A/N: this story takes place during 3rd an 4th year. i thought i would be a cool idea to create a story that went along with the books. So im gonna be useing some of the dialog from the books. hope u guys enjoy.

Disclaimer: It all belongs to the wonderful Jo Rowling.

Something not quite right about her, this girl, this third year of fourteen. Her friends are beginning to notice but unfortunately they are on the quite side with her at the moment. They haven't actually seen her too much lately as it is. She appeared to be avoiding the common room. Hermione's best friends figured she was hiding in the library. Not even once did they try to persuade her to come back. They don't talk to her as much for a reason, and a selfish reason at that. A stupid fight that's all it is. First over a possibly bewitched broom and then latter over a dead mouse.

FLASH BACK

"Still looks ill doesn't he?" Said Ron as they walked down the corridor, heading to dinner. "What d'you reckon's the matter with him?"

There was a loud and impatient "tuh" from behind them. It was Hermione, who had been sitting at the feet of a suit of armor, repacking her bag, which was so full of books it wouldn't close.

"And what are you tutting at us for?" said Ron irritably.

"Nothing," said Hermione in a lofty voice, heaving her bag back over her shoulder.

"Yes, you were," said Ron "I said I wonder what's wrong with Lupin, and you---"

"Well, isn't it obvious?" said Hermione, with a look of maddening superiority.

"If you don't want to tell us, don't," snapped Ron.

"Fine," said Hermione haughtily, and she marched off.

"She doesn't know," said Ron, staring resentfully after Hermione. "She's just trying to get us to talk to her again."

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Hermione continued her solitary march away from her once best friends. Funny, she thought , Ron always knows the exact think to say to up set me, weather its to my face or when he thinks I'm out of ear shot. She had heard his last comment. What reason do i have to lie to them. Why does Ron have to be so rude? Why does Harry alwaya have to side with Ron? Hermione found her eyes welling up with tears as she made her way to the girls bathroom on the second floor. The bathroom that only last year her, Ron, and Harry had brewed a pollyjuice potion (which had disastrous consequences for Hermione for the mere fact that she had new cat-like features for a short time after drinking the potion). It also was the same bathroom which was home to a very depressed ghost girl by the name of Myrtle. She had died in the castle over fifty years ago.

Hermione pushed open the heavy wooden door. The lavatory was a gloomy and depressing bathroom with a large, cracked, and spotted mirror over chipped sinks and flaked, scratched wooden doors to the stalls. This place suited her reason for coming here very much. Myrtle was no where in sight. Hermione was glad of that. Hermione dropped her heavy, now well organized messenger bag to the floor. A loud thud echoed in the empty room for a brief second. She cursed her self for tacking so many classes this year.

Hermione leaned against a wall for support, before slowly sliding to the bottom of the floor. She let her tears flow down her cheeks as she watched her bag absently. The small rip in her bag was growing from the amount of books, parchment, and note books it held. Not to mention quills, an inkwell and several things for potions class. She pointed her wand at he bag. Thread flew out of the tip and began to stitch its self into the material and mend the rip. It also held something very near and dear to her. Something she had had for years, since first year. But only now in these past weeks had it become important to her. It was a small knife, used for chopping or slicing ingredients for potions.

Afew weeks ago she had been distracted while she was using it in class and cut her finger. She didn't even notice at first. Hermione had just felt a small twinge at first, but the pain soon worsened. Her worries of class and work and grades and the time turner suddenly vanished. She was only able to look at the amount of blood coming from the gash. It felt good. Hermione remembered wanting to press the knife to her skin again, she was about to but Ron had noticed what had happened to Hermione. Snape soon noticed that two of his Griffendor student were not working. He soon swooped over, deducted some points, and sent Hermione to the Hospital wing. Hermione let madam Pomfery heal the wound but since then shenow cut her arms, just to release the stress of school. And now with her two best friends mad at her she needed more stress and emotional paintaken away.

After staring at her bag for quite a while she reached over and grabbed it. Hermione unzipped the smaller compartment and began to dig for her knife. She felt around for it touching small glass vials and feathery quills. Finally she found it, she grasped her hands around it and pulled it out. Hermione found her knife beautiful. It was all metal. The blade was smooth, with out any groves. Light bounced off of it and make a spot on the floor lighter. With it still in her hand she pushed up her sleeve, reveling pale, pale skin littered with many large and small cuts. Some were fading scars, others scabs, many were fresh. Hermione placed her knife to her skin and ever so slowly pulled it across he soft sensitive skin. Pain wonderful pain. Her thoughts erased. Her worries relieved as blood flowed and she cut herself again and again and again. Blood dripped slowly down her arms. Hermione stood up, feeling slightly feint, and walked into the nearest stall and grabbed some toilet paper. Sitting back down Hermione cleaned off the spilled blood and stopped the bleeding of the last cut. She tossed the bloody tissue into the garbage pail. Still sitting Hermione again reached for her bag. She put her knife back and grabbed a small tube of magic concealed. It was the same make up she wore every day. But this kind differed from muggle products. It didn't rub off clothes and it would make any unwanted blemish invisible for six hours at a time. It also worked of scars. Hermione applied it to her arms and the cuts vanished. As long as she had that and long sleeves no one needed to know about Hermione secrete.

END FLASH BACK

Hermione was still distant with everyone. Consumed with her classes, slowly she found she was collapsing under her stress. She was more irritable. If anyone disturbed her in the middle of her work they were likely to be verbally harassed. Her time-traveling and days that were longer than normal only worsened her fragile condition. Her habit was theone of twothings she felt she could relay on. Hermione also had visited Hagrid quite a few times. It helped a little, being able to talk to him about Ron and Harry and classes. He knew Hermione was really upset. But he had no clue how hurt and distressed she was. Every time Hermione visited him she made sure that all her cuts were covered, by magic or clothing. He knew nothing of her cutting.

Hermione sat in the common room working as usual, her books and papers spread out on three tables. At the moment she was poring through books and leagal docments to help Buckbeak's trial. It was extereamly hard to find thing that would help the hippergriff and Hagrid, but at least they will have something she thought. The portrait opened and Harry walked in. Hermione didn't look up. She heard a bit of commotion over near where Harry just entered. She looked over. He was holding his firebolt around a group of people with a smile on his face. Ten minutes or so passed before Harry and Ron made their way over to her.

"I got it back." said Harry, grinning at her and holding up the firebolt.

"See, Hermione? There wasn't anything wrong with it!" said Ron.

Just what I need now. My friends rubbing my face in I told you so's. Thought Hermione. "Well--- there might have been," said Hermione . The trio contended to talk. Ron left to give Scabbers rat tonic and put back Harry's broom stick. Harry and Hermione talked about her load of work and how she was managing it all. Finally ,Hermione thought, its all better. I have my friends back. That brief second of bliss was soon ended. Ron was running down the stairs from the boy dormitories. A pile of sheets in his hands. He strided over to Hermione and shuck them in her face. "LOOK," he bellowed "LOOK!"

"Ron, what----?"

"SCABBERS! LOOK! SCABBERS!" Hermione looked better at the sheets blood covered them.

"BLOOD! HE'S GONE!AND DO YOU KNOW WHAT WAS ON THE FLOOR"

"N--no," said Hermione in a trembling voice. Becoming more and more upset by the second.

Ron raised his clenched fist in the air and released it over the table. Ginger cat hairs floated down to Hermione's rune translation. He has no proof, she thought, those hairs could have been their since Christmas. For all I know he could have just plucked them off Crookshanks head. Besides Scabbers has been sick since the summer.When she told this to Harry he still sided with Ron. Leaving Hermione alone again. With her work and her knife.

A/N:yes its sad, poor Hermione. i'll try to update soon. plz review.ideas are helpful.thanks.