Fading to Insanity
Chapter 1: Sorrow

I look at him when he sleeps. He sleeps so peacefully, so very innocent. So very different from when he is awake.

I let my eyes wander over him. His head is on his pillow and his arms are under it. His blanket is only halfway on his body and I so yearn to cover him with it. The curtains on his bed are pulled back only up to his shoulders.

His breathing is shallow.

I worry about him. I always have. Ever since that day several weeks ago…

I had been out on the grounds of Hogwarts that fateful day reading Trials of the Century: Volume XXIII, leaning against the tree I always sit under, next to the Forbidden Forest.

I was waiting for him to come. We used to regularly watch the sunset together.

Usually, he is very punctual, always arriving on time. On that particular day, he was late by about thirty minutes. I was getting very worried, and so I abandoned my book and stood up to search for any sign of him with my eyes.

Suddenly, I was knocked over by a blow to the head. I reached back and felt blood. Scarlet blood, rushing down my hand, dripping onto the warm, moist earth.

A hand extended out from behind and started choking me. I struggled, clawing at the fingers and kicking back with all my might.

It was a hopeless exertion. The lack of oxygen to my brain stopped all futile attempts for my battle. I could feel myself going out of consciousness, my eyes rolled back into my head.

Feeling myself going limp, I tried one last time to break away by hitting the person holding me with my hand.

Surprised by my endeavor, the murderer momentarily lost grip on me. I attempted to get away, clutching my throat with my left hand at the pain shooting from it. I couldn't run; my bloody hand dragged on the soil as I tried to crawl away.

The hands were back on my throat again, and this time they did not fail. Within moments, I took my last breath.

I always wanted to be the best at everything, to fulfill my life's desires so that when I left the world, I would have no regrets.

My wish did not come true. I never knew that my life would end so abruptly, and so cruelly.

My murderer was never caught, but I know a few people had suspicions as to who it was.

I don't care for the identity of my murderer. No, I just didn't want him to find me.

After I died, I floated above my body, and as I peered down upon it, I couldn't tear my eyes away.

The blood from the blow flowed freely down my head and lost itself in my hair. My normally brown locks were shockingly mixed with a vibrant crimson, quickly hardening as the wind blew.

Just then, I saw movement coming from the vicinity of the two great big doors that kept guard of the students.

It was him.

I saw him running down the stone steps and across the grounds, occasionally tripping over stones and such.

But suddenly he stopped. And at that moment, I knew he saw me.

"Oh, no… no.. no no no…" He was soon near my corpse. "No, Hermione… no."

He started caressing my cheek, and at that moment, I realized he was crying. Funny, I had never seen him cry before.

As the tears glistened down his face, he hugged my corpse closer to his body. I noticed his hand was in my hair, and that his cheek was smeared with my blood.

I will never forget that moment.

I come back to reality and now notice that his usual rhythmic breathing has become a bit erratic. He will wake up soon.

I don't want to leave him. I never do, but I'm not ready to face him; I'm not ready to face the school.

As the sun's rays pierce through the open window, I give him my farewell.

I reach down and motion to touch his shoulder. It falls straight through him, but he is not roused by it. Of course, as I leaned back with a mixture of anger and sadness, he can't feel it.

There is movement from the bed and I quickly become invisible, just before he cracks open his eyes.

He used to be so energetic in the mornings; now he is only a shell of his former self, he never wants to leave his bed in the mornings.

At long last, he pushes the curtains back on his bed and stretches as he stands up.

A mirror hangs next to his bed, and at first he glances at it, but then he glares as soon as he looks out the window. I also see his frown. His morning has already been ruined by the beautiful day.

Here, I leave him. I too must get ready for the day, and I also want him to have a little privacy away from me.

When I reach the Great Hall, the tables are filled with food; laden with porridge, toast, and fried tomatoes.

I soon find the Gryffindor table and sidle near, and take a seat next to Harry and Ron. They don't notice me, as I'm still invisible. Actually, no one knows that I'm a ghost yet except the Bloody Baron and Nearly Headless Nick.

Harry and Ron talk in a low murmur with their eyes downcast as they continue to eat. In fact, Harry is nibbling the end of a toast as Ron ladles his spoon with some porridge. Neither eats very much; their appetite has diminished somewhat after my death.

There is a loud resounding noise from the entrance of the Great Hall and every head turns toward it. It's him.

Fuming, he walks toward his house's table and takes a seat. The other students take pity on him; it's all in their actions. Some of them cluck disapprovingly at him, the others just shake their heads. He hates that – I can see it in his eyes – there's a little bit of anger, the only real time he shows his emotions nowadays.

I guess some things have improved somewhat at the school. The inter-house unity is loads better, with Harry, Ron, and him in the lead.

As the bell rings for classes to start, he stands up from his table and walks side by side out the Great Hall with Harry and Ron.

The professors never thought they would see the day that Draco Malfoy would walk together with Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley without throwing nasty insults at each other. But this wasn't a normal circumstance.

One-third of the trio was now gone, and the brightest witch to ever walk through the halls of Hogwarts was dead.

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Hello, all.. it seems that you finished the first chapter! Haha.. don't worry, this will definitely continue, but I want to know what you guys think first.

Please review or e-mail me to tell me what you think. I love constructive criticism, as long as it's not:

I hate the story.. it sucks…

And that's all you decide to enlighten me with. In case you did not know.. that's not constructive criticism. Constructive criticism is when you give the author ideas on how to make her story better.

In case you were wondering, YES, I do switch tenses, but if you read closely.. it's supposed to switch tenses.

Disparaging Intellect