Chapter 4

HEY... SO HARRY TOLD ME

YOU TWO TALKED. I GET THAT YOU

FEEL WEAK SHOWING ME THAT SIDE

OF YOU… BUT I LOVE YOU, ANGEL.

YOU KNOW I DO. AND. THAT'S NOT

CHANGING. OKAY? SO. I'M HERE FOR YOU.

WHENEVER IT IS YOU WANT TO TALK.

LOVE YOU,

R.

P.S. IGNORE MY SEEMINGLY ANGRY SELF,

I JUST HAVE TO GET OVER THAT YOU CAN

TALK TO HARRY AND NOT ME.

SORRY IN ADVANCE.

It was already Thursday. She had received his owl during her free period the previous day, after ignoring him all of Tuesday, and apologizing shortly after, that same night. Well more… him shouting at her… and her crying… and then him feeling bad. And then her apologizing.

She was in Double Potions now with the Slytherins, running her fingers over the little note gingerly.

Neville eyed her warily through his peripherals, no doubt worrying that the only way he could pass the class was currently not paying attention.

Suddenly she felt a presence behind her, quickly stuffing the piece of parchment into her robe pocket.

"Miss Gu-Granger. I'd app-ppreciate it if y-you paid ATTENTION, INSTEAD OF WA-WASTING MY TIME," his labored and guttural voice sneered darkly.

Even with small speech impediment, he was still as threatening as ever. That plus monthly/seasonal anti-venom doses, he was the same old Snape everyone had learned and loved to hate.

She mentally scowled but quickly apologized and grabbed her quill.

"Twenty points from G-Gryffindor. For seri-ious lack of focu-uhs, Miss Granger," he admonished, stalking away to his desk, robes billowing characteristically.

Several groans were heard throughout the classroom.

"Quiet! Now get back to w-work. All of y-you!" he barked, sitting down and pulling a stack of papers toward himself.

And then it hit her. Hard. She was a disappointment. To her friends. To her House.

'Told you you were a good for nothing TWAT. Not worthy to lick the dirt off my SHOES.'

'No. NOT here. Not now,' she scolded herself interiorly. It had been days since she had the urge to cut. And it felt amazing. Especially after talking to Harry. She felt lighter than she had on Sunday after… well. She felt lighter than she had before.

I can fight this. I know I can.

'No. You can't. You're weak. Insignificant. Stupid. A MUDBLOOD. Filthy little witch. You know you need it. Come on, you dirty weakling. DO IT.'

She was gripping her quill, staring at her textbook, trying to jot down notes.

'FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT. NOTHING BUT A SPOILED BRAT BROUGHT UP BY THOSE DISGUSTING MUGGLES.'

"SHUT UP!" she yelled, slamming her open hands on the desk. 'Oh shit,' she thought, eyes wide. That was out loud. Correction: That was VERY out loud.

"M-Miss Gra-anger! 50 points from Gr-ryfindor! And d-detention tonight-t!" Snape bellowed from his desk, standing up. "Class d-dismissed! OUT! NOW! Not you Miss Gr-ranger. S-stay behind."

'Oh SHIT,' she thought once more. She looked at her best friend and her boyfriend and gave them both a reassuring nod. They weren't convinced and she knew she would have a lot of explaining to do later.

She turned her attention back to her professor, as she stood slowly to approach him, the last of the Slytherins laughing their way out.

"I'm so sorry, Professor. I didn—"

"Enough! You-u've been acting out of character all w-week, Miss Granger, d-don't think I haven't taken notice. If it is, in fa-act, a p-p-personal problem, I'm sure P-Poppy would be more than w-willing to ass-i-i-st you. Be glad we weren't doing an-anything p-practical, or else I'm sure you would have s-surely bl-blown up the entire class-r-room. Now-w, get out of my sight. And be pr-rompt tonight at 6pm. And w-wear clothing you won-n't mind getting ru-ruined," he preached.

She just blushed furiously and stared at her shoes. Gods, how she hated how he made her feel like she was 11 all over again.

"Yes, sir. I apologize again, sir."

*o*o*o*

Hermione avoided the Common Room, knowing that she would be bombarded with questions.

Not only that she was worried that word would have quickly spread about her sudden mad-woman like outburst.

Not that she normally minded, it just created more of a headache than she already had. Pushing the thought away, she headed toward the library.

She found her small corner hidden by bookshelves and relaxed, throwing her things to the ground and curling up on a thick armchair.

'Greaaat job, down there. Really. Gave a better show that I ever could have, my sweet.'

"Yeah. Cuz you're fucking dead," she grumbled to herself.

'Now that's not very nice. All I wanted was to feel that delicious blade against your soft skin.'

"Ughhhh. Will you just go AWAY," she mumbled into the sofa.

'Do this for me and I gladly will, my pet. At least until the next time I get hungry comes about.'

She cringed. It felt so much like Bellatrix was inside her. So much so, that she feared part of Bellatrix's soul was still living, deep within the confines of Hermione.

She shook the thought from her mind. She was fine. She didn't need it at the moment.

Right now, she really didn't have to listen.