Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this story. You can thank J.K. Rowling for that. The plot, however, is mine.

A/N : Hey, guys! This is my first attempt at writing a fanfiction after being obsessed with Dramione for over 2 years. I tried my best to get rid of any mistakes in the plot, but I might have missed some. That said, this story is, like I mentioned earlier, my first one. Your reviews would give a great ego-boost! Also, Hermione might seem OOC, but I had this idea bouncing around in my head for quite a while, and I couldn't help myself. This is a multi-chapter story and contains scenes of self-harm, and other triggering content. You have been warned! Please review, won't you? It would mean a lot...

This story is dedicated to the legendary Onyx-and-Elm. Thank You for 'Breathmints and Battlescars' and for your ongoing work 'Don't Look Back'. I wish I could write that beautifully...

Draco

He had to get away. He had to get away from that Merlin-be-damned Cabinet right now or he would do something that he would very much regret later on.

Like break the bloody thing to pieces.

It was not working. He'd been trying for months now.

Silent tears of frustration running down his face, he tugged on his collar, loosening his tie as he rushed over to the one place he knew he wouldn't be seen. Even if he had to deal with a fucking ghost, of all things. Myrtle, or whatever her name was.

He pushed the door open, still fidgeting with his tie as he stepped in. After years of 'proper pureblood etiquette' training, he'd learned to move without making a sound, 'just like a Malfoy should'. Only when he finally looked up did he realize he was not alone. Sitting with her back braced against the pillar in the center of the washroom was a certain bushy-haired Mudblood.

He immediately froze in place, eyes darting around for a quick escape. If Granger saw him in this state, she would definitely go and babble to Pothead and the Weasel, and that would be the end of it. The Boy-Who-Wouldn't-Die-and-Leave-Him-The-Fuck-Alone would definitely get on his case and he would never be able to enter the Room of Hidden Things again.

Then he heard the sound. A sniffle, stifled gasping and a choking sound. He saw Granger shuddering, her entire body shivering. Too caught up in his own emotions, it took him a while to process this and put it all together.

Granger was crying.

If it had been any other girl, he probably would have felt some measure of pity, but seeing the Mudblood cry only fanned the flames of hatred that had burned in him since the moment he'd first seen her.

What was she crying about? What could possibly have gone wrong with her perfect fucking life?

Maybe Weasley had finally realized she was too filthy and had stopped pining after her like a dog? Then again, Weasley wouldn't have had the brain cells to figure that out, and besides, considering the 'person' in question, maybe she had just gotten one mark less that a 100% in her latest assignment.

Too lost in his own thoughts, he hadn't noticed the repeated motion she kept making with one arm, like she was a 'clockwork toy that had just been keyed up'. He wouldn't know what a clockwork toy was, but he'd heard one of the other Mudbloods in school use the phrase, and it seemed fitting to use a Muggle phrase for the Mudblood bitch.

Curious, he slid along the wall sideways, trying to see over her shoulder at what she was doing. Immediately he wished he hadn't. She held a razor blade in one hand, slashing repeatedly over the forearm of the other arm, deep enough to bleed voraciously, but not deep enough to kill. Too bad. It would have been one less Mudblood fouling the world.

Strangely enough, (or maybe not) her repeated actions and crying were therapeutic to him. Calming. He leaned quietly against the wall and simply watched. By the time she was finally done cutting herself up, she was sitting in a pool of her filthy blood. The sudden stopping of movement jerked him out of his reverie, and he quietly slipped out of the washroom before she could realize she had been seen.

After getting his books from the dormitory, he walked over to the Potions classroom. Most of the students were already seated, and he put his books down on one of the free seats at the back of the room. Just seconds before Slughorn arrived, he saw Granger rush in, looking completely disheveled, and take her seat next to the other two members of the fucking Golden Trio. Strangely enough, there were no blood stains to be seen. Maybe she cleaned up? No, no, that couldn't be. She'd have gotten barely a minute to get here.

Then he saw it. A faint, barely noticeable shimmering on her left forearm, and on various places on her uniform. So, a glamour charm, then. He had to grudgingly admit to himself that it was smart of her. Glamour charms usually went unnoticed, as long as you didn't know they were there. He himself had realized that they were there only because he was used to them, having applied them daily, to cover up his damned Dark Mark. The thought sent a shiver down his spine and he quickly diverted himself from that train of thought.

It would do no good for the Slytherin Prince to start hyperventilating while holding a flobberworm over his potion.