Chapter Four:
"Can we get the chemicals in?
Cause anything's better than this.
Mix it up with vicadin,
Cause anything's better than this.
Little cuts on your wrists,
To try and get back the feeling.
And no real friendships exists,
Cause that would be an understatement."
Company, Third Eye Blind

The sink was stained red but she was clean again. She had changed into another nightgown and threw the other out. The sheets on her bed were tucked away, nice and neat, making it look like glass. The only creases on the sheets came from where she sat, waiting for the potions master to appear to give her the sleeping potion. Her hands were clasped in her lap as she starred out into the darkness of her room. She had been waiting for a while now.

The soft tapping on the door began and she stood up, crossing the room and opening the door. Severus Snape stood there, his face stone and expressionless as he held out the bottle, a special mixture of sleeping draught and laudanum. She took it from him slowly, looking down at the bottle and not at him. "It's enough to last a month. Take a tablespoon before you go to bed. No more or else you might not wake in the morning. Understand?"

"Yes, Professor," she whispered, turning around and walking back to her bed, placing the bottle on her nightstand before pulling out her wand and transfiguring a quill into a spoon. Severus still stood in her doorway, watching her intently as she poured the potion gingerly, swallowing the sweet, sticky, mixture. She capped the bottle and put the spoon down on the nightstand, taking a deep breath. She stood there for a while, her mind empty except for the little voice at the back of her mind which asked why Severus was still standing in her doorway.

She heard him heave a sigh, a sure fire sign that told her he was tired. One that told her he was tired of everything. He was being worn, torn in two. Two sides, both of which wanted to have claim over him. She heard the swish of robes which was fallowed by the click of her door. "Goodnight," she whispered to the empty room before climbing back into bed, closing her eyes, wishing for better dreams.

"God! Aren't you even trying?" Ron whined as he once again beat Hermione at chess. Yes, chess happened to be the one thing that he was excellent at but Hermione was smarter than anything. Chess should be something trivial for her, not something she lost at every time to him.

"Yes I am trying, Ron. You are simply better at chess than me," Hermione stated, crossing her arms over her chest as she looked at him. Ron's eyes widened as her put his hand over his mouth in mock shock.

"Oh my god! Did Hermione Granger just admit that I am better than her? Do my ears deceive me?" Hermione glared at him as she stood up from the chess table and walked across the empty common room to the bookshelf. She pretended to scan the spines of the books as she pulled out a random book. She felt his arms wrap around her waist, pulling her against him. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing Ron? I'm reading this book," she stated, her voice caring an annoyed tone. She heard Ron chuckle deeply in her ear, telling her that his head was next to hers, looking down at the book.

"I don't believe you. That book is porn," he stated, a goofy grin spreading across his lips. Her eyes widened as she read the first sentence. She had accidentally taken off one of the erotica books that some of the girls left in the common room by accident. She could feel a blush creeping up her neck, rushing up to her cheeks. His grip on her tightened, his lips dancing across her neck. "Do you read erotica, Mione?" he asked seductively. Flustered, she put the book back on the shelf before pulling away from his all too welcoming grasp. She could hear him laughing lightly, could tell that he was fallowing her, gliding across the room with grace that had never been seen before.

Soon, he was on her again, holding her up in a corner, blocking all escape ways as he put both hand on either side of her head. "Why are you running away, Mione?" he whispered, dipping his head to her neck which he nipped playfully at. She felt her eyes roll back up into her head. A moan sounded through the room, though who's moan, she didn't know. His hands were caressing her now, memorizing each dip, each curve of her body. "I need you Mione. I need you, want you, love you so much," he breathed huskily into her ear, gently nibbling at her lobe as she pulled him closer to her.

The portrait opened and Ron quickly stepped away from her. They both looked to see that Harry had entered. Harry looked over, finding them in the corner of the room, in a dark away where couples usually went to when they wanted some 'alone' time. He quirked his eyebrow up at his friends in question. "What are you guys doing?"

"Oh, you know, stuff. I was showing Hermione this crack in the wall," Ron stated, pointing to the wall as if there was one.

"Impossible! Hogwarts A History clearly states that the common rooms of each house is impervious to crack," Hermione stated immediately out of habit. Ron smiled, figuring that his lie had worked. Harry however wasn't buying it one bit.

"Yeah. Sure. Why don't you two just get together already?" Before either Ron or Hermione could object, Harry was bounding upstairs to the boys dorms. Ron looked back at Hermione, shrugging his shoulders as he shoved his hands into his pockets. The moment was gone. He knew very well he couldn't pick up where they had left off, no matter how much he wanted to.

"You know, Harry's right. Why don't you want to go out with me, Mione? You know we're perfect together." He reached out, going to caress her cheek but she moved away, towards the girl's dormitories.

"You know why Ron. I don't want to risk our friendship. It's too important to me." With that, she raced up the stairs away from Ron. She still caught the last words on his lips before she reached her dorm room.

"But I love you."

Hermione awoke an hour later than usual. Luckily for her, it was Saturday, therefore she had no classes. The clock blinked nine at her as she turned over in bed, sitting up and looking around the room. She dreamt of him. Sure, it wasn't a nightmare, but instead of being some random dream or fantasy in which he stared in, it was a memory. She looked over at the copper bottle and glared at it. It wasn't working, or at least not in the way she wanted it to.

Harry awoke to his scar burning more than usual. He clutched at his forehead while his mind raced as he tried to remember what he had dreamed of. But he could remember nothing.