Her limp body in his arms would have given him a feeling of satisfaction if he weren't head boy, and her unconsciousness were by caused by something other than cutting. Right now, things were serious, and while he'd love to leave her somewhere and go find Crabbe, Goyle, Blaise, and Pansy again, he knew that he needed to take action. He half carried, half dragged Hermione's limp body into the compartment in which he'd only moments ago enjoyed a snog session with Pansy. He had just propped her up onto the right side bench when her eyes shot open and she grabbed her arm, groaning.
"What are you playing at Malfoy?" Ron's voice threatened from the compartment doorway.
"Shut it, weasel. This isn't my doing, is it mudblood?" He knew that in this situation, name calling wasn't a very brilliant thing to do, but the last thing he wanted was an interrogation from the golden trio.
Hermione wanted to punch him, wanted to scream at him, wanted to murder everyone, but she couldn't. All she could do was keep herself from crying from the excruciating pain shooting through her arm due to her own self-inflicted wounds. Her blood caked hand squeezing her sleeve and arm only made a sickening squishing noise that openly bothered everyone. Ron and Harry stood in the doorway to the compartment that Draco had brought her into.
"I...I..." Her voice wavered, making her hate herself more.
She wanted more than anything to shut them all out, to close herself off, to be alone and go into the eternal slumber in which so much was unknown.
"Tell them," Draco hissed. His eyes showed little concern, but she knew that he felt a little responsible.
She squeezed her arm tighter, causing pain to shoot through her arm even more. She cried out and Harry ran into the compartment and knelt down in front of her.
"Show us," he demanded.
His green eyes were concerned, but Hermione didn't feel like complying to his demand. It was demands that made her do this in the first place. When someone asked you to do something, you had the power to say no. A demand was different. A demand made you feel obligated, trapped. That was it. That was how she felt. Trapped.
"No!" She shouted at Harry and stood up. "Blame it on him all you want," she said, releasing her arm and pointing a blood-caked finger at Draco. "But it's not just his fault. It's yours as well. I'm always being told what to do. Someone always has a new command for me, and I, being a loyal and helpful person, complied."
She was hurting them, she knew it, but she had to let it out, had to let them know how they made her feel.
"You," she turned on Harry. "Fifth year you ranted about how you were always the one who fought Voldemort and won. But guess what? Without Ron or my help, you'd have died every time, Harry. You aren't a miracle child, you need help too!"
Harry was taken aback. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again, fearing how enraged Hermione become.
"And you Ronald," she continued. "If you only knew how badly you hurt me. I dare say that you've hurt me more than this fat headed bloke could ever try to hurt me," she said, jabbing a thumb toward Draco. "All those arguments and accusations... do you even know how you feel? Or how you make me feel...?"
Ron was crushed. All those times he wanted to say what was truly on his mind was sky rocketing through his brain. He wanted to hold her, to comfort her and take away her pain. He wanted to be her everything and nothing, and yet, even now he was to afraid to confess it.
Tears now rolled openly down her cheeks. "Get out," she said flatly. Harry looked helplessly at her while Ron just stared at the floor in the compartment doorway. Draco only smirked. "I said get out!"
Harry turned and grabbed Ron and continued back to their compartment. Draco looked at Hermione, his smirk malicious after witnessing what he considered the first crack in the golden trio.
"Great job, mudblood," he said, walking toward the doorway. He turned to her once more. "There's hope for you yet." He closed the compartment door and went off to find his friends.
Hermione felt empty. The tears rolling down her cheeks seemed hollow. She'd confessed how she felt in the worst of company, and when she expected a reply from her dearest friends, they gave her none. She felt as if she was in a spiral of emotion, slowly spinning downward, toward certain doom.
When the train stopped a few hours later, Hermione had bandaged her arm and composed herself. She wasn't about to let her personal feeling and emotions get in the way of her duties as head girl.
Draco had opened the compartment door, expecting to see a bloody suicidal mess and was amused to see that she had regained her prissy self.
As much as she wanted everything to be normal, Hermione knew thatit wouldn't. She sat with Ron and Harry during the sorting ceremony, but there was a sad awkward silence that surrounded them. Ron's usual appetite seemed stifled and he poked at the meal that sat before him after the ceremony was over. Harry stared blankly at his crushed, red headed friend before him and fought back his own set of tears.
When dinner was over, the prefects of each house took each of the years to their rooms, while Hermione and Draco met up with the heads of their house and Professer Dumbledore. Dumbledore seemed tired, Hermione noted as his eyes met hers. "It is to my understanding that there was a turn of events on the train this afternoon that were rather... unsavory." Hermione let her head hang in shame. "Therefore, I asked our own Madame Pomfrey to make something to make such wounds heal faster," he held out a strange vial of a glowing amber liquid out to Hermione. She accepted it, looking at the headmaster with tears in her eyes.
"Now, I must be off to my study. Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, feel free to show them to their tower."
The climb to their tower seemed to last a lifetime. Neither Snape, nor McGonagall had spoken a word after the headmaster had left them. The silence didn't bother Hermione too much, it just seemed odd that the professers hadn't even briefed them on their duties, even though she already knew what her duties were.
Up and up they climbed, moving staircase after moving staircase, and it was at that moment Hermione began to wonder just how big the Hogwarts castle truly was. She tried to remember if it was mentioned in Hogwarts: A History, but no sooner had she begun to concentrate on all the facts contained within the large book's pages, had they reached the Head tower and the portrait that guarded the doorway.
Snape and McGonagall moved aside and Hermione peered at the portrait of none other, than Sir Cadogan, the very same portrait who had once protected, or at least had been appointed to protect, the Gryffindor common room when the Fat Lady had been attacked by Harry's God father, Sirius during their third year. Seeing Sir Cadogan brought back both good and bad memories that only added to Hermione's already somber mood.
"Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall spoke finally. "We trust that both of you know your duties as head boy and girl, therefore, we will leave you now... but first..." Professer McGonagall turned to address Sir Cadogan. "Do remember that passwords are not toys, you are not to change the password under any circumstances whatsoever due to boredom." Sir Cadogan bowed deeply. "Aye madam, know that this tower is safe! I shall guard it against any knave who tries to enter it without the password!"
Professer McGonagall smiled at the portrait. "I'm sure that you will. Blasphemous Scoundrel!"
The portrait swung open revealing a hallway. Draco walked forward into the hall, while Hermione watched the two professers leave, then followed after him.
The hall was lighted on either side by oil lanterns and was made of dark cherry stained oak. It opened into the common room, which was rather plain, yet elegantly decorated. A black couch covered in a synthetic velvet material sat in front of a fairly large fire place with silver and gold throw pillows resting on either side of it. To the left of the couch sat a large black chair that was covered in the same material as the couch. A lighter cherry stained oak coffee table sat in front of the couch. Beyond that, two small tables sat on either side of the common room against the walls. Spare parchment and quill containers sat on top of them. The one on the right was embellished in the Gryffindor symbol, while the one on the left was embellished with the Slytherin symbol. Wooden chairs sat next to the tables. A giant throw rug sat dead center of it all containing the Hogwarts crest. Beyond the tables on either side of the room, were two hallways. The right hall, Hermione assumed, was her own bedroom and lavatory, and the left hall was Draco's. Two spiral staircases next to their halls led upward in the tower to what appeared to be a small library as well as astronomy area.
Hermione made for her hallway, feeling overwhelmingly tired.
"Just where do you think you're going, mudblood."
"To my room, Malfoy, to sleep. It shouldn't be hard for a ferret to understand, but I suppose since you aren't a natural ferret it is."
"Don't forget who you're talking to Granger. I have some rather huge connections, so I wouldn't forget it."
"Are you threatening me Malfoy?" She enquired as she turned around, but he'd already disappeared down his own hall and slammed his door shut.