A/N: Hmm.okay, this story is popping out of me like toast (from a
toaster!)...this is my third chapter in at least a half hour...I hope you
guys enjoy this..or hate it.okay.I hope it evokes SOME KIND of emotion!!
^.~
Disclaimer: not mine not mine not mine! It all belongs to her majesty: JKR!
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As the troupe followed the new prefect, Seamus Finnigan, to the Gryffindor portrait hole, Ron watched Hermione carefully.
It surprised him that Seamus could be chosen for such a role over perfect Hermione. She was the obvious candidate, so there had to be some other reason that she hadn't received the honor.
Seamus barked out little controlling complaints such as "Move it along!" painfully reminding Ron of when Percy had been prefect. He wondered if Seamus would be bossy the whole year. He knew that he and the others would have to attack the boy if it did indeed last the rest of the year. There would be no way that Seamus could survive the entire year giving the other boys orders.
Ron turned his attention back to Hermione, who smiled timidly back up at him. He felt a momentary shock that she hadn't scolded him for staring. She was acting so...un-Hermione like. It was starting to really scare him.
He reached down and touched her hand. Without looking for approval, he scooped it up into his own, and they walked the rest of the way to Gryffindor tower, hand in hand. He smiled, noting the soft warmth of her skin. It felt so natural to just hold this girl's hand. An emotion Ron couldn't quite identify filtered through his body.
"Red Geraniums" Seamus called out to the Fat Lady in the portrait, who then nodded and opened up for them to pass through. The entire group filtered into the Gryffindor common room and listened to Seamus ramble on and on about where everything was. No one, not even the first years, seemed to be paying attention. Most everyone was tired from the long day and the ample amounts of food in their bellies.
After Seamus's rant, most of the students headed up to bed. Before Hermione could get up the stairs, Ron again reached out to grab her hand. Harry turned around next to Hermione to look at Ron in surprise, mimicking Hermione's expression.
"Ron?" asked Hermione carefully. Her voice sounded different. Harry's expression was just as quizzical.
"Harry, I'll be up in a few minutes. I just wanted to talk to Hermione for a little bit." He smiled and nodded, trying to drop the hint that maybe Harry should go ahead and continue to go upstairs.
Harry caught the indication in Ron's voice and headed back up the stairs, huffing indignantly. He immediately felt left out.
Hermione's face had gone pink. She followed him back down the stairs that led up to the dormitories. They both sat on the couch facing the fire.
"What is it Ron?" Hermione asked after they had situated themselves. They each sat cross-legged, facing each other on the dark burgundy sofa. He precariously, as if he might break her fragile body, took her hands in his own, looking up into her face with concern.
"Hermione, what did Viktor Krum do to you?" He asked, holding his breath for fear of the horrors in her reply.
To his surprise anger grew on her features. She glared at him and pulled her hands away from his.
"For your information, I did not visit Viktor over the summer! That is none of your business Ronald Weasley!" She spat at him forcefully.
Hermione leapt to her feet and rushed towards the stairs again. Ron's mind raced with thoughts. He had to stop her before she reached the girls' dormitory!
"Hermione wait! I'm sorry. That was none of my business, you're right." He stood and grasped at her wrist. He wanted to say anything that would make her feel better. He would say anything to keep her there with him.
Hermione's cold expression did not change. "Ron, you are an insensitive git!" With that, she slapped him hard across his left cheek. He noted that a fat tear rolled down her cheek before she freed her other hand of his grasp.
She ran for the stairs, and he didn't try to stop her. Instead, heated anger coursed through his veins. He HAD apologized! He cursed to himself loudly as he watched her go. She was the one who was being insensitive! He had tried to help her and at least talk about it. All he had wanted to do was help her.
But no! She didn't deem him fit enough as a friend to be able to divulge her problems to. He hated that she couldn't trust him like that. How could he have called her a 'friend'?
Ron stormed up the stairs, stomping quite loudly. He reached the boys' dormitory, and once he entered it he had to endure Seamus's wrath. The prefect proceeded to holler at him for stomping so noisily.
Ron merely ignored him as he walked over to his bed. He drew the curtains and ignored the others for the rest of the night.
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Hermione cried quietly in her own bed. All the boys in her life were screwing her up. It all made no sense. She felt the urge for that physical pain again.
In the hidden darkness of her curtains, Hermione craved the pain. She had packed the small razor blade that she had been using since the beginning, but she wondered if she could really do that here at Hogwarts. Everyone knew that Dumbledore had an uncanny ability to know everything that was happening. She didn't want him to know about her methods of distilling emotional pain.
The desire became more than she could control, so she quietly thrust her hand out of the curtains to the night stand next to her four poster. Hermione reached inside the drawer for the plastic bag containing the razor blade. Once her hand had gotten hold of it, she pulled it back into the curtains.
She remained still for a moment, to make sure that the other girls were in fact asleep. She held her breath as she gazed at the small blade. That blade had saved her from much internal turmoil.
When Hermione had found out that she would not become prefect she had been very resentful. Dumbledore had sent her a letter informing her of his decision to give Seamus the position. It was all because of the circumstances with Voldemort he had said. Hermione actually found herself bestowing some of her anger on Harry for being her friend. That was when she had begun to cut.
After a minute, Hermione determined from the snores that the other girls were asleep. She quietly opened the small plastic bag and retrieved the blade from it. She lifted up the sleeves of her dressing gown and gulped for air silently.
No matter how many times she did it, Hermione always felt an overwhelming fear just before she ran the blade along her skin. She used to be terrified of the pain, now she was afraid of the consequences. She knew that if she hit the wrong vein, she could easily bleed to death.
With an exhalation of breath, she symmetrically let the blade slice at the skin. She shuddered as droplets of blood welled up along the incisions. It was an almost addictive feeling to rid herself of the cares of the world. The cutting didn't hurt like it used to. Instead, she felt an almost enlightening sense of calm settle over her.
It felt good. She ran the blade along her skin again, crimson liquid rising from beneath the surface of her skin. All the fears and angers and resentments she had been harboring floated away as she watched the blood. She sighed contentedly, wishing that scars didn't have to result from this. The whole thing was almost an orgasmic experience. Hermione shuddered again.
After Hermione had cleaned up the blood and put the razor away, she lay back on her bed. No matter how long she stayed there, sleep did not come. Insomnia wasn't new to her. Like the cutting, it was something Hermione had grown used to over the summer. She knew that her new habits weren't healthy, but she found that there was nothing she could honestly do about them.
So, she lay there in bed and contemplated the courses she was taking. She ran through the summer reading in her head over and over again until the sun came up. She felt exhausted, but moved to get up anyhow, hearing the other girls begin to stir.
Disclaimer: not mine not mine not mine! It all belongs to her majesty: JKR!
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
As the troupe followed the new prefect, Seamus Finnigan, to the Gryffindor portrait hole, Ron watched Hermione carefully.
It surprised him that Seamus could be chosen for such a role over perfect Hermione. She was the obvious candidate, so there had to be some other reason that she hadn't received the honor.
Seamus barked out little controlling complaints such as "Move it along!" painfully reminding Ron of when Percy had been prefect. He wondered if Seamus would be bossy the whole year. He knew that he and the others would have to attack the boy if it did indeed last the rest of the year. There would be no way that Seamus could survive the entire year giving the other boys orders.
Ron turned his attention back to Hermione, who smiled timidly back up at him. He felt a momentary shock that she hadn't scolded him for staring. She was acting so...un-Hermione like. It was starting to really scare him.
He reached down and touched her hand. Without looking for approval, he scooped it up into his own, and they walked the rest of the way to Gryffindor tower, hand in hand. He smiled, noting the soft warmth of her skin. It felt so natural to just hold this girl's hand. An emotion Ron couldn't quite identify filtered through his body.
"Red Geraniums" Seamus called out to the Fat Lady in the portrait, who then nodded and opened up for them to pass through. The entire group filtered into the Gryffindor common room and listened to Seamus ramble on and on about where everything was. No one, not even the first years, seemed to be paying attention. Most everyone was tired from the long day and the ample amounts of food in their bellies.
After Seamus's rant, most of the students headed up to bed. Before Hermione could get up the stairs, Ron again reached out to grab her hand. Harry turned around next to Hermione to look at Ron in surprise, mimicking Hermione's expression.
"Ron?" asked Hermione carefully. Her voice sounded different. Harry's expression was just as quizzical.
"Harry, I'll be up in a few minutes. I just wanted to talk to Hermione for a little bit." He smiled and nodded, trying to drop the hint that maybe Harry should go ahead and continue to go upstairs.
Harry caught the indication in Ron's voice and headed back up the stairs, huffing indignantly. He immediately felt left out.
Hermione's face had gone pink. She followed him back down the stairs that led up to the dormitories. They both sat on the couch facing the fire.
"What is it Ron?" Hermione asked after they had situated themselves. They each sat cross-legged, facing each other on the dark burgundy sofa. He precariously, as if he might break her fragile body, took her hands in his own, looking up into her face with concern.
"Hermione, what did Viktor Krum do to you?" He asked, holding his breath for fear of the horrors in her reply.
To his surprise anger grew on her features. She glared at him and pulled her hands away from his.
"For your information, I did not visit Viktor over the summer! That is none of your business Ronald Weasley!" She spat at him forcefully.
Hermione leapt to her feet and rushed towards the stairs again. Ron's mind raced with thoughts. He had to stop her before she reached the girls' dormitory!
"Hermione wait! I'm sorry. That was none of my business, you're right." He stood and grasped at her wrist. He wanted to say anything that would make her feel better. He would say anything to keep her there with him.
Hermione's cold expression did not change. "Ron, you are an insensitive git!" With that, she slapped him hard across his left cheek. He noted that a fat tear rolled down her cheek before she freed her other hand of his grasp.
She ran for the stairs, and he didn't try to stop her. Instead, heated anger coursed through his veins. He HAD apologized! He cursed to himself loudly as he watched her go. She was the one who was being insensitive! He had tried to help her and at least talk about it. All he had wanted to do was help her.
But no! She didn't deem him fit enough as a friend to be able to divulge her problems to. He hated that she couldn't trust him like that. How could he have called her a 'friend'?
Ron stormed up the stairs, stomping quite loudly. He reached the boys' dormitory, and once he entered it he had to endure Seamus's wrath. The prefect proceeded to holler at him for stomping so noisily.
Ron merely ignored him as he walked over to his bed. He drew the curtains and ignored the others for the rest of the night.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Hermione cried quietly in her own bed. All the boys in her life were screwing her up. It all made no sense. She felt the urge for that physical pain again.
In the hidden darkness of her curtains, Hermione craved the pain. She had packed the small razor blade that she had been using since the beginning, but she wondered if she could really do that here at Hogwarts. Everyone knew that Dumbledore had an uncanny ability to know everything that was happening. She didn't want him to know about her methods of distilling emotional pain.
The desire became more than she could control, so she quietly thrust her hand out of the curtains to the night stand next to her four poster. Hermione reached inside the drawer for the plastic bag containing the razor blade. Once her hand had gotten hold of it, she pulled it back into the curtains.
She remained still for a moment, to make sure that the other girls were in fact asleep. She held her breath as she gazed at the small blade. That blade had saved her from much internal turmoil.
When Hermione had found out that she would not become prefect she had been very resentful. Dumbledore had sent her a letter informing her of his decision to give Seamus the position. It was all because of the circumstances with Voldemort he had said. Hermione actually found herself bestowing some of her anger on Harry for being her friend. That was when she had begun to cut.
After a minute, Hermione determined from the snores that the other girls were asleep. She quietly opened the small plastic bag and retrieved the blade from it. She lifted up the sleeves of her dressing gown and gulped for air silently.
No matter how many times she did it, Hermione always felt an overwhelming fear just before she ran the blade along her skin. She used to be terrified of the pain, now she was afraid of the consequences. She knew that if she hit the wrong vein, she could easily bleed to death.
With an exhalation of breath, she symmetrically let the blade slice at the skin. She shuddered as droplets of blood welled up along the incisions. It was an almost addictive feeling to rid herself of the cares of the world. The cutting didn't hurt like it used to. Instead, she felt an almost enlightening sense of calm settle over her.
It felt good. She ran the blade along her skin again, crimson liquid rising from beneath the surface of her skin. All the fears and angers and resentments she had been harboring floated away as she watched the blood. She sighed contentedly, wishing that scars didn't have to result from this. The whole thing was almost an orgasmic experience. Hermione shuddered again.
After Hermione had cleaned up the blood and put the razor away, she lay back on her bed. No matter how long she stayed there, sleep did not come. Insomnia wasn't new to her. Like the cutting, it was something Hermione had grown used to over the summer. She knew that her new habits weren't healthy, but she found that there was nothing she could honestly do about them.
So, she lay there in bed and contemplated the courses she was taking. She ran through the summer reading in her head over and over again until the sun came up. She felt exhausted, but moved to get up anyhow, hearing the other girls begin to stir.