Disclaimer: Harry Potter or anything else from the books do not belong to me, they belong to the wonderful J.K. Rowling. I am not making any profit from this.
A/N: When I had first started this story, it was so much different. Very serious, very deep. I hated it. Ugh, it was just not me. So here's Version 2. It's a bit silly, yes. I'm not trying to make light of suicide or depression (I went through both, this isn't completely unfamiliar territory for me.) It just sprung out of irritation at alot of the other Hermione suicide fics.
Not much else I can really say. Read it, hopefully enjoy it, and leave an honest review. I'd like to hear other people's opinions on this.
For Merlin's Sake, if You Don't Shut Up and Jump, I'll Push You Off.
Cool air blew her chestnut hair into spiraling tendrils that rode the wind. As sharp tears stung her cheeks, Hermione held on feebly to the window's edge. Not daring to look out below, she stared straight out into the night sky, which was crystal clear and twinkled as stars often do.
She grew irritated at the twinkling sky. How dare it remain the same? How can it simply go on as if nothing has changed?
It was simply a travesty. Hermione was hurting inside, and she wanted everyone else to hurt as well.
Not that she actually knew this. It was all subconcious, you see.
Hermione frowned, cursing herself for being what she had often loathed the most, a procrastinator. Ah, how things just kept spiraling down into a vortex of self-hatred and anger at the rest. She took a deep breath, and teetered to the edge of the ledge, still not looking down.
She knew it must be nearly 250 feet to the bottom, and that was surely enough to get this over with. Hermione didn't want any mistakes. Even in death, she wouldn't allow herself to be sloppy.
Everything was in order, her will and letters safely locked away in her trunk. It would open once she had finished her nefarious deed.
Provided she would stop being such a coward and it over with already. She bit her bottom lip, summoning up all of the terrible wrongs that have been done against her.
Surely there was no one as internally tortured as she. After all, she was a 16 year old girl. That in itself was a crime. And then of course, was the constant ignorance she got from Harry and Ron, though she supposed that it might have been because they were males.
Her parents hated her, they had told her that themselves. Damn Muggles. They just couldn't grasp the idea that Hermione didn't want to leave Hogwarts and become a dentist like they hoped she would.
And then finally, the last straw, her less than consentive deflowering. Some of the Slytherins you see, had thought it would be "funny" to hit her with an inebriation charm. Now, that Hermione could have dealt with. It was the fact that Goyle and Crabbe had gotten the bright idea to have a nice little threesome with her which caused her self-disgust. She had liked it at the time. She was a Goyle-and-Crabbe sandwich, and she had enjoyed it.
Ugh, the mere thought of it made her want to vomit. She hadn't told the boys about it, their friendship was rocky enough without her adding more onto it. Oh, she wanted to. She wanted the comfort that she assumed they would provide, but she simply couldn't do it.
If your emotions could expressed as colors, Hermione's color would black at the moment. Or maybe it was more of a charcoal. But, that's besides the point. Hermione had gotten herself worked up enough that she let go of the edge and prepared herself for her great plunge.
But, before she could move, a silky voice came from somewhere behind her. "Would you like a hand?"
Hermione drew in a sharp breath in surprise that someone had interrupted her private rendezvous. She turned around, full of indignation. "Bugger off, Snape." she spat, bold in her last few moments of life.
Snape stepped from the shadows into the moonlight, his face bearing an expression of indignation. "You wound me, Miss Granger, with your sharp tongue. All I wanted was to provide you with my services, in your hour of need."
"Was I not clear? Leave...Me...Alone." Hermione intoned, as if Snape were a simpleton.
"And deprive myself of such a spectacular show? I daresay I cannot." Snape took a slight step back. "But do not let me spoil your fun, please, continue."
Getting the feeling that no matter what she did, Snape would not leave, Hermione turned around again. Sick bastard, she thought as she gave a slight snort.
"Is there a problem, Miss Granger?" Snape inquired in a light tone. He was mocking her, Hermione realized.
Irate, Hermione pulled out her wand and spun around to face Snape. She was not in the mood for his sarcasm.
The smirk melted from Snape's face. His dark eyes changed as all the humor went out of the situation. In three sharp strides, he had gone over to the ledge, grabbed Hermione by her shirt and pulled her to the floor.
"What the bloody hell Snape!" Hermione cursed, moving to get up from the cold stone floor.
Snape pushed her back down. "For the love of Merlin will you stop it with your incessant whining!" he said exasperatingly.
Hermione's expression was one of disgust, it was the face of one who had taken a blow to their pride by one they despised. "How dare-" Hermione started to say.
Professor Snape raised one black gloved hand in a gesture clearly meaning 'Shut up already'. "For near four months all I have heard about is the "poor" Hermione Granger and her obvious depression. The teachers, the students, everyone is concerned. And I've had enough, hearing about the "problems" of a teenage girl who wouldn't know suffering if it kicked her in the shin and stole her wand."
"My advice to you, m'dear, is to bloody get over it already." Snape frowned.
"So you've had an unfortunate experience or two. You aren't the first and you won't be the last. There's a war going on, and you're just going to have to get used to the idea that the world does not revolve around you." Snape sneered.
Hermione's jaw dropped. He was telling her everything she didn't want to hear. "If I'm such a problem for you, sir, then why won't you just let me jump and be done with it all?" Hermione frowned up and the tall professor.
"Because if I allowed you to do so, it would invariably cause more problems for myself. And anyway, cleaning blood off of stone is such messy work." Snape said offhandedly.
A snort escaped Hermione's less-than-composed figure. Typical Snape. "Well it's good to see that you've gotten your priorities in order, sir." Hermione said sarcastically.
Snape actually had to put effort into not allowing his sneer to turn into a smile. Silly girl, had she no idea how amusing this was? "Of course I do, Miss Granger. I'm a Slytherin. You should expect no less."
"I'll file that away for future reference." was Hermione's muffled response. Looking down, Snape found that she had gotten tangled in her cloak and scarf as she tried to get off of the floor.
"Here," Snape offered her a hand. Hermione eyed it warily. "For the love of Merlin, just take it." he growled.
Hermione took his thin, gloved hand and together they managed to get Hermione off of the floor. She dusted herself off, getting her clothes in order. When she had looked up, Snape was already at the door.
"Sir?" Hermione asked.
"What is it now?"
"I think I needed that." said Hermione.
"See that you don't again. I'm not in the habit of saving people. It might ruin the way people percieve me." and with that, Snape swept from the tower.
Hermione stayed where she was a moment, a bit frightened at how close she had come to actually doing it. She hugged herself as a chilling breeze flew in from the open window.
Perhaps things weren't really as bad as they seemed.
She started walking towards the door, when she heard the bellow of "Get to bed!" echo off of the castle walls. Hermione gave a small chuckle. Typical.
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A/N: What do you think? I kinda like the end, it seemed to work. Eh. I really like the title of this, but it's too long and won't accept it...Oh well...
R/R.