alone ;
disclaimer : I do not own harry potter. I own my stupid fingers for typing this.
recap : The moment she was out of the damned building, she waved her wand. The Knight Bus came roaring in its full purple glory, and she boarded the bus, ignoring the weird glances that came from the other people aboard because of her scars and bruises. Hermione paid sixteen Sickles, departed for Diagon Alley, the Leaky Cauldron, as she slept in the bed, trying hard to forget what had happened.
# chapter two
Hermione trudged out of the Knight Bus sleepily and into the Leaky Cauldron, where a strong scent of Firewhiskey flooded her senses and perked her awake. Might had she been successful in trying to get the rape out of her mind, it had all came back to her. How he tied her, how he stuffed her panties into her mouth, how he took away her virginity…it came freshly to her mind.
Any one noticing the little witch could had seen her face twisting with fear, perspiring and her eyes staring into blank space widening in shock. Tom came over, to see if she was alright, but the moment his fingers laid on her shoulder – Hermione drew out her wand and pointed at Tom's neck.
"Don't…don't…touch me!" Hermione screamed, losing all control. Her eyes were that of fury, of irrational anger. But after what she has been through, after what she had to suffer…there is a limit to what a sixteen year old girl can take.
However, unknown to Hermione, a pair of startling steel-grey eyes were watching her, sipping his vodka slowly. Yes, yes, she will be perfect…perfect for the Dark Lord's plan… he thought. The pain, the suffering she suffers…the emotional turmoil… it will be just perfect. Yes, her incapability to reach out to others, it would just be perfect.
Even though she was a filthy mudblood.
Yes, she would do perfectly well as a vessel for the Dark Lord's manipulation. She would do, as the one that can grant the Dark Lord the ultimate opportunity for revenge. But, how will she do it? Seeing her adverse reaction to men.
Fuck her, why must she be so difficult? The man thought. Fuck her…yes, that's it! Draco will learn to court her and fuck her…and so that she may turn to our side out of the love she has for him, the man, or better known as Lucius Malfoy, schemed. He finished his vodka, put down a single Galleon and left the Leaky Cauldron.
Hermione, on the other hand, had calmed down and went up to a room to think. Why had her mother let a stranger do such a thing? Even if she didn't love her, Hermione never thought that her mother would just let Jack do that.
Hadn't that woman have any feelings for her? Her child, who she bore for ten fucking months?
Hermione was confused. Worse then that, she was beyond confused. She felt as though she was a whore, a fucking slut – a cheap little girl who got her virginity taken away beyond her own will. Her mind pounded horribly against her, and a split avalanche of pain throbbed between her legs.
Oh my fucking ghost of Merlin, Hermione wanted to scream. She desperately wanted to scream, she desperately wanted to cry. All along, she wanted to save her first for Harry, the boy she loved since first year.
Harry. She thought, and she sobbed.
Harry. She thought again, and she sobbed.
She hated the world, why must the Fates be against her in such a way?
That she felt so helpless against them?
Her eyes traveled to her suitcase, and her mind wandered to what was inside there.
Her blades.
Her only form of solace.
She rummaged through her suitcase, through all her other stuff to find a box of razors. Her trusty ol' razors.
Hermione opened the box of razors, and there laid five thin blades of razors, one bloodied by the previous night. Hermione took out one, and laid the edge on her skin, taking in the marvelous sensation of the cold metal against her skin.
She plunged in the blade, and the blood came out almost instantly. That red, coppery substance which released all her emotions with just one simple feeling – pain. She drew the blade across her wrist, and felt extreme pain when she felt the blade cutting through her vein.
It was simply thrilling. How the pain was able to take away her thoughts, how the pain could wash away her guilt. She was battling Death, and she loved it.
As Hermione finally wrenched out the blade that was deeply in her flesh, the blood flowed endlessly. The world around her spun horrifyingly black, spinning around as though she was sucked into an abyss of never-ending darkness.
And as Hermione placed her blade into her box, the world seemed to darkened and black out.
Hermione fell with a 'thud' to the floor and the blood spilled onto the floor, staining the stone with a dark colour.
The blood spreaded out beneath her, as though she was a butterfly, a cynical dark butterfly – flying on the crimson wings of blood.
Whose wings, sadly, are about to be wretched from her back.
;triple hearts ,
Author's notes: thanks to those who reviewed, HopelessRomanticGoth, midnightwanderer01 and NO such things as HAPPY songs ; you really made my day ! Yes I think I will spin this story into a Hermione x Draco fic ;
x---. Sorry for the rather bad writing, exams had just finished and my brain is drained from over usage.