Chapter One
She was back.
Hermione was standing at the precipice again. She had no recollections of herself getting up here – she did not even remember leaving the castle. She wondered why she had become so inattentive, and the answer struck her like lightning. Hermione's hand flew up to her abdomen and with tears welled up in her eyes, she looked down at her body accusingly.
As the girl stood perilously close to the edge, she could feel the sea breeze. It was like a ghostly touch, caressing her delicate skin and whirling gently around her hair. At the same time, the breeze sounded like an ethereal voice, singing into her ears its own special song, which perhaps carried countless memories and secrets of people who had been at the precipice to relieve their stress and sorrow. Like Hermione.
The precipice was considered a special place for Hermione even though it held several unpleasant memories. Laughing bitterly to herself, Hermione recalled how she had met him. He had been at the precipice that very day, perhaps hoping to forget his troubles. Hermione had made her way up there too, and had been surprised to see him. It was love at first sight, or maybe that was just what she thought it had been.
He had made her feel so beautiful that Hermione was in love with herself, too. It was him who had made her cherish life, and even though she always found the sentence rather ridiculous, she could not help but tell her friends, "He is my everything."
Hermione closed her eyes and a tear escaped from behind one of her eyelids. It was halfway down her cheek when the wind claimed it, leaving behind a sticky trail on her skin. She was starting to miss her parents, too – if they were at Hogwarts maybe they could have advised her on what to do.
Hermione's hand now clenched into a tight fist and she pummeled her abdomen, her face crunched up with anger and abhorrence. But after a moment, she stopped in her actions.
She was going to abort her baby.
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The first person she planned to go to for help was Professor Snape. He was surely going to tell on her, and maybe persuade Professor Dumbledore to expel her, but Hermione did not care – she wanted to get rid of that extra life in her.
Snape stared at Hermione in revulsion as he listened to her.
Shameless little whore, he thought. Hermione had finished talking, and she was looking at him with tears in her eyes.
"Is Blaise Zabini the father?" he said quietly, twirling his wand with his fingers in front of his chest."It's not him!" Hermione cried. She wasn't going to betray him.
"You know he doesn't love you anyway."
It was clear.
Hermione could not hide from reality anymore. Snape was a skilled Legilimens after all …
On an impulse, Hermione dropped to her knees at Snape's feet. "Please don't tell on Blaise, Professor!" She clawed at Snape's cloak helplessly as he got up and looked down at her with utmost disgust on his face. "Don't touch me, you Mudblood."
With that, he swept off towards the storeroom. Hermione ran to him and grabbed his hand. "Professor … please, please help me … I cannot keep this baby!"
Snape wheeled around and glared at her. "I don't kill innocent lives."
"Just tell me what to do, Professor!"
Snape continued to glower at her. She stared back at him with a pleading look on her face. At last, he said softly, "I'll give you the ingredients, and then you get lost from here."
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Hermione looked at the potion she had made. It was a venomous green color, and was bubbling slightly. Taking a deep breath, she put the glass to her lips, and a foul odor filled her nostrils.
"Are you going to kill yourself?" came a high voice.
The glass slipped through Hermione's fingers and fell to the floor, breaking into several pieces. Hermione gaped at it in horror, then looked up at the owner of the voice. Moaning Myrtle was sitting on the toilet, her chin resting on her palms. "You can join me after you've died," the ghost said brightly.
"Leave me alone," Hermione snapped. She scooped some more of the green liquid into a new glass and was going to drink it when Moaning Myrtle added in a serious tone, "That potion isn't strong enough to kill your baby."
When Hermione ignored her and started to drink the potion, the ghost continued, "You'll just end up with stomachache for a couple of hours, and your baby will still be alive!"
Hermione stopped drinking and looked at the glass in her hand. Was Myrtle telling the truth?
Just then, the toilet door flew open and Ron Weasley ran towards Hermione. Without warning, he knocked the glass out of her hand. "What the fuck do you think you're doing, Hermione?" he demanded, pulling her out of the toilet.
"Let go of me, Ron," Hermione yelled. "It's none of your business what I am doing!"
"How could you think of killing a life?"
"I cannot keep this baby, Ron."
"Why not?"
"You won't understand."
"If you don't tell me why how could you expect me to understand?"
"This doesn't concern you, Ron!"
Hermione wrenched herself out of Ron's grip and re-entered the toilet. But Ron dragged her out again and pulled her into a tight hug. Hermione tried to break free, but Ron was too strong. "Your business is mine, Hermione," Ron whispered into her ear. "I will bring the baby back to The Burrow."
Hermione was touched by his words. Tears began to well up her eyes again, and she cried silently into his shoulder. But the thought of Mrs. Weasley made her stop crying. "But what about Mrs. Weasley; what will she say?" she asked.
"I'll – you don't worry about her."
Hermione gave a tiny smile. Maybe Ron was the one.
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Note: The beginning of the story until "She was going to abort her baby" was written for a writing competition which I am going to take part in. (Of course, I changed all the names and stuff.) Gosh, was this very cheesy? Please review! (Constructive comments highly appreciated.)