Thought I'd mention it again. JK Rowling owns everything but the plot, which is all mine! Um, I really think this story sucks a lot. Oh well, I like it. Yeah.
================================================
Harry and Ron looked around the Potions classroom. Hermione was no where in sight. Since she had run off, there was no sign off her. Snape had arrived in time to see Harry and Ron running up the corridor, not knowing why, but none the less had stopped them with a smile on his face. Never, not even once had she missed a class, even something as vile as Potions. Snape did not even question where Hermione was. His eyes swept over her desk without emotion and without a crease in his greasy forehead. He did, however, look at Draco, whose face was facing down towards the desk. He looked sad about something. Harry shrugged. Hermione wasn't coming to Potions, he had decided.
Draco looked down at his desk. His buddies were teasing him about 'being threatened by a Mudblood', yet Draco thought this was not funny. He knew he had hurt Hermione, and he knew that by doing so he had ruined ANY chance of being with her. Draco shook his head. What was he thinking? Hermione was a Mudblood, not worthy of living in his father's eyes. And Draco knew that if he even admitted to liking Hermione, he was risking everything. But why should he? Just because of his background he wasn't allowed to like whom he wished? Draco knew this was bullshit. All he wanted was to be happy. In a relationship where everything was perfect, and where he felt happy and loved. After all, he had a lot to find out because his parent's relationship was not exactly a good guide to follow.
Draco sighed. His fists were clenched in an un-realistic attempt to stop himself from hitting out at anybody, anything. Violence ran in his blood, and although he would never bring himself to hitting a woman like his father did, he would use violence as a weapon. Draco looked up. He caught Ron glaring at him with hatred in his eyes.
'Yeah, mate,' Draco thought. 'I'd be mad if I were you.' He looked down again. 'God, what have I done?'
===============================================
Hermione ran. She didn't care where she was running to, but she just ran. And it so happened she ran to her place. Her sanctuary. The place where she could just unwind and relax. Or cry her heart out.
"Draconis Amour," She muttered, and the secret, hidden door swung open. She threw herself down on the mound of pillows, her school bag flung to the side, stopping the door from closing fully.
Her shoulders heaved, her tears falling freely down her pretty face. The tears felt like they were boring into her skin, creating a maze of deep ravines that her pain was stored in. Still shaking, she hauled herself over to the cabinet, and pulled out a bottle of vodka. It was two thirds full, but by the end of the day, it would be only one third full.
She took the shot glass from the shelf and tried to pour herself one, but the glass slipped and shattered on the wood floor. Hermione cursed herself for not placing pillows everywhere. She took a deep swig from the bottle, and felt her hand slip off her leg.
It was a few seconds before she felt the pain shooting down her arm. Looking down, she saw crimson blood trickling from her palm and as she held it up, it trickled further down her wrist. It didn't scare her. The pain seemed like a release and the blood that flowed was her anger draining away. She watched the blood for a few minutes before realizing what she was doing.
She wrapped her handkerchief around her hand, wiped the blood up and swept the glass into the bin. She took the vodka and drank more, feeling it slipping down her throat and into her insides. She giggled, falling into her world of silliness and freedom. No one was there to tell her what to do and how to act. Here, she could dream freely of Draco and imagine what it would be like in her world. She yawned and her eyes felt heavy and she felt herself slip into a deep sleep.
================================================
Potions finished. The rest of the day slipped by without any sign of Hermione. Ron and Harry were worried. They both knew Hermione was not the type of person to do herself harm, but they also knew she took things to heart. And Draco had far from insulted her. He had wounded her deeply, but not in a way that Harry and Ron knew.
Draco also knew he had wounded Hermione. He had also wounded part of himself. Having slouched around all day, Draco was ready for a walk. He needed to un-wind, let his tensions go. He stumbled up to the Prefect's room, and encountered a table. Pain shot through his leg. He lifted his robes to review the damage. His fingers ran over his thighs. Thick, long welts covered his legs and although they were healed, Draco felt his wounds were still weeping. His pain was flowing freely from the scars, scars his father had impaled onto his skin.
A noise from the doorway startled him. He looked up to see Paige peering at him. He quickly pulled his robes over his legs, and coughed.
"I….I'm going out," He mumbled. He stalked from the room, Paige staring after him.
Draco walked away from the Prefect's room. He walked and walked, wanting a release from the world. And that was how he came across the doorway.
==============================================
A/N – Yes, Hermione does drink alcohol, and no, Hermione does not cut herself. That was an accident. Clear, m'dears?? And please R&R!! Love always!!
================================================
Harry and Ron looked around the Potions classroom. Hermione was no where in sight. Since she had run off, there was no sign off her. Snape had arrived in time to see Harry and Ron running up the corridor, not knowing why, but none the less had stopped them with a smile on his face. Never, not even once had she missed a class, even something as vile as Potions. Snape did not even question where Hermione was. His eyes swept over her desk without emotion and without a crease in his greasy forehead. He did, however, look at Draco, whose face was facing down towards the desk. He looked sad about something. Harry shrugged. Hermione wasn't coming to Potions, he had decided.
Draco looked down at his desk. His buddies were teasing him about 'being threatened by a Mudblood', yet Draco thought this was not funny. He knew he had hurt Hermione, and he knew that by doing so he had ruined ANY chance of being with her. Draco shook his head. What was he thinking? Hermione was a Mudblood, not worthy of living in his father's eyes. And Draco knew that if he even admitted to liking Hermione, he was risking everything. But why should he? Just because of his background he wasn't allowed to like whom he wished? Draco knew this was bullshit. All he wanted was to be happy. In a relationship where everything was perfect, and where he felt happy and loved. After all, he had a lot to find out because his parent's relationship was not exactly a good guide to follow.
Draco sighed. His fists were clenched in an un-realistic attempt to stop himself from hitting out at anybody, anything. Violence ran in his blood, and although he would never bring himself to hitting a woman like his father did, he would use violence as a weapon. Draco looked up. He caught Ron glaring at him with hatred in his eyes.
'Yeah, mate,' Draco thought. 'I'd be mad if I were you.' He looked down again. 'God, what have I done?'
===============================================
Hermione ran. She didn't care where she was running to, but she just ran. And it so happened she ran to her place. Her sanctuary. The place where she could just unwind and relax. Or cry her heart out.
"Draconis Amour," She muttered, and the secret, hidden door swung open. She threw herself down on the mound of pillows, her school bag flung to the side, stopping the door from closing fully.
Her shoulders heaved, her tears falling freely down her pretty face. The tears felt like they were boring into her skin, creating a maze of deep ravines that her pain was stored in. Still shaking, she hauled herself over to the cabinet, and pulled out a bottle of vodka. It was two thirds full, but by the end of the day, it would be only one third full.
She took the shot glass from the shelf and tried to pour herself one, but the glass slipped and shattered on the wood floor. Hermione cursed herself for not placing pillows everywhere. She took a deep swig from the bottle, and felt her hand slip off her leg.
It was a few seconds before she felt the pain shooting down her arm. Looking down, she saw crimson blood trickling from her palm and as she held it up, it trickled further down her wrist. It didn't scare her. The pain seemed like a release and the blood that flowed was her anger draining away. She watched the blood for a few minutes before realizing what she was doing.
She wrapped her handkerchief around her hand, wiped the blood up and swept the glass into the bin. She took the vodka and drank more, feeling it slipping down her throat and into her insides. She giggled, falling into her world of silliness and freedom. No one was there to tell her what to do and how to act. Here, she could dream freely of Draco and imagine what it would be like in her world. She yawned and her eyes felt heavy and she felt herself slip into a deep sleep.
================================================
Potions finished. The rest of the day slipped by without any sign of Hermione. Ron and Harry were worried. They both knew Hermione was not the type of person to do herself harm, but they also knew she took things to heart. And Draco had far from insulted her. He had wounded her deeply, but not in a way that Harry and Ron knew.
Draco also knew he had wounded Hermione. He had also wounded part of himself. Having slouched around all day, Draco was ready for a walk. He needed to un-wind, let his tensions go. He stumbled up to the Prefect's room, and encountered a table. Pain shot through his leg. He lifted his robes to review the damage. His fingers ran over his thighs. Thick, long welts covered his legs and although they were healed, Draco felt his wounds were still weeping. His pain was flowing freely from the scars, scars his father had impaled onto his skin.
A noise from the doorway startled him. He looked up to see Paige peering at him. He quickly pulled his robes over his legs, and coughed.
"I….I'm going out," He mumbled. He stalked from the room, Paige staring after him.
Draco walked away from the Prefect's room. He walked and walked, wanting a release from the world. And that was how he came across the doorway.
==============================================
A/N – Yes, Hermione does drink alcohol, and no, Hermione does not cut herself. That was an accident. Clear, m'dears?? And please R&R!! Love always!!