AUTHOR'S NOTE: This contains mature language, some violent scenes, and other stuff. This is my first proper-length fic, with immense help from a friend.

Disclaimer: I don't own these people. J. K. Rowling does.

It takes place in 5th year, in the winter.

Hermione ran back to her room, leaving a bruised Draco to fend for himself.

Malfoy's a bloody prat. I'm beautiful. I'm not ugly...no...of course not...

She wearily stepped into the Gryffindor girls' bathroom, wiping her tears and his blood off with her hand.

"Damn him!" She looked up into the mirror, her hair frizzed, her cheeks puffed up. "I'm beautiful...I am...I am..." she whispered fruitlessly to herself.

No wonder he doesn't love me...not when I look like this.Hermione lowered her brown eyes, and then clenched her fists in rage. "This isn't fair!" she cried, the mirror shattering, causing hundreds of pieces to graze her skin. The door slammed after her; her bed groaned under her weight as she collapsed upon it.

Why do girls have to be gorgeous, sex-driven models to get someone to notice them? I mean, I'm smart and useful and witty and...oh God... she trailed off, noticing the blood on her arms from the broken shards. No...I don't need any more help looking absolutely hideous.

..The next day..

"Hey, Harry, have you realized Herm hasn't been herself lately?" Ron asked nervously.

"Yeah, I wonder what's up..." Harry replied.

Hermione sulked into class; her head bent low, her arms covered by her robes. As she took her seat, she gave a weak good morning smile towards Harry. But she couldn't bring herself to even look at Ron.

He doesn't need to see this horrid beast of a girl, she thought.

Ron sat, disappointed. Is she mad at me? Does she know? Did anyone tell her?

The rest of class Hermione spent with her face buried behind a book. Hermione's eyelids were heavy...it was quite warm in the classroom... She quivered from his touch as she ran her hands through his flaming red hair, their lips meeting in the darkness.

............

"Oh, Ron!" she moaned.

He caressed his hands along her smooth curves, making a chill go down her spine. She wrapped her arms around him, drawing him closer to her.

"Don't ever leave me!"

"I could never." He kissed her softly, "You know I love you more than anything..."

She trailed a hand down his chest with a smile, giving him a quick kiss. "I love you, too." He grazed her neck tenderly, her heart raced faster.

The lights flickered on, revealing a room with mirrored walls. He gasped and backed away from her.

"What...what's wrong? Where are you going?" she asked, panicking. He didn't utter another word to her, but broke out in a run, getting as far away from her as possible. "Oh God!" she cried as she turned around, staring at herself in the mirrors. Her hair was graying and brittle, her complexion scarred. Her eyes were bloodshot, her arms bleeding...

........



"NO!" she howled.

"Something wrong, Ms. Granger?" Professor Flitwick asked, in shock, furrowing his brow.

"Oh...er...n-nothing professor," she tried to avoid the thirty pairs of eyes staring at her. "I...I don't know what came over me..."

"Alright, may I continue?" he questioned.

"Yes, of course, sorry, professor," Hermione muttered softly.

"You've got to be shitting me," she whispered to no one. Hermione rolled up one of her sleeves, feeling a warm, familiar substance drip down. The wounds had reopened; the pain was nearly unbearable. A small droplet traced down her cheek, and she brushed it away with the back of her hand. She looked down, realizing it wasn't a tear, but a speck of blood. Not more! Then bell rang, completing the last class of the day.

She sped out of the classroom, dashing towards the nearest washroom. She clocked herself, attempting to hide her body, her blood dotting the floor, leaving a gruesome trail. She held her head low, crimson tears streaming down her face, but she was nearly there. Hermione spotted the door, At last, relief, she thought as she sharply turned the corner and-

BAM!-she was knocked to the ground, her face and arms exposed.

"Oh look, it's the mudblood," a familiar voice mocked; her ears ringing with hate. Draco looked down at her...quite literally, in fact. "Hey Crabbe, get a peek at the true mudblood! Is little smart-ass gonna cry? Aw, is the widdle know-it-all gonna run to her fellow Gryffin-whores? What a sad, pathetic excuse for a wit-"

"FUCK OFF!" Hermione flared, sending the blonde into a wall.

She stomped over to him, forgetting her pain. A crowd had gathered around the fight scene. Ron had witnessed the whole event; he had wanted to talk to her, he just wanted to hold her. But now he had a bird's eye view, next to Draco. She seethed at him, pointing her wand to his throat. Someone in the swarm egged her on. It was like being hit with ice water, the pain rushed back into her veins; she could barely breathe. Her eyes shot up...directly at Ron. He seemed shocked, appalled. At her. Her heart sunk lower, her face a deadly pale.

Hermione turned away, nonchalant, facing the crowd. Faking a smile, she simply walked away. Which was anything but simple. She strode, pretending the blood stains weren't seeping through her clothes. She marched on, pretending the pain wasn't pulsating through her body. She walked, pretending Ron wasn't ashamed of her. The scene had blocked her path to the washroom. She felt faint, the room spinning hazily. The crowd thinned, but Ron remained, frozen Why had she glared at him like that?

"Wow, that was wild," remarked Harry. "She looked pretty pissed."

"Yeah," Ron added, absentmindedly.

"You still gonna ask her out for that thing on Saturday?"

Ron sighed, his ears turning pink. "No...I mean, I guess not. And even if she did say yes, it would be out of pity. Besides...she's got more important things to do. I've got...well...nothing."

"Come off it, Ron. You're a great chap," Harry reassured.

Ron could only utter a mumble, "Whatever."

A/N: Much more controversy to come. Any questions, comments, critiques, reviews are openly welcomed and accepted!