No One
Summary:
No one knows my pain.
Hermione is breaking. Her friends have brought her to it. But there are none left to save her mind. None that are watching. Heavy angst. Features but not necessarily supporting: VK/HG, RW/HG, RW/LB, hints at HP/LL.
Disclaimer: Characters and places property of J.K. Rowling and co. I have no ownership except perhaps the plotline… is that ownable?
Hermione's eyes were glazed as she looked for the cat treats her mother had sent for Crookshanks. They weren't even that important to her, but she stormed around the common room, tossing books and furniture aside. "Where is it!" she screamed, thankful for her solitude in the normally busy tower. She knocked aside a wooden chair, and it rolled off, but she couldn't see it, or at least didn't notice it.
The wizarding radio was on in one corner. Hermione released a bloodcurdling scream that had built up and turned the music up so loud her torso vibrated. The screams blended in with the sorrowful, but loud rock playing.
No one hears me scream.
As if she was a whole other person, Hermione curled into a ball beneath the radio. It threatened to fall, making the small corning desk shake with a crescendo, but she paid no heed. All she could do was scream and let the tears fall down.
She finally calmed herself down to stop the screaming, but now was the true onslaught. Her voice choked and she could barely swallow. Only singing to the music kept her from falling down.
No one notices me change.
Another fight; another hurt; another pain. One betrayal, and then the next. She was used, emotionally and physically battered. Ronald Weasley. Optimistic, though paranoid, redhead whom many liked and had moved past her. She thought They had been over. Lavender… she had finally started to become friends with her. Sure, they were completely different when it came to personalities, but they could have a decent conversation. Then it was over.
It's amazing how people lie. They lie so you can be truthful. She always thought that lying would be punished. It was. She thought being truthful would pay off. It didn't. All the truth could do was hurt her.
No one cares about me as myself.
She didn't want that much. All she wanted to be the top of the list for someone. For one person to write her first as a friend. No "there was limited room at the function, and we didn't have room for you." No "Lavender asked me to go to another thing." No "sorry," no bended knee could replace caring. Harry… he moped, and he cared only about himself and his future.
There was something new there on The Sunday. She and Ron had connected for a moment, and she'd responded. God, she felt so used now. She wished she could purify herself, forget something she actually wanted to for once, but no. Hermione Granger doesn't forget. He'd live on without a thought to her, and she's still be reliving The Sunday.
No one can remember what I can.
It was stupid really; he was winning. He wasn't even trying, either, just by pure memory he was able to destroy her. She'd worked hard for the precarious balance in her mind. And then he'd disturbed it all, using her.
It had begun with Viktor. She supposed Ron had a right to be upset with him—not that she'd tell him about it. She'd tried, but he hadn't been receptive. She had been so thrilled when Viktor paid attention to her, that all thought of warning had walked away and left her naïve. It seemed so odd to her, now, that being such a suspicious person never ended up helping her.
No one can help me.
He'd done everything right. To tell the truth, both of them had. He'd lulled her into a sense of security. She had even defended Viktor against her friends; she'd stuck up for him. Then, at the end of the year, he'd said he wanted to help her. Perhaps, she considered, that was why she'd never told anyone. Hermione still believed him. Despite the repercussions, he might have been only trying to help. He'd introduced her to this world of physical gain.
He'd said he'd teach her how to kiss. "Relax your mouth more when you kiss, Her-my-own-ninny." Then he moved on to more sinister, slutty topics. They were still replaying in her mind; she could never get rid of them. Oh, she was still a virgin, but that lesson on "how to be a good girlfriend and get yourself a boyfriend," had ruined the innocence of her mind. And people looked at her weird, when she went off talking about how important it was.
No one can save me from my mental memoir.
She'd forgotten once. All but the kissing lessons. She'd felt guilty at that, but when the summer after fifth year she brought it to her mind, she'd felt worse. Oh, people would say it wasn't her fault. She knew that, but little guilty phrases always stuck in her mind. She had already condemned herself.
She'd thought she was over it when she began to develop feelings more than just friends for Ron. Ron was safe. He was too nice to harm her, she thought. Oh, how she had been wrong. He, however, in his own sense, was innocent. The little condemning actions always wormed their way in her mind to torture her. He didn't know how much he'd hurt her, and that she still hurt.
No one can save me from my naivety.
Harry hadn't wanted to hang out with them that day. Not to be denied a Sunday, she and Ron went out across the lake, playing two-person tag and the likes. She thought he was free. He didn't take that impression out of her mind. So, she'd flirted all day, and they'd spent it with each other. That night, they fell asleep in the common room together—purposeful engineering on her part. Ah, the blame of such. When he woke, she was awake, watching him and his cute, sleepy behaviors. He'd smiled at her and for some odd reason laid against her. When he got up, she'd returned the favor, working her head up to rest on his shoulder. They'd cozied up like that and gradually it got more heated. Foot war, exploring, and farther than either of them had every gone before. Not even Viktor had done as much with Hermione in his 'teaching' as Ron got through passion.
She was still a virgin. No clothes had been removed other than socks. And like she had said no to further practical 'teaching' from Viktor, she'd stopped Ron from attempting to take her virginity with her clothes on. During a heated snog, during which she had positioned herself on top, she wondered aloud if they would be dating after this. It had been a joke, to say it aloud, as she assumed they would. He'd mumbled an "I suppose so." She didn't know that meant a no.
No one can save me from my drive.
Hermione always got what she wanted, one way or another. And she always lost it at the same time. She wanted academic success; Snape pulled her back from feeling the glory. She wanted a good relationship with her parents; she wasn't there to experience what she had. She wanted Ron; she got him for one night, not knowing he had a girlfriend. They had hid it from her. After what she know knew was a fake breakup, Ron and Lavender had controlled themselves around her. They said they didn't want to lose her friendship. And on that cue they lost it.
She's gone back to her dormitory, and that morning, in a rush with excitement and lust, had spilled it out to Lavender. It had started with a few cryptic comments, but by the time she'd thought to get suspicious of Lavender's interest, it was too late. In a moment, it seemed, Lavender blew up, telling everyone. People who didn't even know how to pronounce her name were slandering her. Oh, Rita Skeeter had done this as well, but Rita wasn't a friend. People said Hermione had had sex; she had committed against going that far at school. People said she did it to hurt Lavender; she always tried to be loyal to even minor friends.
No one saves me from telling the truth.
It died down. Ron and Lavender didn't break up until a couple days later, and even day it was only for a day or two. She was bitter. Hermione's friendship with Ron was all but nonexistent. She had comforted Lavender and Lavender had accepted her apology, and used her support. The issues faded away, and they thought it faded away with her. Hermione was actually okay; there was just shock. What people say about going through stages in a crisis is true. First, there was a tiny stage of denial. Then shock. And after shock, when she had become a minor character only there for apologies (every once in a while), came anger.
They were together, and their bond only strengthened with this problem. Hermione grew worse. She lashed out. She knew where to strike, and it was instinctive to use that knowledge about two weeks later. "Wouldn't it be ironic if I was with Parvati. Providing she was a boy, of course." In an hour the school thought she was lesbian (although no prejudice against those who are, she wasn't) and out to seduce Parvati. Luckily, no one told Parvati, as that would have been awkward. However, someone told her sister. Padma was always a different type of person. Lately, it had been shown that Padma fancied herself in love with Lavender. Having both a protective sense for her sister, and an obsession with Lavender, she verbally attacked Hermione, intruding on the sanctuary of Gryffindor Common Room. It turned into a screaming match.
No one forgives my wrath.
Ron had watched the whole time and slipped away, out the portrait, as an older girl broke us apart. We bother headed out the portrait. Hermione was headed to the library, and Padma was headed to Ravenclaw. It just so happens that the only way to get down to both is to go down the same passages. There was nothing the other girl could do but watch them as they left, making sure they didn't start up again. Some other girls joined Padma, and then Lavender herself came down to join Padma, which invited Ron to go with them. They walked behind me as she fumed, and she could hear laughs which reverberated off the empty corridors. They seemed cruel, and Hermione couldn't help but imagine them mocking her, telling more lies. They might have been. She walked onward, tears not falling only because of the fierce anger, and they laughed behind her; Padma getting all the support. Every one of their party went down the corridor to Ravenclaw but Ron. He told them he'd catch up and walked after her.
He caught Hermione a little later. Tired of always sitting around for him, she had kept walking, not even slowing, but he still had longer legs. She braced herself; she knew that this conversation was coming. She didn't brace herself enough.
No one cares for my sanity.
He, Ron, Mr. Subtly-Be-Damned himself, chastised her. She put on her defiant face, but he knew her too well, and was light enough to make it hurt the worst possible without making her blow up. And she would not cry in front of him. He told her that Lavender had been doing good, recovering from being depressed, and said Hermione had put her back over the edge into depression. He understood she would not apologize, but told her to be nice and to treat Lavender as if she was a porcelain doll, a beloved one at that. She called him on his hypocritism. He told her everyone had different levels of stress they could handle, and that hers was higher than Lavenders. She supposed it was a complement, but it wasn't pleasant to her.
When Hermione Granger sat down at the table in the back of the library, a couple tears escaped her eyes and hands swabbing them, and they burned angry paths down her cheeks. That was when she stopped caring for, and only hurt because of, Ronald Weasley.
No one can accept the real me.
Through this ordeal, Hermione became friends with Luna Lovegood. She protected her against insinuations in Ravenclaw House, but refrained from talking about the situations with her personally. They were a surprising match; Hermione loved hard facts, while Luna loved the abstract. But they were united by their love of knowledge, even if their beliefs in various beings differed. The first time, during the previous fiasco, that Luna sent Hermione a petition to get some obscure animal instigated as official, Hermione asked her politely not to send it to her. The second time, Hermione got agitated and gave a forceful no, and told Luna she didn't care about such stuff. The third, Hermione ripped the paper to shreds. The fourth time was three days Christmas Day and someone had set it with her growing pile of gifts, sitting on top, face up. Hermione grew very angry. Luna hadn't been talking to her much lately, taking to talking to Harry more than her. Now, she was sending her items that she knew Hermione didn't want. That was enough.
Hermione wrote a nasty letter that Christmas break morning. It didn't matter that she did that morning anyhow, as Harry, Ron, and Lavender were laughing away in the common room. She knew that as soon as she came down, everything would be tense. It always was. They never noticed she was gone anyhow. She told Luna that she would hex her if she got any more of these letters. Three days later, Hermione had a reply, and it didn't come through owl post.
No one accepts me as human.
"Miss Granger, may I speak with you… privately," the surprisingly hostile voice of Professor Flitwick called up to her dormitory. She came down in a red robe over her pajamas, and the short being walked over to a corner. One without the plush chairs. A radio sat there, turned off for the moment. "I have been informed you threatened Luna Lovegood. You could face temporary imprisonment for such, for your information." Yes, the petition had been the start of a very bad Christmas break.
Hermione explained the situation to the tiny Professor and argued her case. She was lucky; he would not tell her Head of House and he would have a talk with Luna. She wondered if the tears running down her face helped this proclamation. He informed her that he was glad he had decided on visiting her himself, and warned her against future threats. In his goodbye he seemed to tell her he was watching her, but Hermione was just glad he was gone. After clearing her tears, Harry came down. She never thought that was a bad thing.
No one understands how much they hurt me.
When Harry saw her, he opened his mouth angrily, and Hermione thought of fleeing. He cussed at her, telling her he had enough stress right now without her causing problems with all his friends. He cussed about what kind of person she was and she finally spoke up—the first time since he had begun ignoring and treating her badly. "Don't talk to me like that." He called her various things she never wanted to repeat and she found, to her amazement, her hand sneak up and slap him across the right side of his face. His seeker reflexes caught her with a return slap, but she was already turned and heading up the stairs as if it was what she meant to do all along. Tears streamed down her face as she heard him exclaiming to McGonagall "She slapped me!"
McGonagall told her that if she were an adult, she would have to be turned into the Aurors. Hermione nodded, seemingly unaffected as she reviewed her actions. She had stood up to Harry about his treatment of her. A sense of pride overwhelmed her, but it was followed by shame. She was losing all her friends. She didn't have anyone left.
No one sees my tears.
No one saw her tears for the next five days because they only come at night. She had already warded her bed so that she could study secret things in the safety of her bed, so nothing odd was noticed. She already knew that her face rarely gave her shadows beneath her eyes any more then there already was; she had gone many sleepless nights reading in the past. With each passing day, she lost herself more. She could barely get her winter homework done; rarely summon the energy to get out of bed before lunch. She relied on getting lost in the characters of a book to make it through the day.
When she was crying New Years Eve, no one came in. They were busy, as it was getting near midnight. Already the new year was going bad. She cried and listened to the radio, screaming along with the words, until she heard the five minute countdown.
No one sees me breaking.
She knew better than to let her classmates find the common room like this. She began to upright the chairs, clearing her mind. The hysteria of memories was gone, replaced by a cold numb. She was forgetting everything. She had stop caring about what she had loved in the past. At one time in her life, she looked ahead and thought of her future, but now she was too focused on making it through the day.
As she found the little box of cat treats she almost broke down again. She clenched her teeth and moved on, singing lightly to the music in a strangled voice. Convulsions hit her stomach, but she struggled and beat their attempts to dismantle her and sat down, awaiting the arrival of her classmates. The countdown ticked its final second and a single tear leaked down her cheek.
No one knows my pain.
And she whispered with astute knowledge and pain:
"I am broken."
A/N: Please review! Give me suggestions on editing, please,if you have the time. I'm debating on whether to change this into 1st person the whole time and also, if the reviews encourage me too, I'm thinking about writing a resolving sequel. Plenty of angst would be in that too, lol!