Disclaimer: I own nothing, just the plot. Song in this chappy is "Send in the Clowns" by Frank Sinatra. It's such a beautiful song, but kinda hard to find unless you have the CD.
Note: Sometimes it's really good to listen to the songs I have written in this fiction. The lyrics are the main reason why they're in, but sometimes listening to the song from a musical point of veiw, and putting it with what's going on... It's just beautiful. But that's just a suggestion. That's how I come up with the scenerios I put in here, just listening to the music. I have a great passion for music. Yeah, I'm babbleing... Sorry.
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Chapter Ten
Isn't it rich?
Aren't we a pair?
Me here at last on the ground,
And you in mid-air.
Send in the clowns.
Isn't it bliss?
Don't you approve?
One who keeps tearing around,
And one who can't move.
But where are the clowns?
Send in the clowns.
Just when I stopped opening doors,
Finally finding one that I wanted, was yours.
Making my entrance again with my usual flair
Sure of my lines, nobodies there.
Don't you love a farce?
My fault I fear.
I thought that you weren't what I want,
Sorry my dear.
But where are the clowns?
Send in the clowns.
Don't bother there here.
Isn't it rich?
Isn't it queer?
Losing my timing slate,
In my career?
But where are the clowns?
Send in the clowns.
Well maybe next year…She sat in the window seal, looking at the hollow world that had once again chewed her up and spit her back out. Her eyes closed and her arms hung at her side, letting the syringe fall to the ground and break into many small chucks. Her vein bleed lightly from where she had stuck herself, she could have stopped the blood flow and bandage herself, but she didn't.
Her mind was elsewhere. She allowed her eyes to rest on the Forbidden Forest not too far off in the distance. One blink, two blinks, three and then four.
Send in the clowns…The song played in her mind over and over as her mouth formed the words. Nothing came out of course. She could have wept, she could have called for her blade and cut herself to oblivion. Hell, she could have fallen out of the window, there was no screen to prevent it. But she didn't.
The drugs ran through her body, making her feel heavy, yet light all at the same time. Her existence was no longer there, she was no longer living. Her physical self sat motionless besides the movements of her lips.
She could hear the piano as if someone was playing it right beside her. It wasn't a far away sound, but instead crystal clear. The soothing voice of the singer rang in her head. Each word of the song had significance. It was about her, surely the composer had been thinking about Hermione Granger when writing this song. Surely he or she knew the events that would take place. They KNEW it! It was the only explanation for how each note, each word, each tune could relate back to her.
Hermione had heard this song many years ago. It sounded so melancholy and sad to her. She instantly fell in love with it, analyzing the true meaning behind the grief ridden language shared with the listener. Whenever overcome with too many emotions, and not enough will-power to just die, Hermione would shoot up her heroine heaven and play this song in her head. Once the drugs wore off, she would return back to her world numb and worn out.
She had to stop doing this to herself. If someone was to catch her…
What would they do? Send her to St. Mungo's? They wouldn't be able to do anything. It was already too late. They would pump her with their medications, give her their potions, and perform the spells on her. It would all end up for her just as it had with Draco. Useless.
She would be kicked out of school. That for some reason meant nothing to Hermione. She only kept with her outstanding grades to keep to her façade. What of her friends? That didn't matter. If they were to feel horrible about her and want to help… well that would be a first.
Maybe she should let herself get caught. Maybe she should get up and walk to class now, after just using, and let them see the true side to her. Instead she didn't. Instead she sat here, in her own little piece of mind. No one would notice her absence. Or maybe they would. Maybe they would notice and come looking for her.
These weren't the thoughts inhabiting Hermione's mind. No, they were far from it.
Send in the clowns…That was what she was thinking. The lyrics played in her head again. The song reengaged in her mind. She sighed softly to herself, closing her eyes hesitantly.
Pity.
Denial.
Very few people accepted reality for what it was. Neither did Hermione, but her methods of unacceptance were different from the average human being. She alienated herself from society's conforming ways of coping. She traveled her own dirt road.
That was a good way of thinking about it. A dirt road. It wasn't evenly paved for the convenience of others. Instead it was carelessly laid down, filled with bumps that could flatten any wheel. No one liked to use a dirt road. It was by far too messy. Stick to asphalt. Save your wheels.
Life continued at Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. That is, if you could call what Hermione was doing "living". Nothing changed. The corridors stayed cold and silent as winter approached. The first snow fell of the season, sending the students into a frenzy wanting to rum amuck outside.
Harry and Ron had eventually dragged Hermione among them. She had refused at first. She just wanted to stay in her room, or in the library, burying herself and her issues in each massive book, one after another, volume after volume. NEWTS were coming up this year. They were crucial for the lives of each individual and what they would be presented with in the future. Hermione could care less. Future? She had no future. But as expected, she played her role of mother, bothering Ron and Harry to the point of insanity to study.
Now she found herself outside, in the blistering snow, watching the two boys in a snow ball fight of the century. Regular muggles only had the option of rolling snow into a simplistic ball and tossing it to one another. Wizards however, that was a whole different story. With magic, the possibilities were endless. The boys used their wands to create giant snow monsters, attacking one another until there was nothing left. Hermione watched in fascination as how something so violent could bring so much contentment.
A small sight of blonde against black caught her eye. She looked over to find Draco, standing amongst the students in displeasure. Pansy was permanently glued to his arm as they walked in the snow. Though most of the Slytherins stopped viewing Draco as their prince and shunned him, Pansy still flung herself at every opportunity. She was too stupid to think anything bad against her precious Drakey Poo.
Hermione felt something at the pit of her stomach. What was that? Pity? Yes, pity. She felt sorry for the poor fool. She understood him better than he understood himself, and yet she was the one he chose to squash with the palm of him hand. She knew his motives, she knew why he had said what he had said months ago. He was scared, but didn't want to admit to it. He was starting to unravel from his world of chaos and see past the flaws, and it scared the shit out of him. People don't like change. When you get used to something for so long, changing it seems big and horrifying. That's why people hate moving to new places and experiencing different things. Everyone is happy with the world they create for themselves. How dare someone else try to come and fix it!
The two hadn't shared a single word in the past couple of months. Snape had paired them up several times in potions for projects, and they managed to complete it to perfection without saying a single word to each other. Not a single word. It didn't bother Hermione. As far as she could tell, if Draco wanted to stay in his catastrophic world, let him at it. He could continue to let life devour him bit by bit like she did. After all, Hermione had been hidden far below the ground than he had in the beginning, and still was. Let him suffer, it wasn't her problem.
Yet no matter how many times Hermione told herself this, she knew deep down she was wrong. He was her problem. His affairs affected her, just like hers affected him. She had gotten too involved with him to just back out like that. He could choose to run away, but she couldn't.
Yes, she had had her heart broken by Draco Malfoy, she admitted it. But she didn't succumb to it.
Hermione suddenly felt something cold and wet hit her face. She realized it was nothing more than a snowball thrown by Harry.
"Come in Hermione!" he shouted. His face was red from running around and dogging the snow heaved at him. His warm breath collided with the chilly air making it smoky and distinguishable. Hermione rolled her eyes and got up from her place.
Rolling a perfect ball in her hands, she flung it at her attacker. It missed him by inches. She felt another ball strike her back. Turning around, she saw Ron look away guiltily. She scoffed.
"Two against one isn't fair!" she said, putting her hands on her hips.
"You're a lot smarter than us, that isn't fair!" Ron rebounded.
Giggling, Hermione joined the guys in their snowball fight, pushing away her thoughts and feeling of earlier and completely ignoring the burning looks Draco was giving her across the field.
