Hermione

Fade up and it's two days later. I meet Price in the library as we both have a project due for Professor Snape, one of Hogwart's finer members of the faculty. I find Price at the far end of the library. He holds a sleek crow's feather quill as if writing and yet, his parchment is blank. I try to think of a metaphor that relates this to Price's life, but it's easier to think of the members of The Weird Sisters naked and willing instead. Not that I would want to. Price notices my arrival and shoots me a dazzling smile. I am somewhat jealous of his teeth and bone structure, but I'd never tell him that. I seat myself next to him and take the stuff I need out of my satchel. Along the edge of my satchel, I notice that I have written something in someone's blood. I must have done it last night.

Fuck me, I'm all out of enemies!

I make a mental note to hide this before a teacher notices and shove the satchel under our table.

"So, what took you so long Bateman?" Price asks

"Sorry Price," I sigh, "I was reading my mail."

"Anything interesting?"

"I got a letter from Sean."

"How is the little STD?"

"Living it up in Durmstrung by the looks of it. He's been fucking some girl called Lauren for two months. He also makes of a note of the fact that some guy named Paul keeps following him around."

"Oh please," Price laughs "He's probably banging him as well. He really is quite a faggoty sonuvabitch."

"Are you calling my mother a bitch, Price?"

"I'm calling your mother a slut, Bateman."

"Touché."

For the next hour, Price and I make an effort to study. It annoys me that my father chose to send Sean to Durmstrung while I was sent to Hogwarts, but I feel if I can get grades that Sean could never beat then my seven years here will be justified. After the hour has past I begin to find myself restless and so I quench my ennui by trying to set fire to my textbook with a muggle lighter I bought in New York before I was shipped off here. Before I can make a successful attempt, my attention is taken by the three people who have walked into our arena of study. Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, who is very much in love with me. Price notices their arrival as well and slides closer to my side. I can smell an aftershave on his body that I cannot place. I do know that it is not expensive.

"Well, if it isn't Bateman's girlfriend, Hermione Granger." he whispers,

"Oh come on, Price," I say "For a start, she's only fifteen..."

"And you're only eighteen. Christ, Bateman, it's not like I'm asking you to fuck a ten

year old..."

"Must everything boil down to sex with you, Timothy!" I almost shout,

"Well pardon me all to hell," Price says defensively, "No need to get an embolism about it, Patrick. I just thought you liked her that's all. Look, I'll catch you later. Let you cool off."

With that he packs up his things and leaves. Once he has gone I watch Hermione sat at her table with Weasley and Potter. They are discussing something in depth and a wave of terror rolls over me as I begin to think it's about me. I become very aware of my hair and my desire for a mirror is unbearable. After a while, Hermione walks over to my table. She stands in front of me, but faces a bookcase. She stretches her right arm to the top shelf and runs a delicate, pale index finger across the spines until she reaches the one she wants. She tries to grab it, but even on her tip toes she can't quite make it. I come from behind my table and make my way to her. I grab the book of the shelf and hold it out to her.

"Is the one you want?" I smile

She looks up to me with these huge clear eyes and I suddenly have the urge to find out what they would feel like in my hands. However, I push this thought to the back of my head.

"Thank you." she says taking the book.

"My pleasure. You're Hermione Granger, aren't you?"

"Urm, yes. You are?"

She doesn't know who I am. The concept seems foreign to me and I begin to panic that it's my hair that's making me look different.

"My name is Patrick Bateman."

"Oh yes, hello. Sorry, my head is awash with things today. Didn't you use to be friends with John Noonan before he disappeared."

"Yes, I was. His lost was a tragedy to us all. If I'm to be honest I wept for days."

Yes, I wept. Wept that I slit his jugular before I did anything to his body.

"I'm sorry to hear that. However, it is nice to hear someone from Slytherin share their feelings."

"Well, not everyone is like Draco Malfoy." I laugh

"A good thing too."

Suddenly, we both go quiet. I've run out of things to say. A brick replaces my Adam's apple and I struggle to create saliva in my mouth. The whole time I envision my hair making my head look like a giant rat. She's looking up at me waiting for me to say something.

"Do... Would you like to accompany me to Hogsmeade tomorrow?" I splutter out,

Hermione's eyes widen and she clutches the book I handed her tight to her bosom.

"Well, urm, that would be nice, but..."

There's a but?

"But?"

"It wouldn't be wise, would it? I'm from Gryffindor and you're Slytherin. I just don't think it would go down well with either party's friends."

I nod in agreement. My head rises and falls, but I can't say anything. Maybe she thought I would hurt her. I could have guaranteed she would have come home in piece. Ungrateful BITCH!

"Fine." I say hoarsely, "Fine. You're right. You're very right."

"Oh I hope I've not hurt your feelings."

"No. No. No no no no. I have to go now. I have to go do something else."

With as much dignity as I can muster I leave the library. Two hours later I come back for my satchel.

Flash forward and it's the weekend. It's half eleven and I'm leaving the public house I've spent the last five hours in. I decide to walk down a couple of alleys to get back to Hogwarts. This way I'm less likely to bump into anyone I know. In particular Hermione. As make my way down the first alley, I find my sense of smell is being raped. About two steps in front of me sits a pathetic example of a woman. Her robes are encrusted with dirt and urine. She looks about forty, but she's probably only thirty. I hold my breath and try to walk past her.

"'Scuse me mister." the woman says "Can I trouble you for some money? I really need some food and the pub shuts in ten minutes."

"And you expect me to pay for your meal?" I say

"No, you don't 'ave to do that. I'll take anything."

"Will you take it in the mouth?" I ask

She looks up at me and begins to cry.

"If that's want you want mister."

She begins to clamber to her hands and knees. The very idea of having her lips around my erection makes me want to vomit all over her.

"Christ! You're whoring yourself out. Have you no respect for yourself? If you need money, why don't you magic some up?"

"I'd love to," she sobs "But the Ministry... The Ministry took away my wand. I'm not allowed to do any magic. I'm lucky they didn't throw me out into the muggle world."

"Bitch, bitch, bitch. That's all you women do. You bitch about everything. Men can't do anything right. If we're not the right caste, then we're taking your magic away. Boo-fucking hoo!"

I notice that I'm beginning to scare this tramp and I get excited. I thrust my hand into my robe pocket and finger the gold plated tail-twig clippers I keep.

"Look, I'm sorry." I say as sympathetically as I can "I didn't mean to scare you. I've had a very busy day and you're stench was making me a little delirious. I can help you! I'm a student at Hogwarts. My name's Harry Potter."

"Harry Potter!" the crone smiles "I 'eard 'bout you. You'll 'elp me?"

"Yes, why not?" I laugh "Give me your hand and let me help you up."

I grab the hand she holds out by it's wrist and inspect it.

"What delicate hands you have. Your fingers... So fragile."

With all my strength I throw a punch at her face. She stumbles backwards and the back of her head hits the wall. She's out cold. I kneel next to her and pull out the clippers. Placing one finger between the blades I squeeze gently. I am almost ecstatic when the pain of losing her finger wakes the crone up and she is conscious enough to realise what is happening to her. In my other pocket is a large blade I stole from the house elves in the kitchen.

When I have finished with her, I place the pieces into a dustbin and walk off. When her body is found, the authorities will put it down to the Deatheaters. I start to skip and laugh and at one point I kick a cat so hard it flies over four feet in front of me. I finish the night off by making myself a hot chocolate and then falling into a blissful, dreamless sleep in front of the glow of the common room fire.