A/N: This is the sort of bloody part, so if you have a problem, I'm sorry. But this is why it's rated PG-13.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, J.K. Rowling does.
Hermione managed to stumble into the nearest girls' bathroom. She lay on the floor, crying. Minutes, hours, she had no idea how long she mourned in self-pity. Eventually, she got up, every cut throbbing. She took off her bloodstained robe and gasped. Her shirt and vest were caked in her sorrow made liquid. The skin of her arms, face and neck were tainted an eerie bright red.
She tore off her vest, wincing each time she moved. Her shirt at first glance appeared as a normal, red-dye button down top. On closer inspect, there were only a few untouched spots, just as her happiness only speckled her dark life. She cried out in frustration, ripping the sopping cloth off her body.
"I'm not a freak, I'm alive...I'm beautiful, I can be loved, I'm sane...I'm alive," she kept trying to convince herself to no avail. "Yet, I'm better off dead."
Hermione crawled over to the shower, disrobing on her way. As the warm water washed over her body, she watched, the floor becoming a deep scarlet. The water intermingled with her tears splashed down, drowning her cries, her curses on the world and everyone in it. But Ron. The water muffled her love songs. Her only witness was the loneliness that she knew so well.
She covered her body with a towel, studying herself in the mirror. Her cleansed skin was milk white, now. Her hair was matted, dripping. Various scratches and scars were scattered on her arms and face. After searching the cabinets, she wrapped her arms with gauze.
"No more bleeding...please. Just no more," she thought, pleading to no one.
"I can't wear these anymore," she sighed, a new glitter in her eyes, as she shoved the clothes in a garbage can. "Goodbye, cloth, you're just not perfect enough for this world," she deliriously cackled, muttering a spell. The can sparked, and the contents were engulfed in scarlet flames.
"Ugly, unwanted things never survive..."
...Five Days Later....
"Aw, Ron. You're so sweet," she blushed, giving him a quick kiss.
He smiled, staring into her sparkling brown eyes. He kissed her on the cheek, on the neck, and again on her soft lips. Their love was enforced with every embrace.
"I'm glad you're feeling better, but what was wrong last week?" he questioned, light-hearted.
She glared back at him, and muttered coldly, "Fuck. Off."
He flew back, hitting a stone wall...
.......
Ron awoke with a start, his heart pounding. He rubbed the back of his head where he purposively hit the granite.
"What the-"he whispered, glancing at the clock. "3 a.m. on a Friday...great."
He closed his eyes, but only saw her, glowering at him.
"I am such a dumb ass." He sighed, getting up quietly from his bed.
After "borrowing" Harry's invisibility cloak and taking a quick trip to the kitchens, Ron broke down on the couch in the common room. He drowned his troubles with a smuggled bottle of Butterrum.
"No wonder she hates me, I can't do anything, and I'm nothing to her, GOD DAMNIT!" He cursed at himself, throwing the glass in the fire, causing a shattering boom. He shook his head, lost. Someone quietly treaded down the staircase.
"Ron, are you alright?" Harry asked.
"No. No I'm not. Be a good friend and kill me?" Ron said, defeated.
Harry sat down next to him, "Now will you tell me what's going on?"
"I'm nothing, Harry. I'll always be second best."
Harry rolled his eyes, "Is that all? Yeah right, Ron. You've got you're whole life ahead of-"
"A life of nothing! I'm never going to be anything, you understand? I'm nothing...especially to her!"
"What are you talking about?!"
"HER! It's always about her. Harry, I'm in love with someone I can't have. She's perfect, I mean," Ron's face was red, his ears a bright pink. "She's gonna be something in life. I'm not Viktor, not strong, successful, or attractive. I'm not much of anything."
He opened another Butterrum bottle, taking a long slug. "Why try?"
"Ron, you should just tell her."
"You're right," he sighed. "I'll be upstairs in a minute..."
....The next day...Ron didn't show up for classes that day.
"Hey, Harry," Hermione greeted, her voice deflated.
"Good morning, 'Mione. What's up?"
"N-nothing," she stuttered. She hadn't slept for days. She cried endlessly. She had more cuts and bruises. "I'm fine."
A pause.
They both opened their mouths to talk, but she let him go first.
"You need to talk to Ron."
Another awkward pause.
"I know."
She swallowed, her mind going off on a tangent, "He's going to ask why I'm like this. He suspects something; I know it. And now he's got the nerve to confront me. I'm fine, what am I going to tell him? And if I do...he'll never want to see me again. If only I could be so lucky to never see myself again, but I don't have that luxury..."
....Six Hours Later in the Gryffindor Common Room...
"No-hic-nottin'." Ron drawled.
He hadn't showered, or moved from that spot for that matter, since Harry had talked to him that morning.
"Come on, get up," said Harry, as he began casting some scouring spells to clean up the mess.
"You know hic, I think..." Ron nodded off, a bottle in his hand.
Harry rolled his eyes, sighing, "Impugnify!"
Ron sobered up, shaking his head. "What am I doing?"
"I don't even know anymore, Ron."
..........Hermione shut herself in the bathroom, in an unfathomable state of depression. She felt like dementors constantly followed her, ice running through her veins."I've had enough of this life. Ugly, unwanted things never survive."
She took a deep breath and looked at herself in the mirror.
"I don't need intelligence to tell me I am just a waste of time."
She studied her pale hand carefully, and then CRASH, her nearly healed wrist was now half way through the tortuous glass. She didn't care about the pain anymore as the glass shattered in every direction.
"I've never been so alive, so sane...so alive."
Hermione took the biggest shard and sliced off her clothes.
"No need for extras...no, not anymore."
Her shirt was left in pieces. Each cut was beauty; it reached skin deep. Silent tears flowed constantly.
"This is it."
Her vest lay in tatters, her sleeves; just bits of cloth scattered on the floor. Every swing of the makeshift blade drew a crimson reward. The loss of blood made her weak, the wall supporting her. She picked up another piece of her broken life, and slid down to the floor.
She looked down at her wrist, the one not yet tainted with cuts and tears. Her other hand was poised to strike.
.........Ron pushed himself off the couch, still feeling dizzy from the hangover.
"I better wash up", he thought, not believing he let himself skip classes again.
He walked over to the boys' washroom, but stepped on something sharp.
"Ow, what the bloody hell?" he cursed, looking down.
He noticed bits of broken glass, coming from the girls' room. He stopped, bending low, his ear to the door. He heard a faint sobbing, someone in pain. He opened the door softly, asking the unknown person, "Are you alright? Do you need help?" But then, he looked down and saw her.
Ron quickly got down on his hands and knees, not knowing where to start.
"Hermione, what happened, can you hear me?"
"I'm leaving, f-for good. I'm sorry I wasn't pretty enough for this world...for you." Her head drooped, lifelessly.
"Oh God," he whispered, "no you can't be..."
He hurriedly took off his robe, wrapping it around her.
"You're gonna be all right, I promise," he murmured, praying. God, let her be alright...
A/N: We've still got more to go! Hope you enjoyed it, and with any luck I'll be getting the next chapter uploaded soon! As always, please r&r!