This is my new story. It is a Very dramatic Angsty story, which will come into play more in later chapters. right now this is just shitty buildup. Enjoy!

My Mind is My Own, Why Must You Steal it?!?!??!

Chapter 1: we will explain the motive but not the story.

As the knife hit the ground a scene flashed through this broken woman's mind, then another, then another. These memories strung together, wound around one another, finally merging into the past. As her body grew cold she remembered. As her life waned she saw his face. As the blood pooled around her wrists, following the downhill slope of the bathroom before coming to her slender torso and then her head until it finally reached the drain, she knew exactly what had brought her to this point. She gritted her teeth from the pain, not only from her wrists but also from…him.

Hermione an attractively skinny woman of 17, sat alone. Her bushy brown hair flowed down past her shoulder blades and a few strands in front threatened to get in her eyes. She liked the solitude, being eye catching in any mood, of the library with only the dusty volumes of time forgotten to keep her company. She riffled through "Psychology: Muggle Muck or Magical Mystery?" searching for an explanation to her depression. She felt that she was close to an answer when Harry walked up.

He sat beside her in the Crimson armchair, his body sinking deep into the voluptuous folds of stuffing. She loved that body that hard, toned…NOOO! She wouldn't allow herself to think like that. Harry was a friend; she knew this and intended to keep it that way.

"Hullo," whispered Harry with just a hint of unbelievable sadness in his voice.

"Wow you sound horrible," Hermione whispered back, "rough day?"

"You wouldn't believe how horrible it has been!" He said a little louder then he meant to, causing madam Pince to eye them with distaste and Hermione to shush him. "This homework load has just gotten unbelievable!"

Hermione's eyebrows elevated the half inch that stated, 'you wanna talk about work' and Harry smiled apologetically.

Hermione lowered her head once more and resumed her reading. She drifted in and out of the conversation with Harry, sometimes listening intently and others only nodding occasionally. As she neared the 400th page of the book, it became apparent that Harry was no longer talking. She slowly looked up and caught his eye

"Um, Harry why are you looking at me like that?" Hermione asked. She began to fidget uncontrollably as Harry's fierce green eyes bored into hers. "Seriously Harry, knock it off. Please Harry you're making me uncomfortable!"

Harry smiled at her, "Sorry Hermione I was just watching you read,"

She laughed nervously, "Beg your pardon?!?"

Harry looked down and mumbled, "Nothing, never mind."

Hermione's laugh pealed through the library and madam Pince chose that moment to swoop down on the pair of them and force them from the library. For two seventeen year old wizards, being hurled from a library by a woman no taller than five feet was quite an embarrassing experience.

Hermione gestured to Harry in the direction of the dormitories and Harry, laughing quite uncontrollably, nodded so they started walking. Their conversation during the walk back never deviated from conventional subject material. Hermione had learned long ago that to talk of anything serious in Harry's presence was an immediate opportunity for him to practice babbling like a cretin. She laughed at Harry's anecdote as they reached the fat lady's portrait

"Hoodwink." Hermione said in response to the fat lady's usual query. The portrait swung open to reveal the common room. Hermione gracefully climbed through with Harry clambering inside in her wake.

Ron was sitting in the largest chair next to the fire. His face bore the unmistakable signs of sorrow and pity. He looked up as his two friends entered and he turned pale. "Hermione, you've got post from your mum." Ron grimaced as he handed her the envelope clutching it as though it were about to explode.

"What in the world could this be about? And why did the post arrive special delivery?"

Ron shook his head and pointed to the letter.

It read:

Hermione my dear daughter,

I know you must be swamped now, it being
your last year at Hogwarts and all.
However, I know that this is something you
need to know. You will have to forgive me
sweet heart, this is a little to hard to write
least of all to you. Your father… was hospitalized
several days ago, for a major heart attack.
Today at just about noon, he fell asleep and
didn't wake up. I will understand if you don't want
to leave school to come to his funeral, but
I thought I should give you the opportunity.
I'm so sorry you had to find out this way Hermione.
This has hurt us all, but I can't begin to imagine
how this must affect you. I hope to see you soon

Mum.

The letter fluttered to the ground as it fell from Hermione's limp hand. Harry had been reading over her shoulder, and now he put his arm around her pulling her into a hug. Ron stood back from the two of them trying to gauge her reaction.

When they came, Hermione's tears were small and soft. They fell upon Harry's shoulder with a soft plik noise and soaked into his robes. Hermione shuddered against him as her grief spilled from her body.

Harry for his part held her as gently and chastely as he could. He whispered "It's alright," over and over in her ear, and Ron rubbed Hermione's arm in a tender way. He looked to Harry for guidance as to what to do, but when none came he simply continued to rub her arm

Hermione cried for several hours, during which neither Harry nor Ron left her side. When her tears finally stopped, Hermione looked up at the two of them. Her eyes had a dead, hollow look in them as she said, "Thank you you two. I'm kinda tired. I think I'm going to bed." She rose from her chair, and departed up the girls dormitory starecase. Harry and Ron looked at each other. They were both sorry for Hermione, but could do nothing to help her.