CHAPTER 1~ Just Another Day
She looked at the silver blade as she contemplated running it over her already scarred wrist. It started months ago and she couldn't seem to cease this rash activity. The blade is cool against her flawed skin. She pressed down roughly but didn't drag it; not yet. She thought ^What am I doing this for? Why do I put up with the pain of this when I can just end it all now? There are other ways I can go around this.^ She sighed. No, not death. Not yet. With a swift movement she made another slash. Then another just for the hell of it.
Blood. Her blood, running down her pale skin. Beautiful, red, flowing. She loved it. It took her to another planet. Her own alter world where everything was perfect. Yeah right, a perfect world. It doesn't exist.
She brought her wrist to her mouth and sucked the blood that was flowing freely. The taste of her blood took her to new places. She didn't know what her passion for blood was, but there was something.
Sleep. It over-took her body after every time she bled. Maybe it was the drain of what she needed to survive. Her eyes drifted closed. Her hand fell limply by her side, the knife falling from her grasp. Dreams. They flooded her mind night after night. That dream. Those eyes. That hair. Always the same. Always haunting. What could it mean?
XXXDreamXXX
She walked along the silent corridor. Her mortal enemy awaiting her arrival at the other end. Silver-blonde haired, grey-eyed, arrogant. That was he. He took her hand in his and rolled up the sleeve of her large hoody. A long, pale finger traced the new scars. He brought her wrist to his lips and planted butterfly kisses along her scars. She tried to pull away, but his other arm snaked around her waist and pulled her closer to him.
"Going so fast, love?" he questioned. "What, don't want to stay?" His voice tormented her. His eyes filled with sarcasm.
"Let me go," she hissed.
"Oh, but where would you go? Back to that house? To where you don't belong? You could be here, with me."
"I wouldn't go with you if you were the last man on Earth. I'd rather take my chances at home than with you and your.do you call that a family?"
He glared at her. "And what do you call the scoundrels you live with?"
She held her glare. Never show weakness. It was the one rule she made for herself. "Do not ever talk about my family. You know nothing about it. You do not know what I have been through."
"Oh, but I do, my dear. I know all too well." He leaned closer to her and nibbled on her ear. "Would you like me to tell you all I know?" he whispered.
"No," she breathed breathlessly. "I don't want to know." Her eyes closed as she turned her head slightly and caught his lips in hers. "Just make me forget. Make me forget everything."
He kissed her again. Rough and deep. Filled with lust as well as passion. He began to run his hands along her body.
XXXEnd DreamXXX
Her eyes snapped open. She groaned inwardly and buried her face in her pillow. It was the same every night. Sleep was never something she could come by. He haunted her. Every day he taunted her. Why then did he fill her dreams? What does he know?
The clock read 3:54 am. For hours she sat and stared out her window. Hours contemplating how to dress for school the next day. Hours coming up with snide remarks that might help her defend herself against him. Hours trying to figure out the best way to flee her home.
At 5:45 she rose from her bed and dressed (she showered the night before). By five-to-six she was ready for the hell that awaited her.
"Bitch, get down here now!" a male voice screamed.
She trudged down the stairs. Another great wake up call from the man who called himself her father.
Ever since her mother died the year before, life had gone downhill for Hermione Granger. Her father had become abusive. Her brothers beat her up without so much a scolding from their "father." At school she was able to put up a façade around her. No one knew anything was wrong. Faked smiled, false happiness, unnatural giddiness from drinking too much coffee in the mornings before departing for her high school. She could do it all.
"Yes, Father," she mumbled as she stood before him.
"Breakfast before I go to work," he demanded not shifting his gaze from the T.V. that was replaying clips from all the sports games and races from the previous day.
She rolled her eyes. "You're unemployed. Make your own damn breakfast. I got a bus to catch." Grabbing her book bag off the floor, she stormed out the door and slammed it behind her.
She strolled down to the street corner where she met up with her two best friends, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. Her breath was visible in the cool winter air. They were the only two people who really knew what went on in her life. She greeted them both with a hug.
"'Morning boys," she muttered with a faked smile. "I don't know how you put up with me everyday."
"'Cause we're your best friends, 'Mione," Harry responded while looking at her sympathetically. "You know that we will always be here for you."
"Yeah, even if it is 20 below zero," Ron chimed in.
"Thanks," she said as she lit a cigarette.
Harry and Ron exchanged glances as they continued the long walk toward their school. They preferred walking to taking the bus, so they always left early so they would arrive on time.
"Why do you insist on doing that?" Ron asked. "It's bad for your health."
Hermione sighed as she took a long drag. "Because it relaxes me."
Harry shook his head at Ron. A signal to not pursue the issue.
The bitter air cut through their skin, chilling them to the bone. Harry kept rubbing his gloved hands to his cheeks while Ron folded his arms tightly across his chest. Both bent their heads down against the wind.
The only one who didn't seem to mind was Hermione. All she wore was a black hoody with a flaming skull printed on to it and baggy jeans. Her fingers were un-gloved and she wore no form of protection on her head. She walked with her head up, seemingly unaffected by the biting air.
The school was could be seen by now. Harry and Ron were grateful, but Hermione was a bit downtrodden. She hated going to that place every single day. She hated the teachers, her classmates, the principals, even the janitors were on her shit list. They all thought she was smart, a bookworm, the person that would tutor them if ever they were having trouble. Just because she received good grades didn't mean she studied. In fact, she only ever opened her books to do her homework when at home.
Groups were already forming in the courtyard. The jocks in one corner, preps in another, the skaters and punks grouped together, the wannabe skaters, the nerds, the gangs. They were all there.
Hermione, Harry, and Ron found their group. It consisted of mostly skaters and punks, but they chose not to associate with the others. It was a group of outcasts. The ones who were truly different. The ones who didn't want to belong. They were always there for each other to rely, this group of about ten or so. No backstabbing occurred, no lies or deceit, nothing that would hurt any other member. It was just.them.
Hermione greeted her friends with her faked smile. They all believed it to be real. They only knew that Hermione had domestic problems. None of them knew to the extent these problems went. Well, none but Harry and Ron that is.
She looked past her group. There he was. Her enemy looking right at her. Staring. She suddenly felt vulnerable. Could he see through the façade? It was impossible.wasn't it?
Out of nervous habit she ran her hand through her short, artificially red hair and started tapping her foot to a beat only she could here.
The bell rang. Time for another long day at Hogwarts High.
She separated from her friends as they entered the building. Her locker was separated from everyone else's. Automatically her fingers began fiddling with the lock. She didn't even have to think about the combination anymore. It was automatic.
As soon as she opened the door, it was slammed closed by a silver-eyed boy. He was smirking and leaning casually against his locker, which happened to be next to hers.
"What do you want, Malfoy?" she demanded in a sweet voice. He wanted her to get all worked up, but she learned that he's easier to deal with when one remains calm.
"I don't know," he answered simply. "Maybe just to piss you off. Add to everything else you have to deal with."
"And what would you know about my life?" She looked up into his eyes and held his gaze.
"More than you would care to imagine, Granger."
"I can imagine quite a bit. Why not enlighten me?" She quirked and eyebrow, her gaze still unwavering.
He shook his head. "'Cause you're not worth my time. You're just filth. You don't deserve to go to this school."
She rolled her eyes and opened her locker once more. "I've heard this all before, Malfoy. I'm dirty, filthy, undeserving of praise and friends. I shouldn't be living. My parents are-is scum. When is it gunna end? You're wise-ass remarks are becoming lame. It's been this way since we were in pre-school. Will you ever grow up?" She switched her books then closed her locker. And looked back up into his eyes once more.
"Nah, what fun would that be?"
She pushed past him and started for her first class, which she unfortunately had with him. He trailed behind her, still talking.
"What other beaver-toothed person would I have to make fun of? I mean, I would make fun of your hair, but I see that after your mum died you cut it all off. Does that have any significance?" She ignored him and stepped into the classroom. "You know, it's not that easy to get rid of me considering I sit right next to you."
"I can always just request that my seat be changed. Would you be happy then, Malfoy?"
"No, not exactly. I wouldn't have anyone to torment during Binns' boring lectures. What would I do for forty-five minutes?"
"Oh, I dunno. Here's an idea, take notes! Wow! What a concept! Did you ever even think of that? Apparently not," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
"I see that someone is in a lovely mood this morning."
Hermione chose not to respond as she looked out the window. There was no way to get rid of him. Even if she tried to ignore him, he'd say something stupid to just get her to open her mouth in retaliation.
The next bell rang. Class officially started. Professor Binns stepped up to the lectern and began his lesson on the Age of Exploration. Although bored from the start, Hermione copied notes so she would be prepared for the test. The only time she ever looked at her notes was the first day she took them, so she preferred to take good notes rather than be choppy.
A piece of paper suddenly landed on her desk. From the untidy scrawl, she knew it was Malfoy's handwriting.
*Why do you always have to be such a bitch? What if I really was concerned about your personal life and I wanted to be of assistance to you? Maybe I am truly concerned about you and just won't show that to others because of my reputation.*
Hermione frowned at the note. Yes, of course he was concerned. That's why he tormented her non-stop. She couldn't believe what an ass he was.
She tossed the note back at him and continued with her notes, not expecting him to pursue the issue any farther. As far as she was concerned, no one truly cared for her and no one ever would. Any person who acted nice to her was merely feeling pity for her because she lost her mother.
*See, this is what I'm talking about, my dear. You think that everyone hates you. I would really like to talk to you alone sometime. Why don't you meet me in the library during lunch? I promise I won't set you up or anything like that. I just want to talk. Okay?*
Hermione sighed as she read the note through. She didn't exactly want to meet him, but she didn't exactly have a choice. Harry and Ron, she knew, wouldn't be happy with her if she didn't eat lunch with them. It was always the three of them. She never needed anyone else. Why now was Draco Malfoy all of a sudden interested in her? He may be a punk, but he was popular. Everyone loved him, well with the exception of Hermione and her group of friends. He could have almost any girl he wanted. Why did he have to choose her to torment?
I don't know. I'll have to talk to Harry and Ron. I'm not really all that thrilled with having to meet you of all people alone. You really are not the number one person on my list.well actually you are. On my list of people to kill, that is.
Content with her response she threw it back at him and hit him in the side of the head. He glared at her, but she just smiled sweetly and pretended like it didn't even happen. Binns was still droning about Columbus and the Native Americans. The guy couldn't make anything exciting.
*I realize that I have been an ass to you since well the day we met, but today I won't do anything to upset you. If I do, I will let you.um smack me across the face or something. Or whatever you want. Just meet me in the library, please?*
She rolled her eyes.
She gave it back to him. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him smirk. The typical Malfoy response.
Class ended and she soon met up with her friends Kelly Yarbrock and Lana Erstad. They had been pretty good friends since the previous year when the first met. Both knew about her problems with Malfoy and when she told them what happened, they were disappointed that she actually consented.
"What was I supposed to do?" she groaned as they turned a corner.
"Um, say no?" Lana suggested as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Hermione smacked her head against the palm of her hand. "It's not that easy. He was being a damn prat and I just wanted him to shut up and leave me alone. There was nothing else I could do. Plus, it was right in the middle of class."
"Well, it could be worse," Kelly tried to comfort her friend. "At least he's good-looking."
Hermione wanted to scream. Of course Malfoy was sexy. He always had been, but that still didn't make up for the fact that he was a slimy git. She leaned up against a near-by wall that was just outside their classroom. "But he's the scum of the Earth!" she cried exasperatedly. "He cares about no one! Why the hell does he wanna meet me there? It's not like he's gunna get a make-out session like he would from some of the other shallow girls around this dump. There is absolutely nothing in it for him!"
"Did you ever stop to think that he doesn't have a motive?" Lana asked. "Maybe he truly does want to just talk or whatever you said."
"Right," Kelly snorted. "And cows can fly and birds can swim."
"It was just a suggestion," Lana defended herself.
"Thanks, guys," Hermione muttered, "but I think I oughtta just think on it myself for the next three periods. I'll catch up with you later."
"You sure, 'Mione," they said together.
"Yeah."
"Okay then, see you later," Kelly muttered.
"Yeah, later," she responded to their retreating backs as she stepped into her classroom.
The next three periods seemed to last forever. Hermione couldn't get her meeting with Malfoy off her mind. Over and over she contemplated what he truly wanted, but she could never come up with a logical explanation for it. Almost everything turned up that either he or she went psycho over the weekend.
The walk to the library seemed to take no time whatsoever. Malfoy was standing outside the door when she arrived. His baggy jeans were scraping the ground and the sleeves of his hoody were rolled up to his elbows. His hair was falling into his eyes. He looked good. Of course Hermione would never admit that even to herself.
"Surprised you showed," Malfoy said with his trademark smirk.
"Yeah, whatever. What do you want?" she snapped.
"We're not gunna talk in the middle of the hallway. I may be crazy, but I'm not psycho."
Hermione rolled her eyes and followed him to the back, secluded corner of the library. No one else was sitting there, and for a good reason. There was dust everywhere as well as cobwebs. It was obvious that no one had been there in years.
"I like your choice of spots, Malfoy. Very nice. I applaud you," she said sarcastically as she sat down at the dusty table.
He sat down across from her. "I didn't tell you to come here so you could make stupid remarks," he stated with a hint of anger in his voice.
"That's nice. So, pray tell, why did you invite me here to this utterly charming destination of yours?"
"So we can talk."
"Well, your highness, what do you want to know? There are places I'd rather be than here with you."
He shifted in his seat a little almost as if he were regretting ever suggesting the idea in the first place. "First of all, gimme your left hand."
Hermione slowly slid her hand across the table and hesitantly placed it in Malfoy's. In one swift motion, before she could realize what he was doing, he pushed her sleeve up her arm. "Thought so," he muttered.
Hermione yanked her arm away from him. "What the hell was that all about?"
"Why?" he retorted.
"Why what?"
"Why do you do it? Why do you inflict pain upon yourself like that?"
It was Hermione's turn to shift in an uncomfortable manner. "I do not wish to discuss my habits, good or bad, with you," she answered smoothly.
"Well that's just tough luck then because I will not let you leave until you answer me why." He stared intently into her eyes almost as if he were trying to see down to her soul. It would have been easier if he could, but that seemed impossible since her eyes were blank, stoic.
"You'll be waiting here a long time then. I do not wish to discuss anything with you. Good day."
She stood to leave, but Malfoy was quicker. He strode over to her and shoved her back down in the chair. Anger was flowing through her veins. It took all of her strength not to punch him in the face.
"I don't think so, Granger. Not till you answer me."
"Fine. It's the only way I know how to deal with it."
"With what?"
"Everything," she responded softly.
Malfoy was utterly confused by now. "What do you mean by everything?"
"My life, Malfoy. It's not all tea and crumpets all the time."
"I know how it feels to lose someone you're close to," he said in a whisper. "My mother died to in the same fire that killed yours."
Hermione's eyes widened in shock. She had no idea. "Oh, I didn't know that. I'm sorry."
"Not your fault." He dismissed her comment with the wave of his hand. "I know things aren't easy after something like that, but you can't resort to cutting yourself. It doesn't help. I would know. It gets addicting. Like a drug. It's hard to stop."
"Y-you mean.you cut too?"
"I did. That is until I realized that it got me nowhere. I'm really not like this at home. I don't talk to my father unless spoken to. I can't do anything without his permission. Basically all I do is sit in my room and listen to music all day."
Hermione nodded. She definitely knew what he was feeling. "I do the same thing. Only, my father lets my brothers beat me up. They leave bruises. I don't cry, so they just punch harder. It's how they deal with their pain. I'm their punching bag."
Draco placed a hand on her back and rubbed it gently. He knew she needed someone to talk to. He needed someone to talk to and she knew what he was feeling. His other friends couldn't help him. They couldn't help themselves.
Hermione was close to tears, but she would never let herself cry in front of Malfoy, even if he did know what she felt. She looked up at him. He didn't look so badass when he was away from his cronies. His eyes were warmer and he could open up. Maybe he wasn't so bad after all. Maybe.
She looked at the silver blade as she contemplated running it over her already scarred wrist. It started months ago and she couldn't seem to cease this rash activity. The blade is cool against her flawed skin. She pressed down roughly but didn't drag it; not yet. She thought ^What am I doing this for? Why do I put up with the pain of this when I can just end it all now? There are other ways I can go around this.^ She sighed. No, not death. Not yet. With a swift movement she made another slash. Then another just for the hell of it.
Blood. Her blood, running down her pale skin. Beautiful, red, flowing. She loved it. It took her to another planet. Her own alter world where everything was perfect. Yeah right, a perfect world. It doesn't exist.
She brought her wrist to her mouth and sucked the blood that was flowing freely. The taste of her blood took her to new places. She didn't know what her passion for blood was, but there was something.
Sleep. It over-took her body after every time she bled. Maybe it was the drain of what she needed to survive. Her eyes drifted closed. Her hand fell limply by her side, the knife falling from her grasp. Dreams. They flooded her mind night after night. That dream. Those eyes. That hair. Always the same. Always haunting. What could it mean?
XXXDreamXXX
She walked along the silent corridor. Her mortal enemy awaiting her arrival at the other end. Silver-blonde haired, grey-eyed, arrogant. That was he. He took her hand in his and rolled up the sleeve of her large hoody. A long, pale finger traced the new scars. He brought her wrist to his lips and planted butterfly kisses along her scars. She tried to pull away, but his other arm snaked around her waist and pulled her closer to him.
"Going so fast, love?" he questioned. "What, don't want to stay?" His voice tormented her. His eyes filled with sarcasm.
"Let me go," she hissed.
"Oh, but where would you go? Back to that house? To where you don't belong? You could be here, with me."
"I wouldn't go with you if you were the last man on Earth. I'd rather take my chances at home than with you and your.do you call that a family?"
He glared at her. "And what do you call the scoundrels you live with?"
She held her glare. Never show weakness. It was the one rule she made for herself. "Do not ever talk about my family. You know nothing about it. You do not know what I have been through."
"Oh, but I do, my dear. I know all too well." He leaned closer to her and nibbled on her ear. "Would you like me to tell you all I know?" he whispered.
"No," she breathed breathlessly. "I don't want to know." Her eyes closed as she turned her head slightly and caught his lips in hers. "Just make me forget. Make me forget everything."
He kissed her again. Rough and deep. Filled with lust as well as passion. He began to run his hands along her body.
XXXEnd DreamXXX
Her eyes snapped open. She groaned inwardly and buried her face in her pillow. It was the same every night. Sleep was never something she could come by. He haunted her. Every day he taunted her. Why then did he fill her dreams? What does he know?
The clock read 3:54 am. For hours she sat and stared out her window. Hours contemplating how to dress for school the next day. Hours coming up with snide remarks that might help her defend herself against him. Hours trying to figure out the best way to flee her home.
At 5:45 she rose from her bed and dressed (she showered the night before). By five-to-six she was ready for the hell that awaited her.
"Bitch, get down here now!" a male voice screamed.
She trudged down the stairs. Another great wake up call from the man who called himself her father.
Ever since her mother died the year before, life had gone downhill for Hermione Granger. Her father had become abusive. Her brothers beat her up without so much a scolding from their "father." At school she was able to put up a façade around her. No one knew anything was wrong. Faked smiled, false happiness, unnatural giddiness from drinking too much coffee in the mornings before departing for her high school. She could do it all.
"Yes, Father," she mumbled as she stood before him.
"Breakfast before I go to work," he demanded not shifting his gaze from the T.V. that was replaying clips from all the sports games and races from the previous day.
She rolled her eyes. "You're unemployed. Make your own damn breakfast. I got a bus to catch." Grabbing her book bag off the floor, she stormed out the door and slammed it behind her.
She strolled down to the street corner where she met up with her two best friends, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. Her breath was visible in the cool winter air. They were the only two people who really knew what went on in her life. She greeted them both with a hug.
"'Morning boys," she muttered with a faked smile. "I don't know how you put up with me everyday."
"'Cause we're your best friends, 'Mione," Harry responded while looking at her sympathetically. "You know that we will always be here for you."
"Yeah, even if it is 20 below zero," Ron chimed in.
"Thanks," she said as she lit a cigarette.
Harry and Ron exchanged glances as they continued the long walk toward their school. They preferred walking to taking the bus, so they always left early so they would arrive on time.
"Why do you insist on doing that?" Ron asked. "It's bad for your health."
Hermione sighed as she took a long drag. "Because it relaxes me."
Harry shook his head at Ron. A signal to not pursue the issue.
The bitter air cut through their skin, chilling them to the bone. Harry kept rubbing his gloved hands to his cheeks while Ron folded his arms tightly across his chest. Both bent their heads down against the wind.
The only one who didn't seem to mind was Hermione. All she wore was a black hoody with a flaming skull printed on to it and baggy jeans. Her fingers were un-gloved and she wore no form of protection on her head. She walked with her head up, seemingly unaffected by the biting air.
The school was could be seen by now. Harry and Ron were grateful, but Hermione was a bit downtrodden. She hated going to that place every single day. She hated the teachers, her classmates, the principals, even the janitors were on her shit list. They all thought she was smart, a bookworm, the person that would tutor them if ever they were having trouble. Just because she received good grades didn't mean she studied. In fact, she only ever opened her books to do her homework when at home.
Groups were already forming in the courtyard. The jocks in one corner, preps in another, the skaters and punks grouped together, the wannabe skaters, the nerds, the gangs. They were all there.
Hermione, Harry, and Ron found their group. It consisted of mostly skaters and punks, but they chose not to associate with the others. It was a group of outcasts. The ones who were truly different. The ones who didn't want to belong. They were always there for each other to rely, this group of about ten or so. No backstabbing occurred, no lies or deceit, nothing that would hurt any other member. It was just.them.
Hermione greeted her friends with her faked smile. They all believed it to be real. They only knew that Hermione had domestic problems. None of them knew to the extent these problems went. Well, none but Harry and Ron that is.
She looked past her group. There he was. Her enemy looking right at her. Staring. She suddenly felt vulnerable. Could he see through the façade? It was impossible.wasn't it?
Out of nervous habit she ran her hand through her short, artificially red hair and started tapping her foot to a beat only she could here.
The bell rang. Time for another long day at Hogwarts High.
She separated from her friends as they entered the building. Her locker was separated from everyone else's. Automatically her fingers began fiddling with the lock. She didn't even have to think about the combination anymore. It was automatic.
As soon as she opened the door, it was slammed closed by a silver-eyed boy. He was smirking and leaning casually against his locker, which happened to be next to hers.
"What do you want, Malfoy?" she demanded in a sweet voice. He wanted her to get all worked up, but she learned that he's easier to deal with when one remains calm.
"I don't know," he answered simply. "Maybe just to piss you off. Add to everything else you have to deal with."
"And what would you know about my life?" She looked up into his eyes and held his gaze.
"More than you would care to imagine, Granger."
"I can imagine quite a bit. Why not enlighten me?" She quirked and eyebrow, her gaze still unwavering.
He shook his head. "'Cause you're not worth my time. You're just filth. You don't deserve to go to this school."
She rolled her eyes and opened her locker once more. "I've heard this all before, Malfoy. I'm dirty, filthy, undeserving of praise and friends. I shouldn't be living. My parents are-is scum. When is it gunna end? You're wise-ass remarks are becoming lame. It's been this way since we were in pre-school. Will you ever grow up?" She switched her books then closed her locker. And looked back up into his eyes once more.
"Nah, what fun would that be?"
She pushed past him and started for her first class, which she unfortunately had with him. He trailed behind her, still talking.
"What other beaver-toothed person would I have to make fun of? I mean, I would make fun of your hair, but I see that after your mum died you cut it all off. Does that have any significance?" She ignored him and stepped into the classroom. "You know, it's not that easy to get rid of me considering I sit right next to you."
"I can always just request that my seat be changed. Would you be happy then, Malfoy?"
"No, not exactly. I wouldn't have anyone to torment during Binns' boring lectures. What would I do for forty-five minutes?"
"Oh, I dunno. Here's an idea, take notes! Wow! What a concept! Did you ever even think of that? Apparently not," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
"I see that someone is in a lovely mood this morning."
Hermione chose not to respond as she looked out the window. There was no way to get rid of him. Even if she tried to ignore him, he'd say something stupid to just get her to open her mouth in retaliation.
The next bell rang. Class officially started. Professor Binns stepped up to the lectern and began his lesson on the Age of Exploration. Although bored from the start, Hermione copied notes so she would be prepared for the test. The only time she ever looked at her notes was the first day she took them, so she preferred to take good notes rather than be choppy.
A piece of paper suddenly landed on her desk. From the untidy scrawl, she knew it was Malfoy's handwriting.
*Why do you always have to be such a bitch? What if I really was concerned about your personal life and I wanted to be of assistance to you? Maybe I am truly concerned about you and just won't show that to others because of my reputation.*
Hermione frowned at the note. Yes, of course he was concerned. That's why he tormented her non-stop. She couldn't believe what an ass he was.
She tossed the note back at him and continued with her notes, not expecting him to pursue the issue any farther. As far as she was concerned, no one truly cared for her and no one ever would. Any person who acted nice to her was merely feeling pity for her because she lost her mother.
*See, this is what I'm talking about, my dear. You think that everyone hates you. I would really like to talk to you alone sometime. Why don't you meet me in the library during lunch? I promise I won't set you up or anything like that. I just want to talk. Okay?*
Hermione sighed as she read the note through. She didn't exactly want to meet him, but she didn't exactly have a choice. Harry and Ron, she knew, wouldn't be happy with her if she didn't eat lunch with them. It was always the three of them. She never needed anyone else. Why now was Draco Malfoy all of a sudden interested in her? He may be a punk, but he was popular. Everyone loved him, well with the exception of Hermione and her group of friends. He could have almost any girl he wanted. Why did he have to choose her to torment?
I don't know. I'll have to talk to Harry and Ron. I'm not really all that thrilled with having to meet you of all people alone. You really are not the number one person on my list.well actually you are. On my list of people to kill, that is.
Content with her response she threw it back at him and hit him in the side of the head. He glared at her, but she just smiled sweetly and pretended like it didn't even happen. Binns was still droning about Columbus and the Native Americans. The guy couldn't make anything exciting.
*I realize that I have been an ass to you since well the day we met, but today I won't do anything to upset you. If I do, I will let you.um smack me across the face or something. Or whatever you want. Just meet me in the library, please?*
She rolled her eyes.
She gave it back to him. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him smirk. The typical Malfoy response.
Class ended and she soon met up with her friends Kelly Yarbrock and Lana Erstad. They had been pretty good friends since the previous year when the first met. Both knew about her problems with Malfoy and when she told them what happened, they were disappointed that she actually consented.
"What was I supposed to do?" she groaned as they turned a corner.
"Um, say no?" Lana suggested as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Hermione smacked her head against the palm of her hand. "It's not that easy. He was being a damn prat and I just wanted him to shut up and leave me alone. There was nothing else I could do. Plus, it was right in the middle of class."
"Well, it could be worse," Kelly tried to comfort her friend. "At least he's good-looking."
Hermione wanted to scream. Of course Malfoy was sexy. He always had been, but that still didn't make up for the fact that he was a slimy git. She leaned up against a near-by wall that was just outside their classroom. "But he's the scum of the Earth!" she cried exasperatedly. "He cares about no one! Why the hell does he wanna meet me there? It's not like he's gunna get a make-out session like he would from some of the other shallow girls around this dump. There is absolutely nothing in it for him!"
"Did you ever stop to think that he doesn't have a motive?" Lana asked. "Maybe he truly does want to just talk or whatever you said."
"Right," Kelly snorted. "And cows can fly and birds can swim."
"It was just a suggestion," Lana defended herself.
"Thanks, guys," Hermione muttered, "but I think I oughtta just think on it myself for the next three periods. I'll catch up with you later."
"You sure, 'Mione," they said together.
"Yeah."
"Okay then, see you later," Kelly muttered.
"Yeah, later," she responded to their retreating backs as she stepped into her classroom.
The next three periods seemed to last forever. Hermione couldn't get her meeting with Malfoy off her mind. Over and over she contemplated what he truly wanted, but she could never come up with a logical explanation for it. Almost everything turned up that either he or she went psycho over the weekend.
The walk to the library seemed to take no time whatsoever. Malfoy was standing outside the door when she arrived. His baggy jeans were scraping the ground and the sleeves of his hoody were rolled up to his elbows. His hair was falling into his eyes. He looked good. Of course Hermione would never admit that even to herself.
"Surprised you showed," Malfoy said with his trademark smirk.
"Yeah, whatever. What do you want?" she snapped.
"We're not gunna talk in the middle of the hallway. I may be crazy, but I'm not psycho."
Hermione rolled her eyes and followed him to the back, secluded corner of the library. No one else was sitting there, and for a good reason. There was dust everywhere as well as cobwebs. It was obvious that no one had been there in years.
"I like your choice of spots, Malfoy. Very nice. I applaud you," she said sarcastically as she sat down at the dusty table.
He sat down across from her. "I didn't tell you to come here so you could make stupid remarks," he stated with a hint of anger in his voice.
"That's nice. So, pray tell, why did you invite me here to this utterly charming destination of yours?"
"So we can talk."
"Well, your highness, what do you want to know? There are places I'd rather be than here with you."
He shifted in his seat a little almost as if he were regretting ever suggesting the idea in the first place. "First of all, gimme your left hand."
Hermione slowly slid her hand across the table and hesitantly placed it in Malfoy's. In one swift motion, before she could realize what he was doing, he pushed her sleeve up her arm. "Thought so," he muttered.
Hermione yanked her arm away from him. "What the hell was that all about?"
"Why?" he retorted.
"Why what?"
"Why do you do it? Why do you inflict pain upon yourself like that?"
It was Hermione's turn to shift in an uncomfortable manner. "I do not wish to discuss my habits, good or bad, with you," she answered smoothly.
"Well that's just tough luck then because I will not let you leave until you answer me why." He stared intently into her eyes almost as if he were trying to see down to her soul. It would have been easier if he could, but that seemed impossible since her eyes were blank, stoic.
"You'll be waiting here a long time then. I do not wish to discuss anything with you. Good day."
She stood to leave, but Malfoy was quicker. He strode over to her and shoved her back down in the chair. Anger was flowing through her veins. It took all of her strength not to punch him in the face.
"I don't think so, Granger. Not till you answer me."
"Fine. It's the only way I know how to deal with it."
"With what?"
"Everything," she responded softly.
Malfoy was utterly confused by now. "What do you mean by everything?"
"My life, Malfoy. It's not all tea and crumpets all the time."
"I know how it feels to lose someone you're close to," he said in a whisper. "My mother died to in the same fire that killed yours."
Hermione's eyes widened in shock. She had no idea. "Oh, I didn't know that. I'm sorry."
"Not your fault." He dismissed her comment with the wave of his hand. "I know things aren't easy after something like that, but you can't resort to cutting yourself. It doesn't help. I would know. It gets addicting. Like a drug. It's hard to stop."
"Y-you mean.you cut too?"
"I did. That is until I realized that it got me nowhere. I'm really not like this at home. I don't talk to my father unless spoken to. I can't do anything without his permission. Basically all I do is sit in my room and listen to music all day."
Hermione nodded. She definitely knew what he was feeling. "I do the same thing. Only, my father lets my brothers beat me up. They leave bruises. I don't cry, so they just punch harder. It's how they deal with their pain. I'm their punching bag."
Draco placed a hand on her back and rubbed it gently. He knew she needed someone to talk to. He needed someone to talk to and she knew what he was feeling. His other friends couldn't help him. They couldn't help themselves.
Hermione was close to tears, but she would never let herself cry in front of Malfoy, even if he did know what she felt. She looked up at him. He didn't look so badass when he was away from his cronies. His eyes were warmer and he could open up. Maybe he wasn't so bad after all. Maybe.