Hermione's POV

Everything was quiet when I got home. I went through the house, but Draco hadn't been anywhere in sight. I went into the library and shrunk and moved my desk into my bedroom, along with it's contents, and the pensieve. I next went back into the library, moving the shelves around to create enough space for a bed. I even went as far as, shrinking some of them and moving them downstairs into my living room.

When all of my cleaning, and rearranging was done, I went downstairs and finished putting all of the groceries away, only leaving out what I was going to need for dinner tonight. I had been out longer than I expected, and I didn't expect Draco to be too much longer.

When I had finished dinner, and it had been sitting at the table for two hours, I got restless. I knew Draco should have been back by now, and didn't understand why he hadn't been. I felt like an idiot. I sat up, casting a charm on the food to reheat it, and keep it warm for when Draco got home, and went upstairs. It seemed that with all the stress of moving things around and cleaning, I had forgot my desk had been in my room again. Compelled, I moved forward, opening the drawer. The dagger caught my eyes, and I was filled with so much pain at the thought of Draco doing what Ron did, that I reached down and took it out of the drawer.

Draco's POV

When I got home, it was much later than I meant to. It took me forever to find a furniture store, and then decided what kind of bed I wanted. I still never found it, but I settled with something. Then I had to figure out how to explain to the guy where Hermione lived, I eventually just shrunk everything, obliviated the guy, and apparated to the front door.

Everything was quiet, but there was warm food on the table. She wasn't there. It didn't look like Hermione had even touched any of it. I really didn't like the looks of any of this. I know how sensitive that she could be, and I know I shouldn't have stayed out so long. But honestly? What could I have done? I made my way to the library, thinking that maybe she just got lost in a book when I hadn't made it home yet, but things had been rearranged. The desk was no longer in the room. That made my heart drop. I rushed across the hall and into her room, and what I saw disturbed me deeply, and broke my heart in two.

Hermione sat on the floor in front of her bed, she had been crying for a long time. A new word carved into her wrist. "hated" was all it said. I dropped to my knees in front of her crying and bleeding form. She hadn't even noticed me yet, her pain drowning out her senses. All of her scars had been carved into. All of the words reopened. I took the knife from her hands, and lifted her into my arms and apparated her away, to St. Mungo's.

I stayed by her side the whole time, never leaving unless it was to relieve slight discomforts. It was a whole 24 hours before she stirred and woke up. She blinked and turned to look at me leaning my head against what part of her hadn't been covered in bandages.

"Why would you do that to yourself, Hermione?" I begged.

"What did you see?" She asked me.

"I saw enough to know that I'm never leaving you on your own again. And you are never, ever getting a hold of that dagger again." Little did she know, I had sent it to Hogwarts, begging McGonnagall to have her Defense Against the Dark Arts professor check it over for what dark magic it held. "Hermione, if you kill yourself you won't be able to continue your dream to find a fix for long term cruciatus symptoms. You could have died tonight, Hermione. You could have left me, right after I found you again. Do you know what this has done to me? What would I have done if I didn't have you anymore?"

Hermione shuddered. "I never wanted you to see any of that." She admitted.

"You shouldn't have even felt the need to do that!" I raised my voice slightly at her in my distress. "I know you've been doing this for a long while, I don't know how I didn't see the scars before. I watched your memories Hermione, and you should have never, ever hidden something like that from me. Potter doesn't even know that you didn't try suicide, that Weasley had done that to you! I could kill him. I could send him to Azkaban and have him Kissed. Do you realize that without you, I have nothing?" I knew I was crying at that point, and I didn't care. I was scared for her. And right now, I was scared of her too. The fact that she could do something so awful to herself, and try to hide away from the world, and believe every single word that was carved into her skin unnerved me. "I love you..." I whispered.

"What?" she whispered back.

"I said, I love you, Hermione." I said louder, looking into her eyes. "Don't you ever do this to me again, I'm begging you. I don't care that I sound selfish, but I will not lose you like this. You are not a murderer, you are not hated, you are not a whore, you are mine. You are beautiful, loved, passionate, loving, and needed. You are my world."