Cool Steel Chapter 3- And So The Plot Thickens
Disclaimer: Once again I do not own any of the characters or main back story. That pleasure resides solely with JK Rowling... I only own the unfortunate plot bunnies that contribute to this.
Hermione reached the classroom door at 6:54, and raised her hand to knock.
"Enter," Snape's voice called immediately following her short rap on the door.
Hermione quickly walked through the door calling, "Sir," and nodding her head at him as she slid the door closed behind her.
"Aww so you do know how to be on time," he commented scathingly. When he found she had no reply Snape continued in a voice full of boredom. "Miss Granger I find myself extremely busy this evening with little time to babysit during a useless and tedious detention, so this onceand only onceI am going to offer you a choice." He paused for a moment to glare at her before biting out, "If you breathe a word of this to another student your detention will be extended by another month and I will make sure they are the most hideous detentions you have ever served. Is that understood?"
"Yes sir. Completely."
"Miss Granger you have before you two choices. First you may join Hagrid in the school greenhouses removing an infestation of Romanian mucous slugs, which are have currently reached the size of your arm, and must be removed manually due to their tendency to... shall we say explode when moved by magic," he paused for effect, before continuing menacingly. "Or you can stay here and brew strengthening solution for Madam Pomfrey to replenish her stores."
He allowed her a second to think before adding, "However, you will be required to clean all the cauldrons you use by hand, and she needs at least 5 cauldrons worth of solution. This is still detention after all."
Hermione took little time in debating over cleaning the thickly viscous potion out of cauldrons over exploding slugs, then quickly decided that she simply could not handle Hagrid's exuberant self tonight. She opened her mouth and answered Snape's questioning eyes with "I'll stay here sir."
He shrugged nonchalantly, pointed towards a setup on the far side of the room that she had failed to notice before now, and headed back to his desk without another word.
Hermione walked over to the table and found 5 cauldrons and burners accompanied by enough ingredients to complete the required amount of potion. Deciding that the best way to complete this project would be to prepare all the ingredients before hand and then start the cauldrons in a timed successive manner so that she could complete a single stage on the fifth cauldron just as the next stage would need to be started on the first.
With a plan in place, she set about her tasks quickly and diligently. Unconsciously she began to hum a rather low and despondent melody to herself. For a while Snape did not notice, but as she began to add ingredients to the first cauldron and the sounds of her chopping ceased Snape raised his head to glare at her. He quickly found the sound irritating and when she failed to respond to his glare he decided to put a stop to it.
"Miss Granger," he snapped seethingly, causing Hermione to startle. "While you may enjoy that forlorn sound coming from your throat I most certainly do not. Use that know-it-all brain of yours to realize I don't need your incessant noise to remind me of you presence."
"I'm sorry sir, I didn't realize-"
"Don't be sorry you stupid girl. Just stop!"
"Yes sir," Hermione whispered as she dropped her eyes back to her task. Does he need to be so damn hateful all the time, she thought sadly to herself.
Hermione spent the next two hours stirring, mixing, monitoring, and adjusting the potions until all 5 cauldrons were complete. "I'm done sir," called Hermione quietly.
"Well don't just stand there silly girl. The potions won't bottle themselves, nor will the cauldrons clean themselves. You'd best get to work if you are to be done by curfew," he barked without looking up.
Hermione used magic to siphon all of the potion into the flasks he had provided in neatly packed crates beside the table. Then conjured herself a bucket of soapy water, a sponge, and a long towel before setting about the arduous task of cleaning the thick residue left behind by the potion. After 45 minutes of sweating and straining all the cauldrons where clean and Hermione turned to her brewing tools to clean them as well. She meticulously cleaned everything saving her knife for last.
Just as she was picking it up to clean, Snape slid his chair back startling her. She jerked in response dragging the knife across her other palm and slicing it open. "Damn it," she hissed in pain as she realized how deep she'd cut.
"Language Miss Granger! 50 points from Gryffindor," snapped Snape as he turned to face her. As he took notice of the blood dripping from her hand he growled out, "You stupid chit what have you done now," and proceeded to stalk towards her.
"It-its n-nothing sir," Hermione stuttered as she stared at the freely bleeding cut on her hand.
"It's obviously not nothing Miss Granger, or you wouldn't be making such a mess of my class room."
"I swear I'll be fine"
"Give me your hand," demanded Snape with a fierce glare.
Hermione slowly extended her hand towards him. Snape frowned when he realized how deep the cut actually was, and began muttering a healing spell while frowning at her hand. As soon as the skin finished knitting itself back together, Snape took a quick step back from her only to give her another withering glare.
"Miss Granger I thought even a muggle-born such as yourself would know how to handle a knife. It's a simple enough task, but obviously that ridiculous know-it-all brain of yours does not lend itself to actual intelligence or basic common sense."
Hermione simply turned her eyes downward and bit the inside of her cheek instead of responding.
"What no textbook quote to support yourself," Snape mocked. "Just get out of my classroom before you bleed on anything else," he snapped with a sneer.
Hermione grabbed her bag and potions kit before sprinting out the door, forgetting her knife on the table.
Hermione sprinted down the halls as fast as she could, heading straight for the prefects bathroom. She smiled mirthlessly as she realized how often she was coming to this bathroom. If I keep this up I should just move in. Hell, it would be better than living with Lavender, she thought gloomily.
Upon reaching the room Hermione raised her usual wards, before turning on the taps for the bathtub. She choose plain scorching hot water, over the normal scented bubbles she typically preferred. As she slipped into the water thoughts of her parents, Ron and Lavender's words, and the carelessness of her actions in Snape's classroom came rushing back to her.
As the emotions overtook her, Hermione raised her wand and conjured a muggle box cutter blade. She had often found that this small, palm sized piece of steel was easy to handle and created a more intense feeling as it split open her skin. Out of nowhere however, Hermione was suddenly overtaken by a horrible sense of disgust and shame at her desperate need to harm herself. She flung the blade across the room and watched as it bounced along the floor as sobs overtook her small frame.
Hermione cried, sobbed, and screamed for what seemed like an eternity. When the tears continued to flow, and the sobs kept tearing themselves from her throat Hermione began to wonder which was more disgusting; her desire for the caress of cool steel or her weakness in controlling her emotions. Quickly deciding that these ridiculous sobs were more shameful Hermione pulled herself from the tub and walked quickly over to where the blade lay on the floor.
Grabbing the small, shiny tool she quickly drug it against the flesh of her upper thigh. The instant relief it brought allowed her to think a little clearer and she decided to return to the edge of the tub. Upon sitting down she found that this first cut was extremely shallow and the blood had already quit running. Taking her time Hermione started closer to her inner thigh and cut a slightly deeper 2 inch cut into her flesh. With this cut she thought about the pain and anger she felt at her friend's lack of caring and allowed the blood to wash the emotions away. With the next slightly deeper cut Hermione thought about her parents, and as her tears finally stopped flowing she allowed those emotions to bleed away as well.
Finally Hermione made a fourth and final cut, thinking about Snape's harsh words to her. Has it really only been a week since I started doing this? Snape is right. I am STUPID. Hermione thought to herself with almost no feeling at all. I can't do anything properly. I can't even clean a knife. I'm useless.
Hermione sat there on the edge of the tub trailing her index finger through the blood dripping down her thigh. She sat there with thoughts of her inadequacy and failings running through her mind as both her blood and bath both cooled. When the chill of the water finally made her shiver Hermione decided it was time to go, considering it was after midnight.
She quickly rose from the tub, cleaned her hip, and spelled a bandage in place over the cuts. Transfiguring her rumpled uniform to shorts and a tank top, she quickly put them on and threw her robe overtop. Checking that the coast was clear Hermione slipped from the room and headed towards Gryffindor tower.
And so the next week passed much the same as the previous. Hermione went to classes, did her homework, nagged the boys, and over all continued to play the part of know-it-all extraordinaire, with no one noticing anything amiss. She found herself seeking relief from the cool steel of her razor blade on Sunday, as well as Wednesday when the anxiety and depression became too much. Hermione however limited herself to much shallower cuts this week, deciding deep ones were too dangerous in the long run.
At her Thursday detention Snape again offered Hermione an option: either to brew an extreme amount of Headache Relief potion and hand clean the mess afterwards, or participate in some arduous task with Filch. However Snape did feel the need to add the scathing remark of, "As long as you can avoid bleeding all over the place that is," which left little doubt in her mind as to his opinion her last detention.
When Hermione cast her eyes to the ground, and gave an affirmative nod Snape simply pointed to the prepared workstation and turned towards his desks without another word. The detention continued with no noteworthy incidences until Hermione announced she was finished cleaning at 10:00. After a cursory glance at the completed stock of potions Snape dismissed her with a sharp wave towards the door.
The following afternoon found Hermione trailing after the boys towards the quidditch pitch for Gryffindor team tryouts. Hermione tried to focus on a book she'd brought along, but soon found herself distracted by Ron's abysmal performance. Loathe though she was to admit it Hermione still found herself attracted to Ron, though she was constantly ignored by him...
And any other boy for that matter, she thought derisively.
She realized she felt sorry for his obvious case of nerves, when pitted against the prick McLaggen. She watched with apprehension as Ron barely stopped the ball time after time, while Mclaggen's saves were smooth and flawless. When finally Hermione couldn't stand it anymore, she quietly directed a confundus charm towards McLaggen. In the back of her mind Hermione had hoped that Ron would realize what she had done for him. Nevertheless it was obvious that while Ron found it was odd the first time it happened, he thought McLaggen was simply screwing up when it happened a second time.
What did you expect girl? she snapped at herself. That he would suddenly fly over here and declare his love for you? Grow up already, you bloody idiot.
After tryouts were over and Harry had posted the results, Hermione rushed up to Ron to congratulate him, however she had barely started to say it before she was shoved out of the way by a group of giggling girls. Ron walked off flirting with them without a backwards glance towards her. When Harry walked by without even noticing her, Hermione about lost it. She turned and ran towards the edge of the forest, stumbling blinding onto a slightly overgrown path. She ran along this path for a while before collapsing against an ancient tree.
Breathing heavily Hermione pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and transfigured it into a small blade. This time she drug it quick and shallowly across her outer forearm, smiling at the now familiar sting. She then drug a second, and third similarly shallow lines beside the first. When she began breathing easier from the rush that followed, she sat on the ground debating whether she should heal the scratch or make another shorter scratch, so they would look like Crookshanks had clawed her. Deciding to make a fourth, she slid the blade along her arm before transfiguring it back into a handkerchief.
It wouldn't due to get caught with a bleeding arm and a bloody blade now would it? Hermione thought to herself. I can't keep doing this all the time. I'm bound to get caught at some point.
And so she sat there for over an hour contemplating her life and the rather addicting habit she had developed. Yet no matter how hard she tried Hermione could not think of another method that would relieve her stress and emotional pain the way cutting did.
But running here did help didn't it? I didn't have to cut as deep to calm down... maybe I could start running? I could definitely stand to lose the weight, lard arse that I am...
With that self-deprecating thought Hermione made her decision to start running this lonely, overgrown path everyday to lose the weight and hopefully increase her control.
The next morning Hermione rose before the sun. She dressed in a pair of leggings she rarely wore -because they're too tight on my fat arse- some loose athletic shorts and a hoodie. She transformed an old pair of Mary Janes into jogging shoes, before slipping out of her dorm and through the common room. The Fat Lady barely rustled in her portrait when Hermione gently pushed the door open, and slipped out without a sound. She made her way quickly through the corridors and chose to exit through a rarely used side door that came out near the rose gardens. Once outside she took a moment to breathe in the early morning air, before heading towards the overgrown path to begin her jog.
When she reached the edge of the path Hermione began a timer on her muggle watch that was set to go off 30 minutes into her run. She had already decided this would be the point where she turned around and headed back up the path. Hermione began her run just as the sky was slipping from dark purple to a lighter angry grey. She had started off fast but quickly realized she would never be able to maintain that speed, and thus slowed down to a more manageable pace. By the time her watch beeped it's 30 minute reminder Hermione was drenched in sweat, aching in pain and ready to quit.
No! I won't quit! I deserve to be in pain. I deserve to suffer! She thought harshly to herself. She pushed through the pain and at 45 minutes felt as though her legs were going to give out. With this new sensation she smiled to herself and began to run even faster. She hit the end of the path 4 minutes before the hour mark and collapsed on the ground gasping for air. She lay on the damp grass staring at the quickly lightening sky and gasping from the burning stitch in her side.
And as she drug her aching body from the ground, and headed back towards the castle Hermione couldn't help but smile at the burning pain engulfing her entire body.
AN: I typically wouldn't ask this, but I would kill for some reviews. Good or bad I don't care, but can you please let me know how I'm doing or if you like were this story is going? I would very much appreciate it :)
