Hullo! This is my new version on Hermione's secret! I'm sorry to jessirose85 who requested this. I lost your PM so I don't quite remember all the rules, so I'll try my best
She didn't look the same. She was no longer the poised, knowledgeable girl she once was. She no longer helps that fire in which drew people to love her. Her brown eyes no longer held warmth, or comfort, nor sympathy for anything. All in all, Hermione Granger looked dead.
She tugged loosely at her sweater which more likely than not, swallowed her whole. Starring at herself in the mirror of the Hogwarts bathroom swaying slightly on the balls of her feet. She knew the difference was noticeable; all of Hogwarts stared after her as if at any moment her knees would give out and she would be completely comatose.
She could tell why they would be worried. Her cheeks were hollow, giving her cheekbones and eerie shadow affect. She had grown her hair out during the summer, but failed to even give hygiene a second thought. This caused the roots and tips of her hair to dry and spit.
The volume of the bushiness was immense; most would say if she bent her head down it would engulf her entire face. Her eyes were permanently glazed over as if always in thought, making her caramel eyes look a murky brown.
Hermione parted her lips into a shaky sigh.
You are not special, you are not unique, and you are just like everybody else. A voice cooed in her head.
Hermione let out a sob and snapped her hands to her ears.
"Shut up," She whimpered quietly "Shut up, shut up, shut up!"
You are not a beautiful butterfly, nor a elegant flower. You, Hermione, are nothing. The voice said again.
Biting her lip, she fell to the floor with a sob.
"I'm not! I-I'm something! I mean something!" She screamed, sobs racking her body like wind would shake a dull leaf.
You're a waste, that's what you are. The voice snapped angrily A dirty, good for nothing waste!
Hermione shook her head violently, willing the voice out. Pushing away the constant memories. She grabbed onto the sink, using it as a leverage to pull herself up. Yet, fate was never on her side as she lost her footing and tumbled to the floor once again, her head hitting the stones with a defining crack.
A cry was let out from bruised lips as pain swept over her body like a boulder. She gasped for breath as purple spots started to appear in her vision.
"Please!" She cried helplessly through bated breath.
Just let go, Hermione. No one wants you here. We don't need you. Just let go.
And that's what she did. She closed her eyes as tight as she could, until the light in the back of her eyelids shown too bright and made her groan. Finally, the pain was gone. Everything was over. And Hermione found herself wishing that she would never wake. That everything would finally be over. That the memories of her past year would be a distant object.
Draco Malfoy strolled down the halls of Hogwarts as if he owned the place. Twirling his broom around in his hand he passed a huddled group of Hufflepuff 2nd years who were starring intently at him. He grinned to himself and turned to give them a wink. They might as well have swooned from the look they gave him. Huddling up once more they talked in excited whispers, which only inflated Draco's ego by a mile more.
The war had certainly done something to him. Preferably made him more handsome or dare I say charming? During the fight, he had been blindsided by a death eater and left with a nasty scar that drew a line from his temple down his jaw, to the start of his chin. When he was sure the scar would never heal fully, he burrowed himself into
It was only 6 o'clock in the afternoon, curfew wasn't for hours, but many students were already rounded in their housing dorms to gussy up for that nights dinner. Draco didn't particularly know what the big deal was with tonight's dinner. After all, it was only 3 days into the school year. Other than getting a new teacher, no events should have been prepared. Even if there was, Draco would have known for he was the new head boy for his 7th year.
He turned as sharp left, deciding on going to the pitch for a middle of the day fly. He never liked the hallway in which the girls washroom was located. It was dark and dank. The walls moist from the constant steam emanating from the showers. No girl in their right mind would want to do use the loo in this kind of environment, so most retreated to the one three floors up.
Passing the door, her heard a sudden and significant thud. Turning on his heels he strained to listen; someone was crying. And not the self-pity crying, but more like a cry of pain. Heart beating rapidly, he stepped closer, the heels on his leather shoes clicked against the marble floor with each hesitant step. Leaning against the door he pressed the tip of is ear against the small crack in the stone door. A small please! was gasped and the crying had more or less stopped, replaced by short, rapid, and painful pants.
Pushing open the door, Draco stepped into the arch, glancing around for the creator of the noise. When there was no one is sight, he stepped cautiously into the room. The room was freezing, causing Draco to pull the sleeves of his robes to his finger tips to calm the bitterness. His shoes clicked, a distant tapping sound as he made his way around the stalls, to the sinks. Before he arrived, he stepped in something murky, glancing down at his shoes, he saw the bottoms covered with a think liquid substance. Scowling, he picked lifted his foot off to swipe a sample from the sole.
When Draco held his finger to the light, it glimmered, showing a dark crimson color. Nausea built in his stomach. Gasping he watched as the trail of blood slid from his finger to the tip of his robe. His eyes flowed the trail until the stain had been created. Swallowing harshly, he turned back to the puddle, which had been making its way gradually to the dip in the floor where the drains were. He watched as it dripped down, making a sullen splash.
The sound took him out of his realm and brought him back to why he had come into the washroom anyway; someone was hurt. And from the blood, they must be bleeding accessivly. Quickly making his way to what must be the cause of blood, he stopped in his tracks, nausea taking over once more. There lay Hermione Granger. Mudblood know-it-all extraordinaire. Draco licked the bottom lip and furrowed his brows.
Come on Draco, she's hurt! Come on, Dray, save her. The rational side of him said, oddly sounding like his best mate Blaise.
He nodded, taking a determined step forward.
Stop it, Draco. She's just a Mudblood. We spent years working towards her demise. Leave her. No one will know, you can just say you were out on the pitch. A voice whispered inside him.
A feeling in the pit of him stomach surfaced as he recognized his father's voice.
"You're right, she's just a mudblood. A worthless, stupid, mudlblood." Draco whispered quietly, hoping that his conscience wouldn't come into play.
Fate was not kind.
How could you even THINK that? Blaise's voice snapped If you just leave her there, you're a murderer for Merlin's sake! Dray, she's been nothing but civil since we came back. You owe her, I'm pretty sure Weasley would have throttled you by now if it weren't for her kindness. Come on Dray, you're better than this.
Draco took a deep breath and let it out. He had to save her, Blaise was right. He was no murderer. He was above his parent's ways.
Moving forward, he gently bent on one knee and picked her head up delicately. Her lips looked thin and blue. He hair plastered to her head from the amount of blood that was now running down Draco's arm. Her eyes, which as of late looked dull, now looked hollow. Even with her eyelids shut, he could tell her iris would be small and her pupils dilated. Picking her up bridal style, he marveled at her weight. She must have weighed just more than his broom. Maybe even less.
Being sure to apply pressure to the wounds, hoping to stop the bleeding, he rushed through the halls. Ignoring horrified gasps from fellow peers, he made it to the hospital wing in minutes.
Madam Pomfrey was reading quietly in one of the vacant chairs when Draco rushed in, Hermione cradled in his arms. She gasped when she saw the blood oozing from the open wound.
"Put her on the bed, quickly, elevate her head. . . yes, just like that. . . I'll need you to draw the curtains; I must change her into a nightdress."
Draco did as he was told and stepped aside, letting the matron do her work. Meanwhile, he looked thoughtfully down at his robes. From the neckline down he was drenched in Granger's blood. Although he found himself not paying much attention that the girl had most likely soiled his best pair. He was preoccupied with the thought of the blood that he had swiped off his shoe. It wasn't dirty like he thought it would be. Nor was it murky. It looked exactly like. . .his. And Blaise's, and Pansy's. Even his own parents had the same colored blood.
He came to the conclusion that, Granger wasn't dirty blooded at all. Did that mean that all muggleborns didn't have tainted blood? Or was it just Granger?
Suddenly, he heard a scream coming from inside the curtains. Draco's head snapped in their direction and he made a beeline for the matron. Pulling the curtain back, a vile taste formed in his mouth and he ran to the nearest basin to throw up his breakfast and lunch. Behind the curtain Granger was stripped down, but if you were to look the nudeness wouldn't catch your attention. It was the millions of watermelon sized bruises that covered her torso. But, that wasn't the worst of the wounds.
Just above her womb, in carefully spaced out letters were the word Perfect.
Because the wound was so precise and raw, you could tell whomever had done it obviously had done in slowly and with brutality.
Draco didn't know what was worse; the fact that someone had done that to a human being, or that he felt the need to rip the entrails from whomever done it.
Soo, did you like it? Better than the other one? I think I'm super happy with how this turned out! I hope to get at least 10 REVIEWS! or the next chapter may be "delayed" ;) Kay, now question time!
Who do you think did this to Hermione? (Bare in mind, this is completely different than my regular story. So, it ma not be Mr. Weasley.)
What will Harry and Ron think of this? (Want to help or blow her off?)
And
Tell me one time you ever felt the need to be perfect.