Draco heard the door to his room creak open. He'd been awed at the size of
the room earlier...and he'd been able to decorate it to his tastes...Snakes
slithered around the wall in intricate patterns, mixed with murals of
jungle foliage and other jungle animals. The bed was much the same, and
there was an eerie green glow to the room, making it seem like the jungle
at night.
Hermione smiled slightly at the sight of the sleeping...or so she thought...man on the bed. She moved forward and carefully checked over his wounds. They were healing well...but she knew that they'd need more care than one day and one night could give him.
It was going to be a while before she got to bed, she could tell. So she began to tell him about herself...everything that had happened since she'd been young. She talked quietly in a soothing voice, and Draco found himself listening, though he didn't mean to. He winced when she told him about the pain her first broken arm had brought her. And he nearly cried with her when she described how close she and her grandfather had been before he'd died.
Hermione didn't know why she was talking to him when he was asleep like this...and she said so. "And besides that...I'm just a worthless Mudblood to you. I guess nothing will ever change. I could help you until I killed myself doing so and you'd still hate me. I heard about your Father...I just wanted to say that I'm sorry. My mother did the same...before she died. It was horrible. A lot of people don't know...but the woman I call my mom is my step mom. Her name is Diana...she's so wonderful to me. My real mom's name was actually Lakota.
"I wish I could tell you some of these things with the assurance that you'd sit there and listen...like you're doing now. I understand more than most people give me credit for. My parents split when I was young...she'd always beat me...it hurt more than people know. Therapy hasn't cured me...even though I pretend that it has. They haven't been there. They don't know. Their foolish diagnosis's and such...they can't erase the feeling of someone who you should be able to trust hurting you so badly. They can talk fancy until their faces turn blue.but the asses will never know how it feels.
"You do, though. I recognize the way these were inflicted. That's the reason they don't heal with your magic...it's complex, really...another person has to heal you...kinda like Harry and Voldemort as such as Harry's mother died to protect him and thus Voldemort couldn't touch him. Well, it works the opposite way with this. You can't heal yourself and someone wanting you for what you're to become can't heal it...it takes someone doing a kind deed to do it. A crème-like potion that's not difficult to make. I make it to help others like me out. It's really all-purpose. It'll heal nearly anything. I love it...it's handy for all of your basic injuries, plus the more serious ones. But you probably don't want to hear about that rubbish...
"Anyway...where was I? Oh yeah...third grade. That was when my real mom left, you know. She just got tired of it, I guess. By then I was cutting myself REALLY deeply. Like...half an inch deep. I did it at the slightest of dirty looks coming my way. I couldn't stand being the outcast any longer. I just had to do something to make myself feel better. My dad had given me this silver pocketknife when I went into first grade. Sounds kinda brutal, I know...just barely eight-years-old and cutting yourself...but not much escaped me, even back then. I stopped last year, you know. It was hard...but I did it. I haven't cut myself since last May...I'm proud of that...but sometimes I miss it. It was a fairly good way to deal with the stress, really.
"Guess we can't have everything, can we? Anyway...I'm done now, so I'll head back to my own bed. I'll talk some more tomorrow night, when I come in to take care of your wounds..." He felt her leave his side, and soon after the door closed. He thought for a while on what she'd told him, and he couldn't help thinking that she wasn't so different from him. With a pained shrug, he closed his eyes and let himself be drawn into the world of dreams.
Hermione trudged across the bathroom that joined their rooms and into her own room. She'd decorated hers in wintery murals with wolf packs racing across...she'd even charmed it to make the pack move around, so you never knew where they'd be. At that moment, however, they were curled up in the snow together, dozing. She smiled and looked at the bed. The bedspread was much the same way, as was the carpet. The furniture was in shades of blue and gray, carefully complimenting each other perfectly. The door to the hallway was painted like a cave opening, and the doorway to the bathroom looked like a second opening.
Sliding into her bed, Hermione took a deep breath. She couldn't believe she'd talked for so long. It was nearly 2 in the morning. Well, as much sleep as she got without sleeping potions...it didn't much matter. Sighing, she slid back onto her sheets and looked down at the tiny solid black kitten curled in the little basket beside the bed. The feline was completely black, save for the itty-bitty piece of white fur tipping her right front paw.
"Sakura, you're so lucky. You can sleep anywhere at any time." Hermione griped softly. Sighing, she settled into bed and yawned, closing her eyes.
It was going to be a looong night.
*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*! *!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*
The next morning, Hermione walked into the Great Hall and sat beside Harry and Ron. Ginny and Lavender were sitting across from them, and they were all engaged in an interesting conversation.
"I say October. Halloween." Ron said, calmly.
"No...not enough time. Christmas." Harry said.
"Christmas does seem more logical." Ginny agreed.
"But nobody would be expecting Halloween." Lavender pointed out.
"What are you guys talking about?" Hermione cut in, annoyed.
"Oh! Hey, Herms! We're just betting on when Malfoy will get his Dark Mark. You want to bet too?" Ron said, calmly.
"No...that's okay." Hermione said, a bit disgusted with the entire subject.
"Great! You can find out for us, then!" Ron grinned. Harry nodded his agreement.
"I think you're all fucked in the head." Hermione stated, quite calmly. "I'll not get your information. Find a different way to get it." She grabbed her schedule and stood, turning to go. She hadn't taken two steps when she ran into a strong chest.
Draco winced and looked down at her, his eyes full of hurt...and, somehow...thanks. He turned and walked to his own table, sitting down and ignoring Pansy Parkinson as he ate. He thought hard on what Hermione'd said to her friends...he'd overheard it all...and it hurt him badly. Sighing, he took a bite of his toast before standing up and walking out of the Great Hall to his first class.
Hermione smiled slightly at the sight of the sleeping...or so she thought...man on the bed. She moved forward and carefully checked over his wounds. They were healing well...but she knew that they'd need more care than one day and one night could give him.
It was going to be a while before she got to bed, she could tell. So she began to tell him about herself...everything that had happened since she'd been young. She talked quietly in a soothing voice, and Draco found himself listening, though he didn't mean to. He winced when she told him about the pain her first broken arm had brought her. And he nearly cried with her when she described how close she and her grandfather had been before he'd died.
Hermione didn't know why she was talking to him when he was asleep like this...and she said so. "And besides that...I'm just a worthless Mudblood to you. I guess nothing will ever change. I could help you until I killed myself doing so and you'd still hate me. I heard about your Father...I just wanted to say that I'm sorry. My mother did the same...before she died. It was horrible. A lot of people don't know...but the woman I call my mom is my step mom. Her name is Diana...she's so wonderful to me. My real mom's name was actually Lakota.
"I wish I could tell you some of these things with the assurance that you'd sit there and listen...like you're doing now. I understand more than most people give me credit for. My parents split when I was young...she'd always beat me...it hurt more than people know. Therapy hasn't cured me...even though I pretend that it has. They haven't been there. They don't know. Their foolish diagnosis's and such...they can't erase the feeling of someone who you should be able to trust hurting you so badly. They can talk fancy until their faces turn blue.but the asses will never know how it feels.
"You do, though. I recognize the way these were inflicted. That's the reason they don't heal with your magic...it's complex, really...another person has to heal you...kinda like Harry and Voldemort as such as Harry's mother died to protect him and thus Voldemort couldn't touch him. Well, it works the opposite way with this. You can't heal yourself and someone wanting you for what you're to become can't heal it...it takes someone doing a kind deed to do it. A crème-like potion that's not difficult to make. I make it to help others like me out. It's really all-purpose. It'll heal nearly anything. I love it...it's handy for all of your basic injuries, plus the more serious ones. But you probably don't want to hear about that rubbish...
"Anyway...where was I? Oh yeah...third grade. That was when my real mom left, you know. She just got tired of it, I guess. By then I was cutting myself REALLY deeply. Like...half an inch deep. I did it at the slightest of dirty looks coming my way. I couldn't stand being the outcast any longer. I just had to do something to make myself feel better. My dad had given me this silver pocketknife when I went into first grade. Sounds kinda brutal, I know...just barely eight-years-old and cutting yourself...but not much escaped me, even back then. I stopped last year, you know. It was hard...but I did it. I haven't cut myself since last May...I'm proud of that...but sometimes I miss it. It was a fairly good way to deal with the stress, really.
"Guess we can't have everything, can we? Anyway...I'm done now, so I'll head back to my own bed. I'll talk some more tomorrow night, when I come in to take care of your wounds..." He felt her leave his side, and soon after the door closed. He thought for a while on what she'd told him, and he couldn't help thinking that she wasn't so different from him. With a pained shrug, he closed his eyes and let himself be drawn into the world of dreams.
Hermione trudged across the bathroom that joined their rooms and into her own room. She'd decorated hers in wintery murals with wolf packs racing across...she'd even charmed it to make the pack move around, so you never knew where they'd be. At that moment, however, they were curled up in the snow together, dozing. She smiled and looked at the bed. The bedspread was much the same way, as was the carpet. The furniture was in shades of blue and gray, carefully complimenting each other perfectly. The door to the hallway was painted like a cave opening, and the doorway to the bathroom looked like a second opening.
Sliding into her bed, Hermione took a deep breath. She couldn't believe she'd talked for so long. It was nearly 2 in the morning. Well, as much sleep as she got without sleeping potions...it didn't much matter. Sighing, she slid back onto her sheets and looked down at the tiny solid black kitten curled in the little basket beside the bed. The feline was completely black, save for the itty-bitty piece of white fur tipping her right front paw.
"Sakura, you're so lucky. You can sleep anywhere at any time." Hermione griped softly. Sighing, she settled into bed and yawned, closing her eyes.
It was going to be a looong night.
*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*! *!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*
The next morning, Hermione walked into the Great Hall and sat beside Harry and Ron. Ginny and Lavender were sitting across from them, and they were all engaged in an interesting conversation.
"I say October. Halloween." Ron said, calmly.
"No...not enough time. Christmas." Harry said.
"Christmas does seem more logical." Ginny agreed.
"But nobody would be expecting Halloween." Lavender pointed out.
"What are you guys talking about?" Hermione cut in, annoyed.
"Oh! Hey, Herms! We're just betting on when Malfoy will get his Dark Mark. You want to bet too?" Ron said, calmly.
"No...that's okay." Hermione said, a bit disgusted with the entire subject.
"Great! You can find out for us, then!" Ron grinned. Harry nodded his agreement.
"I think you're all fucked in the head." Hermione stated, quite calmly. "I'll not get your information. Find a different way to get it." She grabbed her schedule and stood, turning to go. She hadn't taken two steps when she ran into a strong chest.
Draco winced and looked down at her, his eyes full of hurt...and, somehow...thanks. He turned and walked to his own table, sitting down and ignoring Pansy Parkinson as he ate. He thought hard on what Hermione'd said to her friends...he'd overheard it all...and it hurt him badly. Sighing, he took a bite of his toast before standing up and walking out of the Great Hall to his first class.