Every Rose Has Its Thorn

Disclaimer: I do not own anything… yada yada, except for the idea and plot of the story. Oh, and the title of this fiction is taken from a song by Poison.

chapter1

Beautiful, delicate, enchanting, and mysterious… A rose is more than just a flower. Its picturesque elegance draws you in like a black hole of emotions, pulling you, holding you, capturing your every desire. Secrets are hidden behind every petal, and a mystifying power courses deep within its veins. This power is unchallenged but is greatly underestimated by all those who refuse to believe in it.

Every rose is pleasing to look at, but once its true essence is released, it can be used as the most powerful weapon; charming, seducing, enthralling its prey as if it were a lioness on the prowl… a golden lioness seeking refuge in the solace that is offered by her own misty emotions; her own dark pleasures… a zombie searching for the truth in herself; a shadow of what she doesn't know she can be.

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Hermione Granger woke up naked in a puddle of fresh, crimson-colored blood on the cold floor of the Head Girl's bathroom. Her head pounded and her body was sore, leaving a feeling of total apprehension and confusion hanging in the air as she realized where she was. She couldn't recall what had happened the night before, and why she was there, bloody and disrobed, in her own private bath. She massaged her temples gently as she pulled herself to her feet. A sharp pain shot from her back as if countless knives were being tried into it, so she walked up to the full-length mirror by the tub and turned around. The young witch almost fainted at the sight she met. An intricate design was carved into her back. It was of a rose. Bloody but beautiful, it made no sense to Hermione why someone would have done this to her; moreover, how they would have done it, and why she had no memory of this sickening episode would be more than baffling and frightening to anybody. A tear rolled down her cheek as fear started to set in. She didn't want to even try to imagine what else could've been done to her last night.

She curled up into a ball in the bath tub despite the painful sting her movements drew from her wounds. The warm water on her skin was comforting, but her mind was still clouded with unrest and helplessness at the thought of who could have done this to her, and why. She knew one thing for certain though—Harry and Ron, or anyone for that matter, would not find out about this. She would tell no one.

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Hermione hugged her books tightly as she made her way to her next class. All the corridors were jam-packed with students getting ready for the last class of the week, and excitement was thick in the air for the Hogsmead weekend they were going to have. She had been looking forward to that trip for over a month now, but all her enthusiasm seemed to have evaporated after that morning. Paranoia was setting in and suspicion was taking her over. She felt like all eyes were on her; all those cynical stares and sadistic whispers. They had been following her the whole day, and it was all too much for her to handle. She wanted to scream and hide in her dorm room for the rest of the day, but she knew Harry and Ron would come looking for her, and questions would follow. She was just about to break into a sprint when a cold hand came down on her shoulder. She turned around in terror and nearly dropped her books, but found that it was only Harry. His emerald eyes and warm smile were calming, and for the first time that day she felt at ease. She let her books fall to the marble floor and gave her best friend a big hug.

Shocked as he was by this sudden outburst, Harry returned the gesture, holding her a bit too tight. A soft whimper escaped from her lips. "What's wrong, 'Mione? Don't tell me it's nothing coz it obviously is something." Hermione just shook her head and broke away to pick up her things. "Come on," he pulled her up from the floor and held her by the shoulders. "Are you ok? You look like you just saw a ghost! Well, I guess that wouldn't be so surprising, but… oh, you know what I mean." He flashed her with a comforting smile, and she just nodded her head. She wanted so bad to tell him about it, but she could only imagine what he and Ron would doif they found out. No. No one should ever know about this; not one word will slip from her mouth.

They met up with Ron at the dungeons for Potions and sat together as per usual. The two boys were busy arguing about which store they would go first when they got to Hogsmead the next day that they barely noticed Hermione sitting quietly, alone in her own thoughts, and staring blankly at no particular spot on the table. Her mind was still misty and her memory of last night was still lost, but she couldn't stop thinking and worrying about what could've happened… and if it will ever happen again.

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What seemed to be an eternity later, the class was over and everyone had stood up to head on to dinner. She had been dazed out the whole time, not even able to take pristine notes like she usually does. She was like this the whole day, in all her classes. God, she needed to get over this... but how can one do that? Harry and Ron had just left her once again, but she took her time fixing her things, still lost in contemplation…

As she walked out of the dim, dank classroom, she didn't notice one gaze that did remain with her the whole day—one cynical stare; one mischievous, sadistic whisper of attention that was not a figment of her imagination. From a shadowy corner of the dungeon walked out a boy. Not just any one boy, but the very silver-eyed blonde playing a twisted game on the lioness, like a serpent slithering about a rose, tempting it, drawing it, seducing it to take a taste of his poison.

A/N: ok, uhm... i really want to make this more than just a oneshot, but i'm not sure how long it'll take me to find the inspiration. haha. anyways, please review! constructive criticisms and suggestions are greatly appreciated ; many thanks