Til death do me apart…

Hermione has some problems, and when they cause her to be bullied by her fellow classmates, they multiply. Will anyone help her before it's too late? Warning! Contains eating disorder (anorexia) and self harm/self injury.

Hermione collapsed in bed exhausted after the worst day since she started Hogwarts. Malfoy had been bullying her the whole day, lots of his friends joining in, and no one had been there to defend her. She would have thought even if Harry and Ron ignored her, someone like Neville or Ginny would have helped out? But no. They pretended they didn't hear. Or maybe they didn't actually hear.

No one else was in the dormitories, everyone were down at dinner.

"I guess that's something," she said to herself, "no one here to make me feel worse." She curled up in a little ball and cried. She remembered how she'd been longing to go to Hogwarts, but now all she wanted was to go home. Her mum and dad nagged her about food constantly, but she realised now that was only because they loved her. They loved her enough not to give up on her when things got tough.

"Which is obviously something that can't be said about anybody at Hogwarts," she thought.

Or at least that's what Hermione thought. But in McGonagall's office, the normally so stern teacher was pacing restlessly around the room, mumbling to herself. In her hand was a photograph of Harry, Ron and Hermione in their second year. The photograph was courtesy of Colin Creevey (who else?), and she doubted any of the trio knew she had it.

She put the photo down, and took another one. This photo was of a girl around 14, in robes and a witch's hat. She was mounting a broom, and had a big smile on her face. Her long curly hair was black, and she was very pretty.

Tears started running down McGonagall's face.

Hermione looked at the time. Dinner would be coming to an end soon. She couldn't stand the thought that everyone soon would be returning. She crawled under the covers and screamed into the pillow. She heard a giggle behind her. She looked up and saw Parvati Patil standing there.

"What are you screaming about?" she asked scornfully.

"Nothing," Hermione lied, and turned her back on the gossip-loving girl.

"Fine. Oh just to let you know, Ron's dating Lavender now. I hope I can get my hands on Harry." Hermione scowled. She really didn't want to know this.

"I mean," Parvati continued, "I always used to think you'd end up with one of them, but it doesn't seem like that now, does it? It's funny, isn't it?" she said and gave a fake laugh.

"Hilarious," Hermione muttered. Parvati shrugged.

"Anyway, we're all going down to Hagrid's. Hagrid said to Harry to bring his friends up for tea. So me, Ron, Harry and Lavender are going. See you later. She walked out. Hermione snorted.

"I doubt Hagrid expected them two to come," she said to herself. It hurt though, that she wasn't invited. Well, Hagrid would have thought she'd come…and she knew Harry and Ron didn't see her as a friend anymore. But it still hurt. It hurt a lot actually.

Hermione turned on her back. It felt as if there was a beast inside of her, struggling to get out. She just couldn't lay still. Apart from her aching belly, it was something going on inside her, and she'd do anything to get it to stop. Suddenly she saw a little piece of glass laying on the floor, probably the remains of a broken bottle or drinking glass. She picked it up.

"This could be dangerous, someone could cut themselves on it," she muttered and went to throw it away. As she was about to drop it out of her hand, she stopped and looked at it for a second. Then, as if it wasn't her own actions, she pushed and dragged it across her arm. A small red line appeared and a few small drops of blood trickled out. It didn't hurt much and stopped bleeding very fast, but she felt relief wash over her. She quickly did it again. And again. And again. Soon she had several red lines, none of them bleeding much at all. She felt much better, it even seemed to help with her hunger.

Instead of throwing the piece of glass away, she slipped it in her pocket.

"Who knows?" she thought, "maybe this piece of glass cares more about me than anyone else."