Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, they all belong to J. K. Rowling.
**~FAÇADE~**
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##Secrets##
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Dear Diary,
I'm so tired. I want to close my eyes and sleep forever, I want to never wake up again. But I haven't slept in so long. Sleep did not come again last night. Every time my eyes close I see horrible things, things I don't want to remember. I wish I could forget. Close my eyes and live in a dream, where things make sense. Lord knows nothing makes sense any more. A tear fell and splattered onto the page. At least I don't have to be home any more. But how can I be with my friends, after everything that has happened? How can I look them in the eye and be the same girl they all knew? I can't, I can't tell them what happened they would never understand. They wouldn't. I can't talk to anyone. I wish I could it hurts so much to have no one. But I don't; I'm alone. Completely alone. Another tear fell and desecrated the paper. I wish someone knew, some one who would understand. Someone. I feel so lost. I wish the world would slow down, it's going too fast I want to jump off. I can't handle it anymore. I'm so tired.
Hermione trailed off here and gently closed the small book. This book was very dear to her; it was the only place she could put her true feelings. She looked out the window and watched all the trees that sped past for a moment. Then she laid the book on the seat next to her on top on a couple of her school books. Pulling out Hogwarts, A History, she began to flip through to the most interesting parts. She was in a compartment by herself, she couldn't face her two best friends just yet. Somehow the fact that she was getting away from home should have excited her more. However, the fact that she was going to have to pretend that nothing had happened and that she was perfectly fine was what bothered her. There was no way she could tell her friends about that summer, but it was so hard to forget.
Her thoughts were presently interrupted by the door of her compartment sliding open. "Hello Mudblood! Where are your two boyfriends?"
"Stuff it Ferret Boy!"
"Mmm…Feisty aren't we?" He crossed the compartment to sit across form her. He was planning on taking advantage of her irritable mood and lack of associates for the moment. Seeing the cross look on her face he said, "You don't mind if I sit here, do you?"
"Not at all," she said through clenched teeth and threw her books into her bag. Slamming the bag over her shoulder she stormed out of the compartment.
'Apparently she's not in the mood to have some fun.' Malfoy thought to himself. He was about to go and follow her to taunt her some more when he noticed a small book lying on the floor. He picked it up and realized what it was. 'Dear Diary, Help! I can't decide which one I like better, Potty or the Weasel.' Draco let out a long laugh. 'This aught to be good!' He put the book in a pocket on the inside of his robes to save it for a time when her was really bored and could use a good laugh. He left the compartment, least Granger figure out what she was missing.
But Hermione did not figure out what she was missing. She had stormed into the bathroom of the train and locked herself in. No one would bother her here, especially stupid gits like Malfoy. She leaned against the wall and then slumped onto the floor and put her head on her knees. Memories of summer flooded her mind, painful memories.
It all started at the end of last year. Her sixth year had actually been quite enjoyable, probably because there wasn't a huge exam at the end like their fifth year. But something happened a month before school that made the end of the year unbearable. She received a letter that her mother had been fighting cancer all year and was not going to make it. Originally, her parents had agreed not tell her because they thought that she would get better and Hermione wouldn't have to worry. But alas, the cancer had been found too late and none of the treatments helped.
Hermione spent a week in the hospital with her mother, but it was all too painful and her mother could tell. Her mom said that Hermione was missing too much school and that she must be sent back. Secretly, Hermione was grateful, but her mother didn't last until the summer.
When Hermione got off the Hogwarts Express that summer, there was no one there to meet her. She waited three hours before calling a cab and going home alone. There was no one home either; it all seemed very strange until her father staggered through the door drunk: her father had taken up drinking to cope with his wife's death. He did not recognize Hermione at first, and thinking her a stranger he attacked her for being in his house. Then when he finally realized who she was couldn't figure out why she was home. When she told him she was home for the summer, he swore loudly. Hermione feeling very unwanted and slightly painful from her father's mistake ran up to her room.
Things only got worse from there on out. Her father began treating her like a slave and resorted to violence when she did not work fast enough. He was never to be seen with out a beer bottle in his hand and Hermione was never to be seen without bruises all over her slender body. She had time to tend to her injuries only when her father was out drinking. He had gotten fired from his job for never showing up on time and when he did show up, being intoxicated. Hermione began to hate her home and wishing she could go somewhere else. Her father forbid her to send any owls though, and he never let her go out and see her old friends. Things were horrible.
Just when Hermione thought things couldn't get worse, the situation proved her wrong. She was sweeping the floor in the living room where her father was sitting on the sofa and watching TV. Hermione realized soon however that her was staring at her. She was only a few feet from the sofa, and her father reached out and caught her wrist.
"Do you realize how much like your mother you look?" he asked staring at her with a look that was incomprehensible to Hermione. With a sudden movement he got up and dragged Hermione up the stairs. From that moment she hated everything more than she could stand. She hated her life, her father, herself. She didn't deserve this she couldn't! Each day her father grew more violent and eventually came to blame Hermione any time there was a problem and by the end of the summer, she had been bruised so badly, she thought that she would never heal.
It was during the summer that she started to keep a diary. It was her only release, and she very much needed it. She couldn't have lived without it; she would have perished. How many times had she been so close to the edge that she held a blade to the skin on the inside of her arm? Too many to count. But she never took the easy way out, even if it meant a fate worse than death. She knew her seventh year was coming up and after that she could live on her own, and never return to that abominable house of her father. But, now she wasn't so sure that she could cape with the memories. Why was life so hard? It wouldn't be so bed, if there was someone she could tell, but there was not one.
She felt the train jerk to a stop, and she collected herself and got off the floor. She was going to have to face the world wasn't she?
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So what do you think? I'd like to know. This fic seemed like a good idea in my head, but I'm not sure how its working out, and if I don't get any reviews, I'm going to take that as a sign that it sux and I shouldn't continue. And if it does, please (gently) let me know. Do I write more? Let me know. Until we meet again.
~Atiannala