"Hey Mione," Harry said with a smile as he slid into his seat next to me in Charms. Looking up I threw a quick smile his way before I returned to scratching at the soft wood of my desk that held scratches from years gone by. "Malf- Draco comes out the hospital wing tonight doesn't he?" Harry questioned softly as he unpacked his book onto the desk. Startled by his use of Draco's first name my fingers froze on the desk and I slid my eyes towards him.
"Yeah he does… How'd you know that?" I asked.
"I went and spoke to him yesterday while you were in the library," Harry said with a shrug.
"So that explains you being angry with me last night," I sighed, finally understanding why Harry had pitched a fit in the common room causing our subsequent silent treatment all day.
"It's not because of Malfoy… How could you not tell me about your parents?" Harry breathed under his breath as Flitwick stood to begin his lecture. Time stood still as pain and guilt pulsed through my psyche and with a snap I realised that I'd pressed my fingers hard enough into the wood at the edge of the desk that I had managed to tear at a weak corner. With a swift motion I swept my books into my bag and made to stand only Harry's hand came down hard on my wrist, clamping me in place unless I wanted to cause a scene. "Stop running away Hermione… You're stronger than this," Harry whispered.
"Let me go Harry," I breathed, biting back tears as I tried to stop the onslaught of memories. Harry's emerald eyes searched mine and when I saw pity colour his face I welcomed anger in the place of sadness. With a light stinging jinx Harry released my hand and I fled for the door without a backward glance.
I marched through the school easily, clenching and unclenching my hands and before I knew where my feet were leading me I found myself at the room of requirement and I threw myself into the room it provided. In the middle of the room was a single black punch bag while to the side was a comfortable black sofa and a coffee table that held a small ashtray. Dropping my bag on the floor I shucked out of my robes and walked up to the punch bag calmly. Then with a speed I didn't even know I possessed I punched the bag and watched it skitter back. Laughing darkly I let all my anger flow freely and laid into the outlet the Room had provided me with. I let out all the anger I felt at being a child in an adults war, the anger I felt at the drunk driver who had hit my parents, the anger I felt at myself, at Voldemort, at Bellatrix, at every-fucking decision I'd ever made that contributed to how I got to be the woman I was now.
As my mood got darker the punching bag morphed into a humanoid shape with a Death Eater's mask and I accioed my wand as I advanced on it. Punching was not enough and as my wand slashed through the air the dummy was cut to ribbons and repaired, blasted to shreds and repaired, decapitated and repaired, until I wished it could feel pain. I felt something acrid on the back of my tongue and I felt this new darkness build up inside me then suddenly the word was on my tongue.
"Crucio," I breathed. A jet of red light left my wand and the dummy flew back against the wall and writhed like it was in pain… It wasn't enough.
I felt a hand clamp over my wand hand and I whirled on the intruder to my darkness.
"Stop," Draco whispered. His grey eyes were wide, scared and my wand dropped from my hand as I realised how far I'd gone. Then I crumpled as I burst into tears. Draco caught me and carried me over to the sofa where he held me and shushed me as I cried.