms, mirroring the lay out of the rooms below. However nothing was decorated, just a white washed cream. The floor was unsanded wood and above me was just rafters. Some I could reach and I daydreamed as I walked of swing my self up there and perching like an owl.

I walked on, and then stopped. If the attic rooms mirrored the rooms below then my room had an attic room. Curiously I walked on to search out 'my attic room'. I came across it quickly; it was so strange in this dusty half-light. Is this what it would have been like if I had never been born. The walls were exactly like the ones before white washed cream. The room looked so empty without my bed.

I heard a muffled slam under me. I could here my mother calling my name underneath me. Surprised I stepped back then crept into my attic on en-suit bathroom. Looking at the floor I found a small square. Bingo.

Praying that the door to the bathroom was closed I opened the hatch like door and swung my legs down, then myself. The door was closed- thank Merlin. Pushing the hatch closed I turn and swiftly opened my door.

"Mother?" I asked.

She turned adorned in a white summer dress and a variety of bruise concealing charms. Her face contorted in to a look of motherly concern as she looked at my face. "Oh my darling, here" She whispered a healing charm and placed a kiss on my cheek. The dull throb of pain disappeared and she smiled.

"Just came to check on you. Look after yourself and you have an owl." She gestured to a half dead post owl. She left and I crossed the room to my desk to read my letter.

It was Pansy's weekly letter. I threw it on my bed before digging around in my desk. Draw for owl treats.

Hermione

Morning,

I woke up today and the sun was streaming through the dusty windows at Grimmauld Place. It was by far not the most beautiful sight in the world. However I still found time to appreciate the way the light fell around Ginny and my room.

I suppose Christmas is a time for the family, but Dad had a dinner party and although I wasn't banished I made it perfectly clear I didn't want to bore the guests. Mum understands more than Dad, she said I could either stay upstairs in my room or go to Grimmauld for Christmas. If it is a choice between my friends and myself even the social recluse of me voted Harry and Ron.

Harry got me a paper diary, he knows I keep a laptop and that isn't any help at Hogwarts, is it? I got him a book on defence of the dark arts and white chocolate owl treats for Hedwig.

Ron got me a book on Psychology; I have had some really interesting conversations with him explaining what I know about the human mind. Ron is as fascinated by it as me. In his words it would be a brilliant Aurora who could predict Death Eaters movements just by meeting him. I got Ron a set of art quills and inks and chocolate covered raisins for Pig. Ron loves to doodle so it was perfect for him.

Well got to give Ginny her present, a muggle CD of The Cardigans, she said she like my music and it will go well with the walkman her parents bought her.

Write later,

Hermione Granger

Draco

Dear Diary,

I have just got back from St. Mungo's. I'll tell you what happened, I was sitting in my room becoming reacquainted with my father's supply of Fire whiskey and wondering about my future. It seemed so obvious all of it, Potter would win the war, Mother and Father would have lifetime imprisonment at the least and I would be left at the Malfoy Mansion alone.

In my hideously distracted state I didn't realise I cut to far in to my wrists with my knife. I had been just slashing but in my drunken stupor I manage to severe my tendons and several arteries.

My arteries have a long-suffering history, first with my own knife and then with that rabid Hippogrith. Each time I dutifully repaired then with my wand. However have you ever thought that once to cut the tendons you can't hold a wand, let alone 'swish ad flick'. So basically cut to deep and you are fucked, wizard or not.

My butler found me. He is a squib, called Johnson. Worked for my family for years and took a liking to me as a child. In fact he is more like a father really. He floo-ed me to St. Mungo's, I was released before mother and father could be called and Johnson using every ounce of discretion he had, lied to my father to save my hide.

I would receive the torture curse for less, and Johnson knew that. So he lied and father has no idea his son and heir has a death wish.

Dreading my Imminent Hangover Always,

-Draco Malfoy

Thanks for Reading!

Don't feel obligated to review, but I do love reading them. Wishing good weather to all for the summer- Shivvahna Rea.