A/N: VampireNaomi, you're right...this is pretending that basically everything in the sixth book never happened. I forgot to mention that at the beginning. Sorry!
Firnoviel, you're right, too...Harry should understand the Muggle sayings. What was I thinking? Thanks for the catch.
Thanks to all my reviewers, you guys are awesome. :) Keep reviewing, and enjoy.
Never Lose Strength
Chapter 4
"It's seven." Ginny announced. "Club Gryff is now in session."
Harry, Ron, Ginny, Lavender, Parvati, Neville, Seamus, and Dean were gathered in the Room of Requirements. They had set up their schedule—every Wednesday, after the end of everyone's last class—and the girls had oh so creatively named the club Club Gryff. It was the first week.
The Room had conjured up comfy sofas, chairs, and pillows, and they had even planned on having Muggle games, except that….
"Oh…." Lavender looked around the room, crestfallen. "Hermione isn't here, is she?"
Ron shook his head. "She's still in her room."
"What do you suppose happened?" Parvati sat in a chair, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. "I feel so sorry for her. The Professors could've blended into a wall with the looks they had on."
Seamus nodded. "It looked right serious. Has she been in classes?"
"Yeah," Harry said. "Well, the ones she has with me. But she doesn't talk, and she doesn't raise her hand, she just sits there with that same face, the one that doesn't quite have anything on it."
Ginny let out a deep sigh. And then she sat up. "Oh! I've a brilliant idea! Let's surprise her, with a party!"
"Brilliant," Neville agreed. "We should take some Exploding Snap over."
"And chess!" Ron added eagerly.
"Canary Creams always cheer me up," Dean offered.
They passed their first meeting of Club Gryff by discussing how they could go about throwing Hermione a cheer-up party, and Weasley's Wizard Wheezes and Invisibility Cloak was mentioned more than once.
--
Draco Malfoy growled and knocked on the bathroom door again. No, not knocked; pounded. "GRANGER!" He bellowed. "Hurry the bloody hell up!"
She had been in there for the past…long time. He was getting tired of waiting for her. He knew she was in some sort of deep depression; he had seen the professors take her from the Three Broomsticks, and then when he had gotten back later that night, he had heard her sobs from the common room. He had knocked on her door and told her so, and after that she had put up silencing spells in her room.
But now she was hogging the bathroom, and he really, really needed a shower. For God's sake, she had been stuck in her little shell for four days! The girl needed to toughen up and get her filthy behind out of the bathroom.
"Go away, Malfoy!" Came the reply. Even Draco could tell that her heart wasn't into it; she didn't have the usual snotty tone she reserved for just him. Hah. Just him. Made him feel special, in a twisted sort of way.
"I need a shower!" He roared back.
"Use the prefect's bathroom."
Draco didn't answer. Why the hell should he use the prefect's bathroom? This was his bathroom, and he fully intended to use it. "Come on, Granger. I don't need you dirtying up everything more than you already have. As much as I would love to use the prefect's bathroom, which has none of your filthiness on it, I have no time!"
Silence.
Footsteps.
The door slowly opened, and there was Granger, standing in her towel, looking quite as pale as it, with red-rimmed eyes and a tired-looking face. He looked down at her, and for a second their eyes locked. Startled, he looked away. "Fine. Take it." She whispered, and turned and disappeared out her door.
Draco was awestruck. Never, ever in his life had he seen someone looking like Granger had just looked. She looked so vulnerable and scared and alone, and she had made no attempt to hide it; it was like she just didn't care anymore. What could have happened that made her so drastically different? Four days ago, she wouldn't have been caught dead letting Draco see her in just a towel. But now….
Whatever. It wasn't any of Draco's business, and it wasn't like he really cared. He enjoyed Granger's pain. She shouldn't even be at Hogwarts. But…those brown eyes…it wasn't like he had never seen her eyes before. But those eyes looked haunted. They looked empty. He was so used to seeing them happy, or at least full of her emotions. But it seemed like every last bit of feeling had abandoned her. He shuddered involuntarily, and stepped into the bathroom to take his shower.
--
Hermione could barely move. Her legs and arms felt as heavy as lead, and her head was a hundred times worse. It was like her body had been through a hurricane and tornado and earthquake and tsunami all on the same day, but she wasn't outwardly battered; it was inside that she was being ripped apart, bit by bit.
It was hard enough to go to classes. She had to drag herself out of the now deep, dark confines of her room and attend her classes, and try to pay attention, try to snap out of it. And then she would wander back, feeling like a zombie, ignoring her friends, ignoring everything. She hated it, and yet she had no energy to keep going. She had no energy to try to be normal. She did'nt have any motivation.
This is what you get for a whole summer of fun, forgetting your duties, She had tried to tell herself. And then she had taken it to heart, and everything came crashing down. It was her fault. Her fault. She led them to them. Everything was her fault.
An impossible tear ran down her cheek again, as she forced herself out of her room and to the kitchen that was part of the Head's dorm. She had thought she was all cried out, all dried out. She felt as shriveled as she imagined her Grandma was, at age 97—like a dry raisin.
Maybe some water would help. She grabbed a glass from the cabinet, and began to fill it; but it slipped through her hands at the extra weight of the water, and smashed into a million little pieces on the floor. The tears kept coming, then. Nothing could keep them back. The impossible could happen. Like what had happened. And what was happening now—she was crying the tears that weren't left.
She sank down to her knees, and then further, until she was sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall, her arms across her knees, her head hung below. She let the tears fall freely, and when she felt the pain in her foot and saw the trickle of blood, and the piece of glass, she took no notice. Everything swirled violently, and things were changing colors as fast as—
Everything went dark.
--
Draco opened up the portrait, muttered the password, and slipped inside to the common room. His stomach was killing him—and it was halfway between lunch and dinner. He really, really needed food. Luckily, something in Hogwarts was smart, because they had put a kitchen right there for them.
Draco was heavily surprised to find Granger sitting there, in the fetal position, surrounded by broken glass. He had expected she would still be moping up in her room. Sigh. Why did she always have to be everywhere, an annoyance? He carefully stepped around her, going to make himself a grilled cheese.
He had already finished eating it, and she still hadn't moved. "Granger!" He said loudly. She didn't move. "Granger, get your Mudblood arse off the kitchen floor."
She moved. She got up slowly, as if in a trance, wobbling, looking like she was about to fall. Draco sneered at her. He wasn't going to help her. This was totally her problem. If she fell and bonked her head, it was entirely her fault. He might as well sit back and watch the show.
"You—you—" She whispered in a voice so raspy, it sounded more like a house elf's than her own. "I…can't…you…" She let out an anguished cry, her eyes looking more vacant than ever, but even that was halfhearted. "How can you be so…cruel? I can't believe you…would…." She turned and ran unsteadily off, tripping once and falling, but gripping a couch to get herself back up and heading more slowly toward her room. She practically crawled up the stairs, while Draco just watched, and finally disappeared inside.
It was then that Draco noticed the small trail of blood she had left along her way.
Draco felt a twinge of guilt.
No. That was not guilt. So what if Granger thought he was a mean person? That wasn't exactly new news. Whatever. Disgusted with himself for even considering feeling guilty, he headed up to his own room to study for Charms.
