Disclaimer: Perhaps J.K. Rowling would let me BORROW the HP series but I seriously doubt it.
A/N: Okay here is the next chapter and Draco is coming very very soon!
Without a Home: Chapter 4
She wanted to go back. She wanted to travel back into the past; to a world that she used to know. She wanted to go back and change her life. She wanted to start life over again and never think about this life that she was living. Kill all memories of this life. Start a better one and become a new Hermione. She wanted to murder the Hermione she was now.
She wondered if it would be nice to kill herself. It wasn't like anyone would notice. No one would even care. There would be no funeral for Hermione because no one would come. No one remembered her and no cared about her.
Her heart filled up with loneliness and her eyes were filled with tears. Her mind seemed to constantly remind her of how alone she was. How unloved she was. No one cared about her and she had no one to talk to. She wasn't like her old Hogwarts friends, Harry and Ron, who always got their pictures in magazines.
She sighed sadly as she remembered the magazine. Now she kind of wished that she had saved it and read the other articles. She wished that she could have known more of what was going on in the world. Plus she could have saved the pictures of Harry and Ron.
Then Hermione had to mentally slap herself she wasn't a part of that world anymore. Why was she always forgetting that? She lived on the streets and belonged there. Forever.
Still she wished that someone out there loved her and cared for her. She wanted a cozy home with warm food. If only she had a bed with soft sheets. Clean clothes and showers every night would be simply delightful. She could have new shoes too. White shoes with no holes. Oh how that would be a life of luxury for her!
She shook her silly daydreams from her head. It wasn't like they would ever happen. They were just dumb fantasies of the mind. Dumb dreams that would never come true, yet she wasted away thinking about them. It was a sad life; a pathetic life. Had she ever lived any other kind of life though? Well once upon a time she had, but that was a lifetime ago it seemed like.
Hermione was giving up on everything. Everyday she gave up more and more. She was losing herself. She forgot to stand up and be strong. She couldn't get away. She was always thinking about yesterday. Always thinking about what happened in the past. Always thinking bad things.
She wanted to run away. If only she could run away, but where could she run to? There was no where for her. No where but the streets and she couldn't run away from the streets. Cause when you ran away from the streets there was more streets.
Hermione had a lot of problems. She could never find the reasons why. Why all of this had happened to her. Why her life was a living hell. She had no home. No where to go to dry her eyes or anyone to tell her it was okay. She realized all of this. She realized everything that was wrong with her and she thought about it too much. She never thought about the good in her just the bad. She always felt a strong sense of reject. Her heart was always filled with misery and her mind with loneliness.
You might say she was losing her mind because she losing all hope and faith in herself. She was forgetting to try and help herself in life. She wouldn't get better till there was enough good in her life. Till someone saved her. Like that would happen though.
During her time on the streets she amazingly had no trouble with anyone except for herself. She had never fought over something with another homeless person nor had she been raped or abused by some drunk walking around in the middle of the night. The streets were not safe places for anyone. Whether it was a teenage runaway or a drunk who wasted all of his money on alcohol and gambling. The streets were dangerous places. Full of violence, abuse, and pain.
Hermione had experienced a mental pain. A pain from within. A pain that was inside her head and her heart; a pain that was getting more and more swollen. Growing bigger and bigger on her inside. Other than pain she hadn't experienced anything else on the streets. Don't think she was lucky though.
She was always so dehydrated that she always had headaches. There were those cold nights that she just wanted to die right then and there. It was so cold that she couldn't feel her body and woke up in the middle of the night screaming because she was convinced that she was paralyzed.
Life wasn't good on the streets not good at all. Most people think about not having clean clothes when they think about the homeless, but the homeless think about food. They constantly think about food. They have to worry about where they might find their next meal.
She hated the days because they were full of hunger and depression. Full of dirty looks from the people she passed down the streets. Full of her body reminding her how sore and weak she was.
Yet the nights were even worse than the days. Her sleep filled of nightmares. Of when "it" happened. Full of that one night that changed her life forever. That one night when she lost everything that was dear to her. The night that Hermione died inside.
Hermione was walking down the street her hair hanging in front of her face in shame. In shame for what she was. For being homeless. Her head was low and she was bent over. She was trying to be invisible. To not be noticed by the people around her, but someone did notice her. Someone noticed her and was watching her from the shadows. If she had held her head up high and been more observant she might have noticed the person. She would have been safer if she had been paying attention to what was going around her.
As she past a dark alleyway she felt herself pulled into the alley roughly. She tried to scream, but no sound would come out. She kept on trying to scream and couldn't figure out why no sound was coming out. Then she realized there was a hand in front of her mouth. Someone had grabbed her out of the street. She winced as she felt fingernails digging into her arm. The person continued to burry their nails farther into her flesh.
"Shut up and do what I say and it won't hurt. At least not that much," A man's voice chuckled into her ear.
She shuddered as the words fell into her ears. She could smell his horrible breath. It smelled strongly of beer, yet she knew he wasn't drunk. God this person was doing this at his own will.
"Filth like you deserves to be used and broken. You are a virgin right? Well even if you are you won't be for long," he said shoving her to the ground.
She looked up her eyes wide with fear. Even though the man was only a few feet away from her she could not see his face. She couldn't see his hair color, his complexion, or anything that she could identify if she ever lived through this. Would she be able to live through this? Was it possible? Could she even get away?
That's what she needed to do; get away. Get far, far away. Yet fear paralyzed her and she couldn't move or get away. She couldn't budge. And all she could do was wonder why?