Hermione's head was filled with one continuous word as it marched in a steady line across her subconscious. Mudblood. Mudblood. Mudblood. Mudblood. Mudblood. She witnessed as the word twisted and stretched, before morphing into a muddled mess of - suddenly blood-soaked - consonants and vowels. There was a pressure in her hand and she was dimly aware of the tongue of a snake hissing in her ear that she somehow instinctively knew was forcing her hand to write.
She could feel the snake turn away from her ear before it attacked her, striking in the direction of her hand. Its fangs pierced her. Then there was the sensation of its poison spreading through her body. A horrifying feeling not unlike that of venom coursing through her, settled in the pit of her stomach. The source of this wound also acted as a source for an unsettling and overwhelming humiliation. She was bare, her shame on display for all to see. Mudblood. Tainted. Unclean. Worthless. No amount of knowledge or skill could mask her impurities.
M-U-D-B-L-O-O-D. Her thoughts were a unified dagger manifesting themselves painfully as they carved out eight agonizing letters in the forefront of her mind. And suddenly there was a physical anguish in her hand that mirrored the torment of her mind. The pain was sudden, stabbing and white hot with pain. It seared through her scar; then it erupted from her hand, outwards towards her body. Engulfing her. She couldn't handle it; her head was pounding just as fast and as hard as her heart. She was going to faint.
Then nothing. Then everything, as her brain drew in all the details of her surroundings. It was now truly her existence, her life, her world. Everything was real. Freedom. She was no longer trapped and tormented within herself. Her entire body felt to finally be letting out a breath that it had been struggling to hold as the tension seeped out of her limb by limb. She was no longer living a nightmare. Her still adrenaline laden mind somehow managed to latch onto an obscure thought of irony. Was it not the escape from reality that one normally found solace in? For her it was the imagined and surreal that she longed to escape and her reality that brought her peace. Her ever active mind would latch onto such a thought.
The pale glow of morning illuminated her dormitory giving the space a slightly golden hue. Hermione could still feel pain emanating from her hand but in a way, it almost felt muffled like the memory of discomfort. Her emotions which had only a moment ago been overwhelmed by fear and then relief had now cooled. They were distant. She wasn't happy, sad or scared she just felt empty.
Turning onto her side Hermione saw the mess of pink and rawness and red, damage enacted by her own hand. The word was already distorted and was on top of that swollen making it hard to read but Hermione didn't have to go through difficulty deciphering it. She knew what it spelled out both in literal terms and in the societal prejudice that was directed towards her and her kind.
Getting to her feet Hermione tore the sheets from the bed, looking down and the pile of fabric. She gazed intently at the sizable blood spoiled patch.
Quietly, so as not to wake her fellow room-mates Hermione made her way to the communal bathroom. Tossing the sheets into the shower she opened a small cabinet and removed a box labeled vanishing multi-purpose stain remover. Pulling out one of the white pouches she tore off the top and sprinkled the contents onto the sheets.
Leaving the powder to do its job Hermione walked over to the sink. Turning on both taps to full blast she stuck her hands under the water flowing from the spout scrubbing at the dried blood that caked her skin.
Hermione lifted her left hand pulling it out of the water to examine the black quill's handywork. The word was bright red with irritation and small beads of blood began to gather around the edges of the wound.
Why is it still bleeding? She mused. Hand injuries don't typically bleed this much do they?
Grabbing a fresh towel to press against her hand Hermione walked over to the shower. She was surprised and confused to see the bedding still covered in a rusty stain.
There was a knock on the bathroom door and the sleepy voice of Lavender Brown drifted through the keyhole. "Hermione are you done yet. You've been in there forever and I have to go pee."
Grabbing the sheets, she stuffed them into her clothes hamper using the clothes that had been inside to cover the unpleasant blood-stain from view.
Back in the dormitory Hermione headed over to her bedside dresser opening the bottom drawer and pulling out a fresh set of school robes. Placing the pile onto her bed she turned back to the dresser. She was about to open the top drawer when her attention was pulled towards an object she has never seen before. A small cylindrical container lay on top of a piece of white parchment. Carefully lifting the object in apprehension, she pulled out the note unfolding it to reveal its contents.
Dear Hermione.
This is a salve that George and I invented to help heal our cuts and wounds. I figure you should at least try using this seeing as you've been unwilling to go up to the hospital wing. Try using it on your injury it may help speed up the healing process.
Fred.
Hermione eyed the container with a look of suspicion. It was her natural instinct to mistrust anything given to her by the Weasley twins then again Fred had seemed genuinely worried about her last night. His note seemed sincere as well. The worst they would do would be to somehow frustrate or embarrass her. It's not as if that would be the end of the world.
Throwing caution to the wind she unscrewed the lid to reveal a thick brown paste. On closer inspection Hermione discovered that the substance had a strong woodsy scent that seemed vaguely familiar.
A few minutes and a roll of gauze later Hermione entered the common room with a freshly bandaged hand and a need to go to the library.
As she made her way to the portrait hole Hormone noticed a flash of red in the corner of her vision. Turing she could see the peaceful form of Fred Weasley asleep with his head resting against a pile of indecipherable papers.
"Fred." At the sound of his name Fred startled awake. His movement sent papers flying. As he sat up Hermione noticed that one of the papers has stuck itself to Fred's cheek attached by a line of drool.
"Morning Mione... Looking fetching as always." Said Fred his words slurring together.
"I could say the same to you." Hermione smiled gesturing towards Fred's makeshift pillow. Smirking Fred peeled the paper from his cheek before giving Hermione a cheeky wink.
"Heading somewhere?" he questioned noting the rather large bag at her side.
"The library", she replied lifting her rug shack as evidence. "I have a few things I need to research."
"Ahh last minute homework. I always find that I do my best work in the last few minutes before class starts."
Rolling her eyes Hermione turned managing to take a step forward before Fred's voice stopped her.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you. If Ron and Harry wake up to find that you've wondered off again I'll have hell to pay. My beautiful face can only handle so many jinks." As if remembering the pain of the night before Fred lifted a hand to his cheek pouting like only he could.
"Last night was your own fault", Hermione snapped trying her best to be indifferent to the quivering of Fred's lower lip. "You should have never run off with Harry's map especially when you knew how worried about me they were."
"I see your point", he sighed. "But if I had let those two come along I would not have been your only night in shining armour."
"Pfft. Knight in shining armour? You're the reason I had detention in the first place."
"Hey!" He cut in. "You said you'd forgiven me for that." The pout had returned to Fred's face.
"And I have, but I didn't need you to come 'save' me I was perfectly fine. Anyways", Hermione pushed past Fred heading toward the portrait hole. "If you'll excuse me I have some important research that I must attend to in the library.
"Shall I tell Harry and Ron where you've run off to." Fred called after her.
"Yes please."
Shaking his head Fred smiled, there was no denying that he liked Hermione Granger very much.
…
"You're late." Professor Umbridge ushered the Weasly twins into her office with a look of undisguised displeasure apparent on her face.
"So sorry professor, so sorry me and...and George were doing some reading in the library. I Fred never meant to cause Ms. Umbridge any trouble."
Umbridge narrowed her eyes closing the door and walking over to her desk.
"Now I'm sure I don't need to explain why you're here.
Resting his index finger on his chin in a thoughtful position Fred tilted his head "Well, actually I wouldn't mind a bit of a refresher." he said his eyes focusing in on a point above Umbridge's face.
Umbridge's mouth drew into a thin line her annoyance evident. "I don't appreciate insignificant little students such as you trying to make a mockery of me. You unnatural pair are known around Hogwarts as unmanageable miscreants. I am here to ensure that your trouble making is put to an end.
"Oh you is a bad, bad wizard Fred. A bad, bad wizard. An apology for trouble making should forthwith be made."
"I must say your reputation does not do you two justice, you are less than impressive in person. Even your vocabulary and grammatical skills are atrocious." Umbridge sneered.
"I apologize for Fred he is not knowing what he is saying." George squeaked looking at Umbridge with scared eyes.
Umbridge threw up her hands in exasperation. "I rest my case. I can't believe an educated woman such as myself has to deal with such idiocy."
Cutting the air with her wand Umbridge made two long pieces of parchment fly into her hand. Gesturing for the twins to take a seat she slammed the parchment onto the long writing desk in the corner of her office.
"I trust you two know how to write."
"Umm… we will try." Fred smiled painfully.
A/N: Hello all sorry for the long break… writer's block and all that, not to mention exams. We hope you like this chapter, please give us your thoughts.