A/N: Hi guys. I had a plot bunny attack me late at night and just sort of followed where it lead. This would be a multi-chapter fic, but i'd like to know if you guys think it's worth perusing. If you'd be interested in me continuing the fic, leave me a review or follow it. I'm just not sure how this is going to be received. Thanks once again for checking it out, and I really appreciate all of your support and love. Be warned, I am just uploading this to see how it's received It has not been beta'd and is probably chock full of mistakes including, but not limited to: grammatical, spelling, and americanisms. Please feel free to tell me if you catch anything that shouldn't be there/should be fixed. Ok, I'm done now!

Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling, and if I was, I wouldn't tell y'all anyways! ;)

EDIT 7-12-13: I hopefully caught and fixed all mistakes y'all sent me! Thanks!

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CHAPTER ONE - THE MORNING AFTER

Ginny tapped her foot impatiently outside the large oak door and cast the tempus charm once more: 7:48. What was taking her so bloody long? If she waited any longer, they'd both miss breakfast. Grumbling, the petite ginger banged once more on the 6th year prefect's door.

"Hermione Jean Granger, I know you're in there! Are you coming to breakfast or not? I swear I'll leave without you, you know I will! Open up 'Mione! Hermione!" she barked through the wood, in a very good impression of one who was attempting to awake the dead. Suddenly, from the other side of the door she heard a ruffling of clothes and a muffled sob. Sobering quickly and allowing her anger to diminish, she knocked again, gently. "'Mione, what's wrong? Are you ok in there? I shout at you every morning, but I'm sorry if it was that. Was it that? Let me in so I can help you," she begged. After a moment, as she prepared to break down the door herself, she heard the telltale click of it unlocking and she slowly turned the nob.

It was as if she had entered an alternate universe. The girl's single bed room, which was usually in pristine shape with even her bookcase alphabetically ordered by subject, was a complete mess. Clothes were strewn about the carpet with a skirt littering the back of her chair, another on her desk. Several bras were hanging from the wall, torn to shreds. Her cardigan, which she prided herself with lay in a jumbled heap underneath her bed covered in a reddish brown, sticky mess which she assumed was chocolate or mud. Glass and shards of mirror covered the bed and torn pictures lay charred on the bed table and dresser. She took in all of this but noticed one thing missing: the girl.

"'Mione, I know you're in here," Ginny cooed, turning her head about the room again in search for her friend. A sudden sob erupting from a pile of blouses alerted her to the presence of the bushy haired girl and she rushed to pull her from within. "Talk to me Honey, what happened? Shhhh, I'm right here, you don't need to cry. Are you feeling ill? Would you like me to fetch Madame Pompfry for you?" she suggested. Apparently it was the wrong thing to suggest. The girl pushed her away, as if she had been burned and leapt suddenly to her feet, violently shaking her head.

"No, I can't Ginny. Don't make me go, please!" she wailed. It was only then that she noticed the horrid shape Hermione's body and face were in, similar to her broken room. Large, dark circles lay underneath both eyes, and her hair was completely tangled and puffed out past her shoulders. An angry red handprint marred her left cheek and it looked as if her lip was busted a bit as well. Smallish, purple bruises, no larger than her thumb, dotted her neck and ran all the way down until Ginny could no longer see skin. Hermione had folded her arms around herself again, and burrowed deeper inside her awfully large jumper and joggers. She had a sinking feeling there were many more bruises and cuts underneath the layers of thick material she was hiding beneath. With a shaking sob, Hermione sat back on the floor and curled once again into her protective ball to hide. Ginny knew she had to move slowly, as if she were approaching a frightened animal or small child, so she scooted closer to her shaking friend and gently pulled her to her breast.

"Who did this to you?" she whispered gently rubbing her back. Slowly, she reached a trebling hand toward the jumper sleeve and gave it a slight tug, pulling it beyond the elbow. More purple bruises dotted, and it was then that Ginny recognized that they were fingerprints from a tight grasp, as if someone had held on with all their might. A wet dot joined the purple as Ginny began to cry. "Please, Hermione. I need to get you to the hospital wing. We need to tell someone, to get you medical help," she begged once more. "You don't have to tell me if you're not ready, I just can't bear for you to be in so much pain."

"Ginny, if you are truly my friend you won't. Give me today. I… I can't, I just. Please, give me today. Not yet though, not yet," Hermione whispered, shaking violently once more, finally lifting her chocolate orbs to meet Ginny's own. The pleading, terrified look was what did it.

"Tonight, after dinner I am bringing McGonagall up here. You have today, no more," she conceded, "I'm going to clean off your bed, and you will go to sleep, alright. I'll bring you lunch, and visit before then. I have a free period following Potions. Does that sound ok?" Standing up, she vanished the glass and broken mirror from the sheets, casting a warming spell to make it more comfortable for her friend. She longed to clean the rest of the room, knowing it would bring Hermione peace, but didn't have the time. She gently guided the shaking girl to bed, noting how she winced looking at the mess of her room, and at the sight of her unmade bed, moaning as she laid down. She tucked her in, and placed a comforting kiss on the girl's forehead.

"Sleep, I'm right here in the castle, and I'll be back soon. Promise," Ginny assured her. Hermione nodded once, and then snuggled deeper into the bed, ignoring the tears that had begun to leak once more from her already puffy eyes. Ginny nodded, confident that the girl would finally get some rest, and quietly shut the door. She didn't know what had happened, who had done it, but it had happened in the castle, by someone here and they were going to pay.

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Harry watched as Ron shoved yet another slice of toast into his already full mouth. What was that, 8 or 9 slices now? What Lavender saw in the boy, he would never know. Someone suddenly brushed his arm and he jerked away, before his eyes settled on the long red hair adorning his intruder.

"Hey Ginny," he smiled at her as she squished herself in by his side. The girl dropped her head to the table with an exhausted moan and he chuckled at her theatrics. "What's wrong; didn't get enough sleep?" The fiery red head turned to glare at him, but he saw in her eyes there was something truly the matter. "Hey, what's up, Gin? I can something's bothering you."

"I would tell you if I knew Harry, but I don't. I wish I knew," she sighed, finally lifting her head and grabbing a slice of toast with jam.

"Where's Hermione? She usually comes down with you," he asked, glancing around for the bushy haired braniac. Ginny stiffened beside him, and he threw a confused glance her way.

"Gas… She had really, really bad gas. Don't think she'll be in classes today actually. On account of the gas I mean," she choked out quicker than he thought possible at this early hour. Stuffing the last bit of toast into her mouth, she leapt from the table, "I don't want to be late, bye," she shouted as she darted from the great hall. Odd, very odd.

"Ron, I'm going to go check on Hermione, and bring her some toast for breakfast. Ginny says she's not feeling to well and we have a good hour before class starts," he called to his redheaded friend. Whether the boy heard him or not though was left to question, since he was still deeply engrossed with his girlfriend, and his overflowing breakfast plate.

As he made his way back to the common room, he thought back on Ginny's odd behavior. Perhaps she'd gotten into a fight with Hermione? No, probably not. Why was she so jumpy about it though? When he finally reached her room, he thanked Merlin that she no longer resided on the normal girl's floor; otherwise the staircase wouldn't have allowed him access to her room.

"'Mione," he called, knocking gently on the door, "I heard you're feeling ill and wanted to check on you before class. I'm coming in."

"No," he heard her shout weakly from the other side of the door, "Harry, if you dare step foot into this room, so help me I will hex you into next week!" Merlin did she sound awful. He winced at the crackling in her voice and regretted not bringing some tea with him, along with the toast.

"No need to get angry with me, just let me give you this toast I brought up for you then! I'll come and go quickly," he reasoned. What was she getting her knickers in a twist about? It was just gas after all.

"Ginny told you I'm ill! Then you know I have a high fever and I threw up all over the floor. You'll catch it so you just stay away!" she cried. Wait… What?

"Hermione.., Ginny told me it was gas," he started hesitantly, "I don't know what's going on, but I'm coming in right now," he insisted, opening the door in one swift movement. Gasping, he took in the ramshackle state of the room, "what happened in here?"

"Go away Harry," Hermione began to sob from underneath the bed sheets. Slowly approaching, he sat beside his closest female friend; placing his hand on top of what he assumed was her head.

"What's wrong? Come out from under the sheets and we can talk about it. Ginny seemed pretty shaken up. What happened 'Mione?" He asked her, gently rubbing her back in what he hoped was a calming fashion.

"I can't talk about it Harry, I won't. Not yet. Just go away, don't look at me," she sobbed once again. Look at her. Hermione was never one to care much about appearance or vanity. She wore little make up and reasonable clothes, not really seeing the logic in dressing up for no reason. She was a pretty girl overall, but vain was never something associated with the girl. What had happened, what was she afraid of that she wouldn't even look at him, or let him look at her? Slowly pulling down the sheet covering his friend he noted her fully clad form in a jumper and jogger, with her ever bushy hair covering her face. He gently laid his hand back on her shoulder, causing her to jump, than finally relax back into his touch.

"'Mione, I don't care what you're dressed in. That sort of stuff never mattered to me, you know that. You're my best friend. So, you may look a little sick, we'll help you brush it off!" he proclaimed. She let out a harsh laugh, something very strange coming from her tiny, usually kind mouth, before finally looking him in the eyes. He gasped as he took in the large handprint marring her beautiful features.

"This is why Harry, not because of the clothes," she retorted dryly, hiding her face once more behind her hair. He wouldn't let her hide though, and gently took her chin in his hands, forcing her took look at him again. The print covered the entire left side of her face, and he could tell it was male by the sheer size of it. Her eyes were red and puffy, from what he assumed was hours of crying alone. As his gaze wandered, he noticed the purple bruises along her neck, probably from the same hand, and growled.

"Who did this to you Hermione?" he hissed, gently tracing the print on her face with his fingers. Her rough composure crumbled once again and she collapsed into him, sobbing wildly. He wrapped his arms around her, allowing her some sense of safety and comfort. What had happened? She had been with him in the library, studying until 9. They had walked back to the common room when Madame Pince had shooed them, and done more work in the common room until about 11 or so. He had gone up to bed around 11:30 once he lost interest in his assignments, and she said she'd be getting to bed soon as well. Perhaps it has happened during her rounds? Glancing back down at her shivering form he sighed and wrapped the sheets around her in an attempt to provide a bit of warmth. "Will you tell me later 'Mione?"

"Maybe. I just… I can't talk about it now Harry. I don't know when I'll be able to talk about it. Please, just let me be for now. I just want to be alone," she whispered. He nodded and got off the bed, tucking her in fully once again.

"I'll be back after lunch with Ginny, and we'll talk. 'Mione, I'll find who did this. I promise you," he told her, causing her to sob even harder, "Don't worry, you're going to be ok." He nodded once more toward his friend, and then left her alone in her room. He had to find Ginny, he needed to find answers.

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She sat huddled under her blankets. They couldn't know what he had done to her, how he'd violated her. She'd rather die than let anyone know. It was her fault really, she should have known, she should have been strong. Who would believe her anyways? Who could help her? No one could change her situation. She sobbed quietly and figured that she'd rather be dead than face him again.