Chapter X
Hermione's Point of View
I awoke at 8:00 sharp when my eyes burst open. I frantically took in my surroundings. I was on the Quidditch Field, face down in the mud. When my eyes opened, they instantly filled with mud – I opened my lids and shook them out as best I could. I slowly lifted my head, but it was too much for my feeble neck. I heard the calls of birds softly from the distance.
"Shut up," I grunted as I began to crawl. Drawing upon all my inner haste, I stood up, swinging my wand proudly in front of me. With my wand stiff and quivering with my anticipation in my hand, I killed the birds swiftly and began to strut towards their twitching corpses. I grasped them by their tails and held them up to the morning sun.
Excellent, I muttered to myself, and began to skin them. I took great satisfaction in ripping the skin from their supple flesh. I slowly ripped the wings apart, separating the joints from the body. I heard the crack of cartilage and let loose a small squeal. Hearing the snap of the sinew made my heart beat faster, gave me new life, flushed me with excitement. As a warm feeling spread throughout my body, I plucked the feathers from each skin and began to weave a headdress. Crunching on the body of the first bird, the blood from its raw meat dribbling down my chin, I worked tirelessly on my headdress. It became more elaborate and colorful after each bird's feathers were added. I howled with delight upon its completion. But I needed more feathers.
Hungry for blood, I roamed the campus of Hogwarts, dressed only in caked mud and my feathered headdress. I was hunting a large fowl near the main doors of the castle when Justin Finch-Fletchley opened the doors, his body glowing in the morning sunlight.
"Justin Finch-Fletchley!" I screeched with pleasure, scaring my prey away. I descended upon the main doors with a fury I had never before experienced. I lunged at him with fire in my eyes.
"What…I don't…" Justin Finch-Fletchley mumbled.
"Be quiet! I can't talk over you! Start taking your clothes off," I commanded. I tapped my toes in anticipation. He stood there like a fool.
"Can we talk about this? I'm not sure—" Justin Finch-Fletchley began to say.
I rolled my eyes, let loose a feral shriek and tore his clothes off with my teeth. I curled his robes into a tight ball, my fists working with some sort of supernatural haste. I hurled it over my shoulder and began to lick his nose.
It was at this moment that I realized what I had become. Memories of the night before came flooding back. The vodka, the legal pads, the sheet music – the timpani! I gasped and let go of Justin Finch-Fletchley's neck. "This… this isn't right," I muttered, darting away like an animal.
I hid in the forest for hours. I huddled under a tree, shuddering as the moon began to rise in the night. Slowly I made my way to the lake. I bathed myself in its shallow waters, cleansing my body of last night's sweat and this morning's blood.
Suddenly, I gasped. I had missed all of that day's classes.
"Fuck!" I shrieked. I ripped off my headdress and sprinted to the castle. I hurriedly put on some clothes, any clothes, and tried to comb my hair. It was impossibly matted, caked in mud and tequila, like the mane of a lion. I inconspicuously entered my dormitory, surveying the damage of the night before. I didn't even remember going there last night, but my confusion quickly turned to horror.
Harry and Victoria had become one, their limbs and extremities flailing violently on top of the timpani. In a rare lucid moment, I squealed, "Careful! The drum—" but it was too late. They fell inside of it, not even seeming to notice the damage they had caused. I shrugged and jumped in after them. Smearing Reddi Wip all over myself, I let out a noise of pure animalistic desire. Victoria screeched and accidentally punched me in the face. I liked it.
I backed away from the bed. Did any of it really happen? But as I stared at myself in the mirror, gazing at the bruise that had formed over my left eye, I realized that it was all too real.
I opened the window next to my bed, desperate for fresh air. I struggled to fill my lungs with air, inhaling wildly but producing little result. My eyes widened as I looked down on the trail of ripe pears that littered the grounds of Hogwarts. I tried to remember how exactly I ended up on the Quidditch Field, but I couldn't think of it.
Oh wait. I could.
Filled with an unquenchable desire, I stared at the full moon from inside the timpani. "This needs to move outside," I hissed. The walls of the broom closet couldn't contain me. The other three agreed and we sprinted down the stairs to the greenhouse. Ron was pushing the timpani, now filled with vodka. Harry was attempting to pleasure Victoria as they ran, but he tripped over himself and face-planted into the vegetable garden. I cackled with insanity, suddenly feeling the full effect of the alcohol.
We hastened past the greenhouses and all of a sudden stood in front of the Whomping Willow. "Wouldn't it be exciting to do it in the branches?" Harry asked politely. "What? No," I responded, and kept dashing along. He and Victoria may have stayed behind for a minute or so, but soon they were behind us.
The moon had risen ever so slightly. With our senses so heightened, it was easy to be quick, and we barely noticed the bridge underneath our feet as we galloped over it. The four of us had forgotten the timpani at the Willow, soaked with vodka and reeking of expired yogurt. We charged towards the Quidditch Field, our feet wounded by our impossibly quick speed.
The four of us stood for a moment on the field, catching our breath. I imagined the stands filled with spectators. Playing to my imaginary audience, I grabbed Ron and shoved him into the mud. "Do me!" I wailed as I fell to the ground. Harry and Victoria wandered over and began to disrobe yet again. The fearsome foursome was about to embark on their most depraved act yet – and I would be the main player.
As each incident played itself back in my mind, I felt myself flush with terror. What had I done? Why had this happened? Why did I listen to anything Harry said? The answers all escaped me.
I calmly walked down the stairs of my dormitory, attempting to perform an appreciative inquiry on the events of last night. But my efforts proved to be fruitless. For me, nothing had gone as planned. Worse still, something deep inside my soul was eating away at me – the vague sense that our doom was approaching. I spied Professor McGonagall in the hallway, her eyes boring a hole into mine.
"Good morning, Miss Granger," she chirped. "Up all night writing my essay?"
"Yes… yes, of course," I chorused, cringing as I realized that it was unfinished, sitting somewhere deep within the maelstrom of sexual intensity that was my dormitory. I walked away, feeling a pang of regret as I took each step. My plan, as it turns out, had failed.