Title: Outcast

Summary: Love is like riding a broomstick. Some people are addicted to it and others just can't seem to get the hang of it.

Disclaimer: I probably should come up with something original here. Best I can do right now is "no I don't own anything" though. I'll save the good stuff for this chapter (hopefully).

Chapter 4:

She tried hard to come up with an excuse. I fell through a window. What, like repeatedly or something? She could hear his voice in her head, sounding disbelieving and somewhat sarcastic. Besides, if that had happened there would be scratches and scars all over her arms, not just neat little lines. I just woke up like this one morning. Ow yeah like that would be so believable. No. No matter how much she tried to, she couldn't come up with a plausible explanation. Other than, I feel so miserable and alone and I love you and so I'm cutting myself, which was the truth, but she would never admit to that.

Instead of speaking she just yanked her arm back, which caused her to whince once more, and hid it safely under her robes where it should have stayed in the first place. It was all covered up now. Nothing to see. Nothing to worry about. She was fine. No better than fine, she was perfect. Wonderful. Oh god she had to run now. Run far far away until he could no longer look at her and see her perfect mask crumbling down until she would be naked in the dark.

He just stood there. Why was he still standing there pretending like he cared? Like it mattered? Why did he look at her with something that vaguely resembled concern? He shouldn't look at her like that. He couldn't look at her like that! It didn't match the emptiness and desolation she felt. It didn't correspond with her world view, a world in which she didn't matter and everybody hated her and had loathing in their eyes whenever they saw her passing by! He couldn't be like this and just defy everything that made her find solace in hurting herself! If it could, then why had she started it in the first place? Hadn't she realised that there was no other way out?! Hadn't she ensured herself that nobody cared?

She had to crawl back. Had to break this enchanting moment and go back to the truth and the time where everything made sense. This didn't, no matter how much she wanted it to. Everybody hated her. Everybody. Ron had been the one to start everything. Ron hated her. He hated her. She loved him and he hated her.

It was hardly visible to the outer world, but she shut herself off once again. Ron, who had known her once like no other person had, could see the spark disappearing out of her eyes. He could see her features changing ever so subtly, and her posture slightly slumped. And then she ran. She ran like You-know-who himself was behind her. And god knows why, he wanted to run after her. Find her. Make sure she would be alright.

But he couldn't. Ginny stood there, watching him silently. He couldn't betray his kidsister, whom he had seen crying her eyes out. He couldn't hurt the little girl that had been cradled in his arms, sobbing uncontrollably. Seeing her, looking so fragile while trying to stay calm, made him remember exactly why he hated Hermione. He tried to recall this intense feeling of anger, tried to hate her like he had done before. He failed. As soon as his anger flared up inside he saw the marks on her arm. Marks he knew he was responsible for. Little cuts she had made with every comment he had thrown her way. Ugly girl. One scar. Little bitch. Another scar. It made him feel like vomiting.

Hermione sat inside of her room. Watching the mirror she'd fixed with a simple spell. Watching herself, like someone else would have done. Was this how the outside world saw her? A witch, once smart and strong, now crumbled down and crazy? Was this how she would be? She didn't want to be like this. She wanted to be new. Pure. Clean. She wanted the scars to vanish, her memories as well. She wanted to be different. Not like she was before, not like she was now. Not better, not worse, just different. Or maybe she just didn't want to be at all anymore.

Just floating. Floating again like she thought she had been before when she had fallen. She wanted to stop existing, to stop feeling and hurting.

When she looked at herself in the mirror again she noticed a small razor in her hands. A fresh cut on her arm. It scared her. Had she done this? Unconsciously? Was she really this far gone? The blood that trickled down her arm was no longer warm and full of life. It was just blood. Red blood.

She felt empty. If only she could stop feeling empty. Ron had done that. Ron had made her feel alive and warm for just one second. When he had held her, before speaking, she had felt peaceful. Whole. Complete. She wanted to feel whole again.

If only she could ask for his help. If only she could admit to the scars on her arm, that they were a proof of her innocence. If only she could tell him the truth.

If only he would listen.

Review please!

A/N: I know that sometimes it seems like nothing happens in the chapter, but I want to write a story with a lot of insight into people's emotions and reasons for doing what they do, because I don't think a Hermione-cutting story could function without it. Or any story for that matter. People do what they do for a reason. I could write them sitting in class or whatever, but it wouldn't provide much insight, at least that's what I think. There will be happening more in the next chapters though. As you can see their fixed relationship is starting to change. Please review!