A/N: Hey guys! So here's one of the stories I've been working on lately. I decided on uploading it now since I want to know if you like it and if I should focus on this more than my other stories. Open Relationship is on hold and I'm not sure if I'm going to finish it. I hope you enjoy this one.. My Hermione here is OOC but with reason, as well as my Draco. Set in 7th year. AU. The second war is over, Dumbledore is alive. As for other characters (esp. Snape), I'm not sure yet. We'll see.. Oh, and sorry about the grammar and spelling errors you may encounter. I'm looking for someone to beta my stories. So, if you're interested, pm me!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

I have friends and they love me, that's what she said to herself. But if she had friends, why was she alone? Sure, people don't have to always be with their friends. But when you're going through something, your friends are always there.

It seems that that doesn't apply to her. She was alone, and she was bleeding. Her back laid stiff against the floor of the Prefect's bathroom. She turned her head towards her left arm, where the bleeding came from. There was a cut as long as the width of her forearm, still fresh with blood still flowing out of it. She lifted her right arm where she held a small knife and cried.

Pain, fear and loneliness. She shook involuntarily as her sobs fought against her resistance. Her depression was getting worse and worse. Make it all go away, she thought as she positioned her right hand above her left forearm. With one quick motion, she cut herself again and a new batch of blood flowed out from her. At that moment, she was numb. Better this way than to feel such awful emotions.

Letting go of the knife, she propped herself up and dragged herself to the set of sinks paralleled by mirrors. Her hair was a mess, eyes red and face splotchy and pasty at the same time. She shivered at her appearance. It's at these times when she thinks she deserves the pain. She placed her left arm under the tap. She ran her right hand across, staining it with her blood before turning on the tap. Her eyes were focused on the way her blood cleared up quickly and the cuts became visible. Oh, how she wished it was that easy. To just wash it all away. But life wouldn't be life if these horrid emotions could be easily washed away. And that's when she started to hate life.

She pried her eyes away from the sink to look for her bag. She found it near a small puddle of her blood. After turning the tap off, she walked slowly towards her bag and retrieved her wand. Muttering a spell, she closed up her cuts and placed a concealing charm over them. Afterwards, she cast 'Scourgify' on the white marble floor to clear it of the blood. She went back to the sink, washed her face and fixed herself. As soon as she was satisfied that she looked normal enough, she headed for her house's common room. She would find her friends there, lounging by the fireplace with their stomachs full of the dinner she missed. If only she didn't promise to meet with them tonight, she would be in the head's dormitory where she didn't have to pretend.

…

He was currently on the fifth floor, on patrol. How bothersome! He could be in his room wallowing in the pleasant solitariness of his dormitories. Despite having to share it with the Head Girl, he was pleased of their arrangements. They would rarely cross paths and would only meet for meetings and such. Being Head Boy was great, it's just these menial tasks that makes it such a bore.

Muttering to himself about what Head Boy duties should be composed of, he didn't notice that he was walking straight to the statue of Boris the Bewildered. He abruptly stopped when he looked up a little and one more step would have caused impact. "Bloody statue!" He sneered at the statue and made to walk down the rest of the corridor to get the bloody patrol over with.

As soon as he walked past the door to the Prefect's bathroom, he halted his steps. Curious, he thought. Their seemed to be an invisible force attracting him to the door. A sudden sense of mystery came over him as he pushed through the door. The candle-filled chandelier suddenly lit up giving the bathroom a soft mellow glow to it. As he scanned the room, he caught a glimpse of something that caught more of the light's reflection than the floor. In a few strides, he was before the object. Kneeling down, his eyes widened when he saw what the object was. Using his handkerchief, he lifted off of the floor a small silver knife with traces of dry blood.

Panic started to overcome him as his eyes darted about the room, wand at hand.

"Lumos maxima." After a blinding flash of light, his eyes adjusted to the now well-lit room. He looked over the tub, to the cubicles then to the sinks. He walked over to them and saw a few specks of dried blood at the edge of one of the sinks. He turned around swiftly, wand out in defense.

"Whoever you are, come out! I am Head Boy and I demand you show yourself to me! I suggest you do so before a greater form of punishment befalls your fate!" His voice got louder after every sentence. If there were students walking out at the corridor, no doubt he would be heard. But no answer came. "I'm warning you! Come out now!" He bellowed but still no response. "Fine! If I find you, I am going to make damn sure that you don't just get suspended!"

Casting off his lumos and letting the chandlers do their job, he pointed his wand at himself and muttered a 'protego' and cautiously stalked about the bathroom. After covering the whole room, there was no sign of a living form hiding. He gave out a sigh of relief and tucked his wand inside his robes.

Upon seeing the knife, his head was suddenly filled with suspicions of murder or assault and the victim was either dying or dead in the bathroom. He knew he was exaggerating because nobody could really die with a knife in Hogwarts. A wand was deadlier than a knife. But still, he couldn't shake off the feeling that something bad happened in the prefect's bathroom. After one last look around the room, he carefully wrapped the knife with his handkerchief and hid it in his pocket. With a sudden thought, he cast a 'Scourgify' on the 'bloodied' sink before leaving the room and finishing up his rounds.

As soon as he reached the heads dormitories, he washed up and laid down on his bed. Before he drifted off to sleep, he made sure of one thing: To find out who owned the knife and why it had blood on it.

Thanks for reading.

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