[A/N: Here's the thing. The stories I post are my self-pity and prove how life is for someone who has been single for all of their years spent on the earth. So, I'm not entirely fond of them anymore, I actually feel better when I write my Slytherin stories, but I haven't posted those have I? Read my author page, you'll understand. I have no experience with the things Hermione has gone through, all in my imagination, so I apologize if the events are too much of an understatement. Or if this is a little AU, Ôcause this story is the mess that a depressed human being has created]
Chapter VIII
The next morning, Hermione woke up, and looked around the bland infirmary. Taking the sheets from her legs, Hermione sat up in the bed.
"Quite early to try and escape the hospital, hm?"
Hermione turned around to see that Severus had just entered the Hospital Wing, he was apparently paying Madam Promfrey a visit.
"I wasn't trying to escape, just- err- stretching," Hermione replied, making her own voice unconvincing, she grinned at him.
To her surprise, he smiled back.
"I see... Well, nobody will be in the room soon and the door is open. Good luck," he gave her a nod, then entered the office at the end of the room.
Still a bit surprised, Hermione stretched out in her bed. Then, deciding to take a shower, she stood up and entered the lavatory.
Madam Promfrey had found a few slight problems with her brain, but told Hermione that she was very lucky. Hermione, could have, of course, lost her sanity that night, or the night she found her parents.
Turning the water to cold, she got under the thunderous rain and washed her hair. After finishing up her shower, Hermione got dressed, and reentered the infirmary.
She was shocked to see people standing at her bed. Silently walking over, she took a look at who it was.
"Hello," Hermione said, her voice still temporarily hoarse, damaged by the students.
She was immediately engulfed in hugs from Molly, Arthur, Fred, and George Weasley. Molly apologizing the whole time.
"I'm so sorry, oh Hermione, you look so weak. Come, lay down," Molly ushered her into the bed, and sighed in relief as Hermione got under the covers.
"Thank you, but you don't have to apologize," Hermione said, smiling.
"How are you feeling, dear?" Molly asked, as the family took a few chairs and sat down by her bed.
"A few aches, brain damage, that's it," Hermione shrugged, making sure not to mention the faint feeling, from loss of large amounts of blood.
"They did that too! I can't believe them, causing you brain damage-"
"Mrs. Weasley, I had the problem before that day," Hermione mumbled.
Molly nodded in understanding, still fussing over the girl.
"Would you like to spend the holidays at headquarters with us and some of the Order members?" Arthur asked.
"I would love to," Hermione replied, she ignored the terrible feeling of dread.
"Fantastic!" Fred exclaimed, making Molly jump in surprise.
"Did you receive our gifts?" George asked, eagerly.
"Yeah, I haven't been able to see them yet though, everything is in my common room," Hermione replied.
"You have your own common room? And your not Head Girl?" Fred asked in amazement.
Hermione nodded, slightly amused.
"But the only common rooms that we have heard of are the Head's, Gryffindor, Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and the staff. And you don't use the Gryffindor ones," Fred began to concentrate on the curtain as he thought.
"Don't hurt yourself, Fred," George patted his twin dramatically on the back.
"Well, we better get going, see you next week, Hermione," Arthur said.
After more hugs, the Weasley's left, Fred still thinking very hard.
VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV
A few days later, Madam Promfrey finally (yet reluctantly) allowed Hermione to leave the Hospital Wing. She walked through the halls, still feeling a bit scared and weary. No one said anything to her, they would just stare at her in pity and shock.
Great, Hermione thought, watching as a few Gryffindors looked at her sadly.
She entered her common room to find tables stacked with bags of little toys and contraptions, and a heavenly reasonable amount of candy. She let a faint smile cross her face, yet it only comforted slightly.
The feeling of dread multiplied itself as Hermione slumped onto the couch, allowing herself to lose some consciousness. Just a few months ago she had been sobbing on that same couch, wondering if her friends were going to help bring her out of the ashes that was her life.
Hermione gave a bitter laugh at her metaphor and threw a nearby book into the fire, not caring which one it was. No longer wallowing in self-pity, but feeling a sudden bitter anger that could only be the after-effects of the school's betrayal. She stood up, kicking the table onto its side in a new strength that only stress and anger could give someone.
Hermione stomped across the common room, wanting to just torture something. Her body stiffened with the stress and she wanted so much to just rip her hair out of her head, to just relax. She had sympathy. Wasn't that what she wanted?
"Gods, why can't I make up my mind," Hermione cried in strangled voice, feeling really, really frustrated by all the nerves.
Her fury was practically blinding, she couldn't understand why, but she just had to hurt something.
She picked up her knife that lay confined under a pillow on the couch, and began to cut everything in her way. Feathers from the pillows soon littered the floor, the couches and armchairs were torn up with slits from the blade. Hermione gave out a yell from the burst of stressing madness.
She fell against an extremely destroyed chair, feeling sorry for herself like every other time. She had friends still, the adults. But were they really counted as friends? Were their comforting words used to just save another life, not to show their love to someone who they truly cared about?
"Who am I kidding?" Hermione muttered quietly, barely awake from the feeling of weakness.
Her eyes closed with a flutter, and she fell asleep.
VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV
Dobby was throwing her things eagerly into her trunk as Hermione brushed her hair. The depression had banished itself from her thoughts for a few days, giving her a chance to relax.
As she slowly ran the brush through her hair, she gave her reflection a soft smile. It was the day that she would be heading to Grimmauld Place, and her nerves just wouldn't give up. Hermione gave the brush to Dobby and put on her turtleneck sweater.
"Dobby, what if I changed my appearance?" Hermione asked the house-elf quietly.
"Young Miss, you is looking good the way you's is," Dobby replied earnestly.
"Yeah, but I don't have any friends now. And most girls would jump at the chance of a makeover," Hermione sighed.
Dobby gave a small shrug, then locked up her trunk triumphantly. Hermione waved good-bye as she headed out into the corridor, through the bustle of students. She hoped that she was unnoticed as she slipped through the crowd to the entrance hall.
She paid no attention to the pale sky overhead, nor to the cold breeze that made her fellow peers shiver and bring their jackets and cloaks closer to themselves. She entered a carriage by herself, and huddled beneath her cloak in the corner, hoping beyond hope that no one would enter.
She was not lucky.
One person came inside, glaring down any others who tried to entrance also, then closed the carriage door and allowed it to be taken down to Hogsmeade.
Hermione looked away from the window and glared in hatred at the thing that had dared to intrude in on her peace. He looked away in shame, but she did not pay any notice. Her veins burst with the hate that had spoiled her blood, from just looking at him.
"Get out, I don't care if the carriage is moving or not, just get out," Hermione muttered, narrowing her eyes as if daring him.
"I'm sorry, but-"
Hermione ignored him. "You have caused me enough torture. Or is that not enough for you?"
"I didn't mean it," Draco pleaded.
"Shut up! I feel so stupid that I actually fell for your cruel joke! Gods, I feel like a moron!" Hermione groaned, putting her face in her hands.
"Please, understand," Draco whispered, scooting towards her as she cried.
Hermione leaped away from him, seating herself as far away from Draco as possible. She glared at him with anger and disgust.
"You think that I am idiotic enough to fall for that? Do you actually assume that I will cry into your shoulder, so that you could have one up on me? I hate you! I hate you so much! Just standing there with your whore as they tried to kill me! Not giving a damn!" she yelled.
He opened his mouth but she cut him off. "Don't even try! I thought I actually had a friend! When I woke up, I saw my world completely different! I was actually happy!"
Hermione kicked the seat, intentionally damaging the wood also. The carriage stopped, and before he could utter another word, Hermione stood up and slapped him hard across the face.
Feeling as angry as ever, she stormed out of the carriage and onto the train, pushing past anyone who stopped and stared. She got onto the train and entered the farthest compartment in the back.
Slamming the door shut, Hermione sat down angrily onto the seat, and curled up into a fetal position, crying with a newfound bitterness. No one dared to enter, after seeing the red hand print on Draco's face.
VVVVVVVVVVVVVV
Hermione clambered out onto the platform, feeling weak, her limbs shaking as she looked around for the Order members. Harry, Ginny, and Ron were heading toward a small group of people, who she guessed were the ones she was looking for. Trembling, Hermione brought her cloak tighter around her body and walked over to them.
They just stared as she stopped and looked at the ground, avoiding everyone's eyes. They had all been there at the attack, and it gave Hermione a greater feeling of dread.
They silently walked out the barrier, Hermione making sure to avoid the other three, she could already feel the depression coming on. Everyone filed into the ministry car that Dumbledore had managed to get.
Hermione sat in the corner, by the window, staring out at all the people that the car passed. Everyone snuck a glance at the girl that stared out the window, a sort of longing evident on her features.
The tension in the car thickened as Hermione stared out, feeling the stares of the occupants, and she just wanted them to talk or something. A straight lock of hair fell into her face, but she didn't move it away, there was no point.
She was the last to exit the car, hating herself for being so self-pitying. They entered the house, and Hermione was lead to a different room than where she used to stay. The room was bland and plain, chipped gray paint covered the walls, the bed looked like it was one minute from collapsing, and an old dusty mirror sat in the corner.
Molly set her trunk down in front of the bed, and smiled warmly at Hermione, who just responded with an absent nod. After the door closed, she walked over to the mirror and stared at her pale reflection.
Hermione nearly jumped as the mirror spoke to her.
"Dear, your so pale and thin," the mirror tutted.
"I suppose," Hermione murmured, taking a few steps away.
"Hmm," the mirror just sighed.
Hermione went back to her bed and sat on it, alone and unaware of her surroundings. Her mind wandered through the many emotions she was currently feeling, and it was all too much to sort through.
"I hate myself," Hermione fell back on the bed, closing her eyes tightly.
"Dear, your so beautiful though. Anyone would envy that long hair, and that marvelous hair color," the mirror replied sweetly.
"I hate being me," Hermione seethed, ignoring the mirror's comfort.
"Don't beat yourself up, hun," the mirror retorted, yawning.
"I want to change, for absolutely no reason at all! Change my whole appearance! I am so stereotypical!" Hermione moaned irritably.
v
"Dear?" the mirror questioned.
"I don't want to be supposedly pretty," Hermione told the mirror, getting up from the bed, and tugging at her long hair as an indication.
The mirror didn't reply. Hermione sighed deeply, walking over to her reflection angrily.
"I have no idea why I'm still depressed! Why? I got the sympathy! I just don't know why I have to be so self-obsessive! Crying over my own faults!" Hermione screamed, feeling so angry, her body trembling.
"Why are you so angry?" the mirror asked soothingly.
"I have no idea!" she cried, leaning against the dresser for support.
"I'm sure there are many people who care for you," the mirror said.
"I just don't want to be me. Have you ever felt like being yourself was too much? I don't have any parents, I have millions of enemies, I was practically killed by nearly three hundred people or so!"
Hermione sat on the floor, sobbing. It was way too much to take in, and now that everything had been admitted, realization finally hitting her with all the horrible facts. She just couldn't take all of it, it was all way, way too much.
"Why did they have to go? I need them so much and their gone," Hermione mumbled, resting her head on the wood, trying to sort out her thoughts thoroughly.
The room went into peaceful silence, Hermione brought her knees to her chest as she tried to think. Then, an idea came to mind.
Immediately standing up, Hermione ran to her trunk and got out her wand and her knife. The mirror gasped, but she ignored it. Walking to the mirror, Hermione took the knife to her hair and cut it so that it was two inches above her shoulder. She then took out her wand, remembering the mirror's words. No more "beautiful" long hair. No more of that "lovely" hair color.
Saying a few well chosen words, she let her hair turn black, not caring that it was permanent. Her mind was not functioning properly, and she was acting through anger and sadness. The mirror gasped dramatically once more.
"Dear! What have you done to your hair?" the mirror asked in shock.
"Just what needed to be done," Hermione replied, a twisted smile haunting her lips. She looked at her reflection, and nodded. Pleased.
Throwing the knife across the room, the wand lying unnoticed on the floor, she walked over to her bed and lied face down. No more tears, no more tears, her mind repeated the words over and over again.
"Who's occupied this room?" she asked the mirror, her voice muffled by the pillow.
"Only one person, she was bit unusual though," the mirror replied sadly.
"Who?" Hermione inquired, sitting up and looking over at the mirror.
"Bellatrix, I believe, she stayed over during the summer or winter occasionally," it answered.
"Did she leave anything behind?" Hermione asked, interested.
"Yes, some of those mutilated dolls of hers, hair brushes, makeup, a few clothes, a few letters, and that's it," the mirror replied.
Hermione jumped up, "Where is this all?"
"Some people came in to clean up the room, but no matter how many times I told them, there was a loose floorboard they had forgotten, they ignored me," the mirror gave an indignant huff.
"Where?"
"Under the bed."
Hermione ran over to the bed, pulled it from the wall, leaving it in the middle of the room. She immediately moved to the floor, pounding down on each floorboard. This was the most interesting room that the Order members could have chosen for her. When she found the correct floorboard, she lifted it up and gasped when she saw a small box inside.
"Brilliant," Hermione breathed as she took it out and put the floorboard back.
The box was filled with parchment, little kits of makeup, disturbing figurines, hair things, jewelery, and some folded black clothing.
v"I wonder if she'll mind if I keep all of this," Hermione wondered aloud.
"From what I've heard she's a crazy murderer, so I don't think she'll mind at all," the mirror stated.
"Great! I don't know why, but I now feel so much better," Hermione sighed, holding a black long sleeve shirt with a red lace-up over herself.
Hermione threw her cloak off, took her sweater and shirt off, then put the older shirt on. She walked over to the box and took out a long black skirt, that looked a bit torn up, but intentionally. Putting that on too, Hermione admired her reflection, finally happy with what she saw.
"What would people say, knowing that a muggle-born was trying on Bellatrix Lestrange's clothes," Hermione smiled faintly, the excitement lifting her mood dramatically.
Putting her boots back on, she went over to the box and took out all the makeup. Eyeliner, dark crimson blush, and red lipstick, Hermione was amazed at how gothic Bellatrix was.
"Am I being too dramatic with this change?" Hermione asked the mirror uneasily.
"Of course not, everyone wants to change once in a while."
"Yeah, I just really hate myself," Hermione muttered.
"Save the makeup for later though. Until you know how to use it," the mirror suggested.
"Good idea, it'll be enough of a shock with my hair and the clothes... Gods, look at me! My parents would be so disappointed," Hermione kneeled onto the floor, staring at herself suddenly in horror.
The mirror didn't reply, to which she was grateful. How could she have cut her hair like that? It was still straight, but it was so short. She was wearing some Death Eater's clothes and she was trying to wear gothic makeup. Why did she have to go through with her mad intentions? Hermione let a tear fall down her cheek, feeling disappointed in herself.
The door suddenly opened, making Hermione jump from the floor in surprise. Molly was standing there, gaping at her in shock.
"D-dinner's ready," Molly stammered, before turning away and closing the door.
"Go eat, you need the nutrients," the mirror reassured her.
Hermione nodded emotionlessly, and walked to the door. Opening it silently, she crept down the stairs to the kitchen, feeling the dread as strong as ever. She opened the kitchen door, unnoticed at first (Molly was standing at the counter, still in shock), until they all looked over toward her at once.
[A/N: Read my author page please for info, sorry it took so long for me to add the new chapter (lack of inspiration), and please review! Thanks for reading the story I currently dislike! No offense intended!]
Chapter VIII
The next morning, Hermione woke up, and looked around the bland infirmary. Taking the sheets from her legs, Hermione sat up in the bed.
"Quite early to try and escape the hospital, hm?"
Hermione turned around to see that Severus had just entered the Hospital Wing, he was apparently paying Madam Promfrey a visit.
"I wasn't trying to escape, just- err- stretching," Hermione replied, making her own voice unconvincing, she grinned at him.
To her surprise, he smiled back.
"I see... Well, nobody will be in the room soon and the door is open. Good luck," he gave her a nod, then entered the office at the end of the room.
Still a bit surprised, Hermione stretched out in her bed. Then, deciding to take a shower, she stood up and entered the lavatory.
Madam Promfrey had found a few slight problems with her brain, but told Hermione that she was very lucky. Hermione, could have, of course, lost her sanity that night, or the night she found her parents.
Turning the water to cold, she got under the thunderous rain and washed her hair. After finishing up her shower, Hermione got dressed, and reentered the infirmary.
She was shocked to see people standing at her bed. Silently walking over, she took a look at who it was.
"Hello," Hermione said, her voice still temporarily hoarse, damaged by the students.
She was immediately engulfed in hugs from Molly, Arthur, Fred, and George Weasley. Molly apologizing the whole time.
"I'm so sorry, oh Hermione, you look so weak. Come, lay down," Molly ushered her into the bed, and sighed in relief as Hermione got under the covers.
"Thank you, but you don't have to apologize," Hermione said, smiling.
"How are you feeling, dear?" Molly asked, as the family took a few chairs and sat down by her bed.
"A few aches, brain damage, that's it," Hermione shrugged, making sure not to mention the faint feeling, from loss of large amounts of blood.
"They did that too! I can't believe them, causing you brain damage-"
"Mrs. Weasley, I had the problem before that day," Hermione mumbled.
Molly nodded in understanding, still fussing over the girl.
"Would you like to spend the holidays at headquarters with us and some of the Order members?" Arthur asked.
"I would love to," Hermione replied, she ignored the terrible feeling of dread.
"Fantastic!" Fred exclaimed, making Molly jump in surprise.
"Did you receive our gifts?" George asked, eagerly.
"Yeah, I haven't been able to see them yet though, everything is in my common room," Hermione replied.
"You have your own common room? And your not Head Girl?" Fred asked in amazement.
Hermione nodded, slightly amused.
"But the only common rooms that we have heard of are the Head's, Gryffindor, Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and the staff. And you don't use the Gryffindor ones," Fred began to concentrate on the curtain as he thought.
"Don't hurt yourself, Fred," George patted his twin dramatically on the back.
"Well, we better get going, see you next week, Hermione," Arthur said.
After more hugs, the Weasley's left, Fred still thinking very hard.
VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV
A few days later, Madam Promfrey finally (yet reluctantly) allowed Hermione to leave the Hospital Wing. She walked through the halls, still feeling a bit scared and weary. No one said anything to her, they would just stare at her in pity and shock.
Great, Hermione thought, watching as a few Gryffindors looked at her sadly.
She entered her common room to find tables stacked with bags of little toys and contraptions, and a heavenly reasonable amount of candy. She let a faint smile cross her face, yet it only comforted slightly.
The feeling of dread multiplied itself as Hermione slumped onto the couch, allowing herself to lose some consciousness. Just a few months ago she had been sobbing on that same couch, wondering if her friends were going to help bring her out of the ashes that was her life.
Hermione gave a bitter laugh at her metaphor and threw a nearby book into the fire, not caring which one it was. No longer wallowing in self-pity, but feeling a sudden bitter anger that could only be the after-effects of the school's betrayal. She stood up, kicking the table onto its side in a new strength that only stress and anger could give someone.
Hermione stomped across the common room, wanting to just torture something. Her body stiffened with the stress and she wanted so much to just rip her hair out of her head, to just relax. She had sympathy. Wasn't that what she wanted?
"Gods, why can't I make up my mind," Hermione cried in strangled voice, feeling really, really frustrated by all the nerves.
Her fury was practically blinding, she couldn't understand why, but she just had to hurt something.
She picked up her knife that lay confined under a pillow on the couch, and began to cut everything in her way. Feathers from the pillows soon littered the floor, the couches and armchairs were torn up with slits from the blade. Hermione gave out a yell from the burst of stressing madness.
She fell against an extremely destroyed chair, feeling sorry for herself like every other time. She had friends still, the adults. But were they really counted as friends? Were their comforting words used to just save another life, not to show their love to someone who they truly cared about?
"Who am I kidding?" Hermione muttered quietly, barely awake from the feeling of weakness.
Her eyes closed with a flutter, and she fell asleep.
VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV
Dobby was throwing her things eagerly into her trunk as Hermione brushed her hair. The depression had banished itself from her thoughts for a few days, giving her a chance to relax.
As she slowly ran the brush through her hair, she gave her reflection a soft smile. It was the day that she would be heading to Grimmauld Place, and her nerves just wouldn't give up. Hermione gave the brush to Dobby and put on her turtleneck sweater.
"Dobby, what if I changed my appearance?" Hermione asked the house-elf quietly.
"Young Miss, you is looking good the way you's is," Dobby replied earnestly.
"Yeah, but I don't have any friends now. And most girls would jump at the chance of a makeover," Hermione sighed.
Dobby gave a small shrug, then locked up her trunk triumphantly. Hermione waved good-bye as she headed out into the corridor, through the bustle of students. She hoped that she was unnoticed as she slipped through the crowd to the entrance hall.
She paid no attention to the pale sky overhead, nor to the cold breeze that made her fellow peers shiver and bring their jackets and cloaks closer to themselves. She entered a carriage by herself, and huddled beneath her cloak in the corner, hoping beyond hope that no one would enter.
She was not lucky.
One person came inside, glaring down any others who tried to entrance also, then closed the carriage door and allowed it to be taken down to Hogsmeade.
Hermione looked away from the window and glared in hatred at the thing that had dared to intrude in on her peace. He looked away in shame, but she did not pay any notice. Her veins burst with the hate that had spoiled her blood, from just looking at him.
"Get out, I don't care if the carriage is moving or not, just get out," Hermione muttered, narrowing her eyes as if daring him.
"I'm sorry, but-"
Hermione ignored him. "You have caused me enough torture. Or is that not enough for you?"
"I didn't mean it," Draco pleaded.
"Shut up! I feel so stupid that I actually fell for your cruel joke! Gods, I feel like a moron!" Hermione groaned, putting her face in her hands.
"Please, understand," Draco whispered, scooting towards her as she cried.
Hermione leaped away from him, seating herself as far away from Draco as possible. She glared at him with anger and disgust.
"You think that I am idiotic enough to fall for that? Do you actually assume that I will cry into your shoulder, so that you could have one up on me? I hate you! I hate you so much! Just standing there with your whore as they tried to kill me! Not giving a damn!" she yelled.
He opened his mouth but she cut him off. "Don't even try! I thought I actually had a friend! When I woke up, I saw my world completely different! I was actually happy!"
Hermione kicked the seat, intentionally damaging the wood also. The carriage stopped, and before he could utter another word, Hermione stood up and slapped him hard across the face.
Feeling as angry as ever, she stormed out of the carriage and onto the train, pushing past anyone who stopped and stared. She got onto the train and entered the farthest compartment in the back.
Slamming the door shut, Hermione sat down angrily onto the seat, and curled up into a fetal position, crying with a newfound bitterness. No one dared to enter, after seeing the red hand print on Draco's face.
VVVVVVVVVVVVVV
Hermione clambered out onto the platform, feeling weak, her limbs shaking as she looked around for the Order members. Harry, Ginny, and Ron were heading toward a small group of people, who she guessed were the ones she was looking for. Trembling, Hermione brought her cloak tighter around her body and walked over to them.
They just stared as she stopped and looked at the ground, avoiding everyone's eyes. They had all been there at the attack, and it gave Hermione a greater feeling of dread.
They silently walked out the barrier, Hermione making sure to avoid the other three, she could already feel the depression coming on. Everyone filed into the ministry car that Dumbledore had managed to get.
Hermione sat in the corner, by the window, staring out at all the people that the car passed. Everyone snuck a glance at the girl that stared out the window, a sort of longing evident on her features.
The tension in the car thickened as Hermione stared out, feeling the stares of the occupants, and she just wanted them to talk or something. A straight lock of hair fell into her face, but she didn't move it away, there was no point.
She was the last to exit the car, hating herself for being so self-pitying. They entered the house, and Hermione was lead to a different room than where she used to stay. The room was bland and plain, chipped gray paint covered the walls, the bed looked like it was one minute from collapsing, and an old dusty mirror sat in the corner.
Molly set her trunk down in front of the bed, and smiled warmly at Hermione, who just responded with an absent nod. After the door closed, she walked over to the mirror and stared at her pale reflection.
Hermione nearly jumped as the mirror spoke to her.
"Dear, your so pale and thin," the mirror tutted.
"I suppose," Hermione murmured, taking a few steps away.
"Hmm," the mirror just sighed.
Hermione went back to her bed and sat on it, alone and unaware of her surroundings. Her mind wandered through the many emotions she was currently feeling, and it was all too much to sort through.
"I hate myself," Hermione fell back on the bed, closing her eyes tightly.
"Dear, your so beautiful though. Anyone would envy that long hair, and that marvelous hair color," the mirror replied sweetly.
"I hate being me," Hermione seethed, ignoring the mirror's comfort.
"Don't beat yourself up, hun," the mirror retorted, yawning.
"I want to change, for absolutely no reason at all! Change my whole appearance! I am so stereotypical!" Hermione moaned irritably.
v
"Dear?" the mirror questioned.
"I don't want to be supposedly pretty," Hermione told the mirror, getting up from the bed, and tugging at her long hair as an indication.
The mirror didn't reply. Hermione sighed deeply, walking over to her reflection angrily.
"I have no idea why I'm still depressed! Why? I got the sympathy! I just don't know why I have to be so self-obsessive! Crying over my own faults!" Hermione screamed, feeling so angry, her body trembling.
"Why are you so angry?" the mirror asked soothingly.
"I have no idea!" she cried, leaning against the dresser for support.
"I'm sure there are many people who care for you," the mirror said.
"I just don't want to be me. Have you ever felt like being yourself was too much? I don't have any parents, I have millions of enemies, I was practically killed by nearly three hundred people or so!"
Hermione sat on the floor, sobbing. It was way too much to take in, and now that everything had been admitted, realization finally hitting her with all the horrible facts. She just couldn't take all of it, it was all way, way too much.
"Why did they have to go? I need them so much and their gone," Hermione mumbled, resting her head on the wood, trying to sort out her thoughts thoroughly.
The room went into peaceful silence, Hermione brought her knees to her chest as she tried to think. Then, an idea came to mind.
Immediately standing up, Hermione ran to her trunk and got out her wand and her knife. The mirror gasped, but she ignored it. Walking to the mirror, Hermione took the knife to her hair and cut it so that it was two inches above her shoulder. She then took out her wand, remembering the mirror's words. No more "beautiful" long hair. No more of that "lovely" hair color.
Saying a few well chosen words, she let her hair turn black, not caring that it was permanent. Her mind was not functioning properly, and she was acting through anger and sadness. The mirror gasped dramatically once more.
"Dear! What have you done to your hair?" the mirror asked in shock.
"Just what needed to be done," Hermione replied, a twisted smile haunting her lips. She looked at her reflection, and nodded. Pleased.
Throwing the knife across the room, the wand lying unnoticed on the floor, she walked over to her bed and lied face down. No more tears, no more tears, her mind repeated the words over and over again.
"Who's occupied this room?" she asked the mirror, her voice muffled by the pillow.
"Only one person, she was bit unusual though," the mirror replied sadly.
"Who?" Hermione inquired, sitting up and looking over at the mirror.
"Bellatrix, I believe, she stayed over during the summer or winter occasionally," it answered.
"Did she leave anything behind?" Hermione asked, interested.
"Yes, some of those mutilated dolls of hers, hair brushes, makeup, a few clothes, a few letters, and that's it," the mirror replied.
Hermione jumped up, "Where is this all?"
"Some people came in to clean up the room, but no matter how many times I told them, there was a loose floorboard they had forgotten, they ignored me," the mirror gave an indignant huff.
"Where?"
"Under the bed."
Hermione ran over to the bed, pulled it from the wall, leaving it in the middle of the room. She immediately moved to the floor, pounding down on each floorboard. This was the most interesting room that the Order members could have chosen for her. When she found the correct floorboard, she lifted it up and gasped when she saw a small box inside.
"Brilliant," Hermione breathed as she took it out and put the floorboard back.
The box was filled with parchment, little kits of makeup, disturbing figurines, hair things, jewelery, and some folded black clothing.
v"I wonder if she'll mind if I keep all of this," Hermione wondered aloud.
"From what I've heard she's a crazy murderer, so I don't think she'll mind at all," the mirror stated.
"Great! I don't know why, but I now feel so much better," Hermione sighed, holding a black long sleeve shirt with a red lace-up over herself.
Hermione threw her cloak off, took her sweater and shirt off, then put the older shirt on. She walked over to the box and took out a long black skirt, that looked a bit torn up, but intentionally. Putting that on too, Hermione admired her reflection, finally happy with what she saw.
"What would people say, knowing that a muggle-born was trying on Bellatrix Lestrange's clothes," Hermione smiled faintly, the excitement lifting her mood dramatically.
Putting her boots back on, she went over to the box and took out all the makeup. Eyeliner, dark crimson blush, and red lipstick, Hermione was amazed at how gothic Bellatrix was.
"Am I being too dramatic with this change?" Hermione asked the mirror uneasily.
"Of course not, everyone wants to change once in a while."
"Yeah, I just really hate myself," Hermione muttered.
"Save the makeup for later though. Until you know how to use it," the mirror suggested.
"Good idea, it'll be enough of a shock with my hair and the clothes... Gods, look at me! My parents would be so disappointed," Hermione kneeled onto the floor, staring at herself suddenly in horror.
The mirror didn't reply, to which she was grateful. How could she have cut her hair like that? It was still straight, but it was so short. She was wearing some Death Eater's clothes and she was trying to wear gothic makeup. Why did she have to go through with her mad intentions? Hermione let a tear fall down her cheek, feeling disappointed in herself.
The door suddenly opened, making Hermione jump from the floor in surprise. Molly was standing there, gaping at her in shock.
"D-dinner's ready," Molly stammered, before turning away and closing the door.
"Go eat, you need the nutrients," the mirror reassured her.
Hermione nodded emotionlessly, and walked to the door. Opening it silently, she crept down the stairs to the kitchen, feeling the dread as strong as ever. She opened the kitchen door, unnoticed at first (Molly was standing at the counter, still in shock), until they all looked over toward her at once.
[A/N: Read my author page please for info, sorry it took so long for me to add the new chapter (lack of inspiration), and please review! Thanks for reading the story I currently dislike! No offense intended!]