Say No More
"Hermione, calm down...calm down," Harry cooed, cradling her in his arms. He could feel her warmth wash over him, her tears drenching his robes, but he closed his eyes, his chin on top of her head, caressing her back, his fingernails sinking into the fabric of her clothes. The warm, familiar tingling settled inside him as she moved her face back and forth across his chest, creating smears that were visible. Her tears were almost black in his vision -- everything else was white, she was just like a rose, and her stem was broken at the tip, and her petals unfurled in a wounded injury.
"How - how am I going to do this?" she croaked, her hair falling over her face like brown frizz. "How am I going to do this?" Hermione repeated, her brown eyes wide and woeful, black circles underneath them from the sheer lack of sleep.
"There has to be a way out of this," Harry promised her, even though doubt was welling inside of him. "There just has to be."
"Why? Why does there have to be a way out of this?" Her head jerked upwards, her lips trembling at the puzzled look on his face. "There's no way out of this. Even if Malfoy's out of this school - it doesn't mean he's not out of our lives, Harry. I want to kill that son of a bitch!" she seethed angrily, tears staining her now flushed cheeks.
"Calm down," he told her in the best soothing voice he could manage, his hand crawling to the nape of her neck, brushing against her soft, creamy skin.
"No - I can't - I can't - I'll...just...I'll just, kill myself," she said in a dead-prone voice.
"You're not going to kill yourself," he told her in a definite tone. "I won't let you. We'll find a way out of this."
"Is it okay to come in?" Ron's head peeked into the doorway, the door only half-opened. He looked frightened at the prospect of coming in, but a look of concern quickly poured over his face as he observed the state Hermione was in.
"Not now, Ron!" Hermione snapped. "Harry and I were talking."
Ron's face stiffened as he backed away, the door closing shut.
"What was that?" Harry asked angrily, rising from the bed, recoiling from touching her.
"What was what? I don't want him here!" Hermione complained.
"You're being inconsiderate."
"You're one to talk!" she exclaimed, her shoulders shaking in fury. "Why don't you just leave - and - and console him, then! It's all about him, again, isn't it?"
"It's not all about you either, Hermione," Harry responded curtly. "It's not like you're the only one that's hurting."
"Oh, I am sorry." Hermione's voice dripped with sarcasm as she rose from the bed, glaring at him stonily. "I forgot - this is all about you two, isn't it? I am just the person who's actually going to have to go through this!"
"Hey ---" he started to say, but was cut off by Hermione's infuriated shriek.
"Get out of here, okay! I need to be alone."
"I am not going to leave you alone," he told her stubbornly. His chest ached with pain at the way she was reacting. At the same time he wanted to hold her and care for her, but he also wanted to shut her up.
"Why? I am not going to hurt myself."
"I don't believe that. If I leave you alone, anything could happen."
"Nothing's going to happen. Damn it, don't you trust me?" she asked in disgust.
Something in his numb mine was urging him to say 'no', but he was already too shaken to stay in this room with her. He couldn't stand to see her like this - she was like a different person now that Malfoy had affected her in the worst way possible. He hesitated, watching as she lowered herself to the bed, her head buried in her arms, her shoulders shaking in grief.
Don't do this - he wanted to yell. Don't cry in front of me. I hate when you do that. Stop it - stop it, he kept thinking, but she didn't stop. Her sobs echoed throughout the whole room, non-stopping, not decreasing. The tendrils of her hair fixated on her shoulder. Even when she was crying, she was beautiful. She's still the same Hermione, he persuaded himself. She's the same - she's just emotional. Leave her alone for now. You can't do much. You're not her boyfriend. Neither is Ron. Just be her friend right now.
Bitterness was dissolving in his saliva as his throat caught dry. "Fine," he whispered, even though he was sure she couldn't hear him. He walked, almost paralyzed, out of the room, locking the door swiftly behind him.
And with that, Hermione blindly reached for the wand in her dresser table.
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End of Prologue
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