TO MARRY A BLONDE GIT
Chapter 1: Hermione's Depression
Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling
This story belongs to honsukasara
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Hermione's POV
This year's going to be my year.
No more Voldemort. No more Death Eaters (well, there are some in hiding, but let's forget about them). No more war. No more camping. No more blood. No more death.
I wait for Hogwarts Express to come. My best friends, the ones that decide that they've done with school and thought that auror training is better, stand beside me. But I want to get things done one and for all. The reason why I went to school years ago when I was eleven was to graduate proudly with brilliant score of NEWTS. There's no way I could abandon that dream of mine. Not even after I got myself The Order of Merlin: First Class as a heroine of the second wizarding war. As one of The Golden Trio. As the brightest witch of my age. If Harry and Ron want to go to chase some more dark wizards, then so be it. I just want to calm my nerves and be a normal student for once. Without me having to keep us from being expelled or failed at exams.
"Are you really alright, Hermione?" asks Harry. "I mean, if you want to take a break for a year or so, I can guarantee that McGonagall gives you that permission."
Of course she'll give me. But I don't want that.
Harry looks at me as if I am the kicked puppy, which I am might look like right now. I don't feel good. Well, I feel like I can collapse at any moment. I'm worried about things, but you can't blame me. There could be a death eater in the train right now coming for me, waiting until I settled in one of the compartment all by myself and attacking me after threatening the whole train full of students and teachers.
"Hermione… Hermione!" Yeah, Harry makes that face again. The face that shows that I should go to St. Mungo's right now. As if I need treatment for magical maladies and injuries right now. "Hey, don't you hear me?"
"I'm sorry," I said. "Yes, yes I am alright."
"You don't look healthy, Hermione." It's Ron this time. "You really want to do this?"
"Yes, Ron. You've asked me a hundred times already. I want to get my own NEWTS." I shout at him. I know I'm being rude and all, but they really bothered me since like a month ago. Or more. I don't really remember.
"Let's get you to the compartment, then," said Harry.
I didn't realize that the train is already here. Did I really lose in thought? I look at my watch. Five minutes before eleven.
Harry walks in front of me and Ron, checking the compartment one by one to find the empty one. It is almost the last compartment near the back of the train that he finally deems it good enough for me. Along the way, Ron's holding one of my hand and guiding me through the crowd while his other hand carrying my suitcase. It's long since we both realize that nothing romantic ever happened between us. We love each other in a platonic way, just like how I love Harry and how I love each of his sibling. Then I sit there while look at Ron adjusting my suitcase.
"We're going, Hermione." Harry hugs me. "Write a letter as soon as you arrived. Know that you can always come back home."
I cannot hug him back. My hands are just too numb.
"Or you can just floo-call us. Believe me, McGonagall wouldn't mind." Ron hugs me too, and again, I cannot move my hands to hug him back. "We're going to miss you."
"Miss you too," finally I manage to speak.
Both of them look at me with worries plastered on their faces. Is my condition that bad? I just feel that I am done with people need me all the time so I want to act as I please.
I want to get my NEWTS done. I want to worry myself about death eaters in hiding. I want to live my life without anyone's suggest. I want to love the man I want to. Yes, and I want to forget about all war-related.
"Granger."
I snap my head at the compartment's door. There stand with not so regal pose, the one and only death eater not in hiding: Draco Malfoy.
I tremble. This is it. He wants to kill me.
Looking at me, he closes the door quickly and guards it with his wand. Then he stands in front of me and holds both of my shoulders. "Hey, don't pass out!" he screams. I feel like I just running and catch my breath. "I don't know you're here first. But know you're in bad condition, I'll be damned if I go out. First person I meet outside this compartment will instantly send me to Azkaban after finding you in that condition. Even if I don't do anything."
Azkaban. Right. He'll go to the Azkaban as soon as possible if he tries anything to me. It's alright. It's alright. As soon as I could handle myself, I get his hands out of my shoulders.
"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" I snap.
"Look, if you don't want me here, I'll go. Just… Just please don't make this more difficult for me. I'm suffered enough."
"No," I shake my head. "Just sit there. I'm sorry."
Of course he suffered enough. His parents went to Azkaban because Harry testified just for him. Some of his family assets went to ministry too, but it looks like he's still rich enough to make his own life. And to buy that outfit.
Malfoy sits across of me. He reads something that looks like a copy of 7th years text book about potion. A book that I should have read months ago. But I didn't have time because… because they said that I still tried to manage my depression.
Depression.
As if it is just me that went crazy after the war.
"You okay?" Oh, God. Am I just staring at him? "You're staring," he says without lifting his head.
"No, I mean, yes. I just, a little bit worried." He glances to my direction and closes the book on his lap. "You are… I mean you were a Dea… Never mind. I shouldn't have said that. I am just rambling nonsense."
I almost slip and call him a Death Eater in front of his face. Do you have a death wish, Hermione Granger?
"That you are, Granger," said him. "I heard about you, too."
"About me?" I haven't read Daily Prophet since a few months back. Well, I can't really read anything when I was hiding myself under the warm blanket in my dark room. I needed reassurance that I was safe back then. And still. "Are you talking about The Prophet?"
He shrugs. "Yes, and other newspapers. I thought they were exaggerating your condition. Now I know they're not."
"What did they say?" I feel sweat on my forehead. This sounds bad.
I can see Malfoy wetting his dry lips from here. His gaze fixes into mine. "They said that you were in a bad condition. That you were suffered after the war."
"Don't we all?" I ask. Because the war is really bad and last time I check, it even causes chaos outside Britain.
"We do suffer." He leans into me. "You are one of the main characters of the winning side and you lost that much. Can you imagine how is it to be me?"
I feel like I want to cry. If Malfoy won't kill me with his wand, now he will kill me with guilt alone.
"Yet we get up and move on, Granger. Not stuck our nose in the past and sink in fear."
I want to object. I might have suffered more because of him and his lord. But then a very strong light hits my eyes until I feel like I'm in pain. The world rotates too fast around me until it settles and I forced to stand up.
I cannot see anything yet. There's something blocking my eyes. But the last thing I know before I'm black out is that I say, "I do."