Author's Note:

This is my 3rd fan fiction on the website. Although it does share the name of a song by Avril Lavigne, it is not a songfic. I was listening to that song when I was trying to think of ideas for my next fanfiction. I liked how it sounded, so I used the name for this story.

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Fall to Pieces

Hermione was still, sitting quietly in her seat in History of Magic class. Harry sat to her right, with his hand in hers. Hermione's expression was solemn and tired. Maybe that was due to the cigarettes. Maybe it was because of her newly found bulimia. It may have even been because of the stress caused by the N.E.W.Ts. But what ever it was, Harry was blind to it. He never would have guessed that Hermione vomitted everything she ate. He didn't know that she spent every night and early morning outside by the lake, smoking. He held her hand, unaware of what was really going on inside her head. With her right hand taken, she picked up her quill with her left hand and sketched, with midnight black ink, little people, with dark eyes, and shadows dancing across their faces.

"Hermione!" Harry said, nudging her a little bit.

Hermione looked up to see her classmates filing out of the big, dusty room. Professor Binns was floating around near the chalkboard, waiting for Hermione and Harry to exit so he could prepare for the next class. She grabbed her parchment, covered with gothic creatures, her quill, and her textbooks, and stood up. Harry grabbed her arm, and they made a dash for Charms.

Tears flowed down her flawless cheeks as she looked in her bag. It was full of things that ruined her life. A baggie of cocaine lay carefully on top of a needle, and a couple packs of cigarettes were jammed together next to a pair of scissors. There were birth control pills and chocolate laxatives. Hermione was constantly filled with anger anymore. She was sorry she had let her life get so out of hand. Sorry she had let herself get screwed over by so many people. Sorry she had let her emotions take over. She wanted to be the strong, intelligent Hermione she once was, but knew she was to far gone for that. She wanted death, sweet death, so she would never have to feel hate, exhaustion, or pain again.

"Oh my God." she sobbed.

She sat up for a moment and felt that sickening feeling that she often felt these days. She was going to vomit up what very little she had eaten for dinner. She stood up and quickly, yet smoothly walked down to the Girl's Bathroom. No one was there, and she was glad. No one could know what she did to herself. No one. She ran to a stall, kneeled over, and threw up. Hurling between sobs, she sat there until her throat hurt and there was nothing left to throw up. She stood up, headed towards the door and just as she was about to exit, Moaning Myrtle's head began floating in the sink.

"You know," she said "Someone's going to find out about you eventually."

"Whatever." Hermione replied.

She left the bathroom, and headed for the staircase. Then she realized something.

"Oh shit!" She whispered.

In a panic, she took off running towards her house common room. She would have kicked open the portrait, if it hadn't let her in. Maybe she didn't want to be let in. But she said the password and headed for the Girls Dorms. She found exactly what she feared she would. Ginny was sitting on her bed, holding the bag. When Hermione entered the room, she stood up.

"Hermione Granger, you have a problem!" She said.

"What are you talking about? Or do you even know?" Hermione snapped.

Ginny's face softened.

"Why don't you tell someone? Why are you doing this?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"I would."

"You wouldn't!" Hermione cried.

Her knees buckled, and she kneeled on the floor, crying.

"I have to be perfect for Harry! He won't love me if I have big wrists, or if I'm not happy and beautiful… No one will!" She whimpered.

"Oh, bloody hell, Hermione, who gave you that idea? Harry will love you no matter what."

"No… no. No, no… no."