She stood up slowly, unsure of how to move on. She knew she was supposed to be strong in some form. Independence was a good word for it. But now, she felt as if that and her dignity were ripped from her. Hermione silently wished for death as she stood there alone.
She was through with crying. That part was over with. Now, it was about living again. She looked around the empty potions room. It was dark and cold. It wasn't fair. None of this was fair.
She reached down slowly, and pulled her robes on. Suddenly, as if it was by electric shock, she dropped them. She began breathing hard. She felt dirty. Disgusting. She couldn't bare to be touching anything. It didn't help anything. It almost made it worse.
She began then to claw at her skin. Her breathing was coming unevenly, yet very quickly. She pulled her hair. She wanted to step out of this body. This body didn't even feel like hers. This was his now. It was infected with him. She felt him all over. She just wanted out. She continued to scrape and scratch until she finally out her desperation screamed and collapsed to the ground.
She cried until everything finally went black.
Everything was blurry when her eyes came out of the darkness. She was still alone. Of course, why would anyone come looking for her? Especially now when she wasn't even her anymore.
She found her robes again, but this time she didn't break down when she wrapped them around her. Hermione had shut herself off.
She glanced down at her hands. Her fingernails had the slightest tint of red under them. She unconsciously reached up to her left shoulder where she had succeeded in tearing out of this body that she once knew.
She felt like something was missing. Besides the obvious feeling between her legs. She looked around the floor around her, searching for her wand. Her heart told her that she would find it. That it was around her somewhere. Her mind told her Draco had taken it with him as he swept arrogantly out of the room. She listened to her pessimistic mind. Her heart was optimistic, and that wasn't what she needed right now. She didn't know if she'd ever need the bright side to life again. What bright side? Her mind spoke hopelessly. She let this knowledge sink in as she took baby steps to leave this room.
The lights had been turned off in the halls. It must be late. But it couldn't have been too late. When she was going through that hell, she tried to focus on something else. She focused on the sunset outside of the window.
Either way, Hermione walked slowly to the Gryffindor girl's dormitory. Any bigger steps, and she may rip open. She was sure she would just fall apart. Her seams had ripped.
She reached the staircase when two familiar voices distantly drifted up behind her. She knew she should've been relieved to hear Harry and Ron's voices, as she had hoped she would earlier, but now, she wanted nothing more than to make sure they wouldn't see this shell of who she was.