(A/N: Okie Dokie here. Uh so, it looks like I've abandoned you all for quite some time eh? And still I got only one review telling me to update? How sad. I have so many people reading this story and so many refusing to review. Ok I'm over it. Now, to compensate for my recent and unexplained absence this chapter will be longer than usual, I will also be posting chapter six tomorrow! Yay! And I will be updating more often!) ---DO THE UPDATE DANCE!!---

Notice: For those of you who are reading this story, and have read the book Maximum Ride, you should check out my fic on it!! Whoo! For those of you who haven't read Maximum Ride yet, PLEASE DO! It's super crazy awesome!

Oh and there will be one new character introduced in this chapter… hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I do not claim.

Copy write: Ah, but I do own the plot.

Now on with the story!!!

Chapter 5:

Discoveries

Draco saw Harry, Hermione, and Ron's mouth's drop to the floor. Yes, it was quite unusual to be out of St. Mungo's so early from such an extensive flogging, so much deprivation of food, and hardly enough green sludge that was, according to his father, "water". Yeah right, water his arse. But, he had gotten out so early because he, essentially, begged the staff. His father would find him there for sure, he couldn't stay there. He would find somewhere else to live for the next two weeks and then school would be starting up again. He would be safe until Christmas Holiday.

No one said a word, but they all stared ever so asininely. Especially the two tall idiot twins and that annoying little girl one, who hadn't the slightest idea of the previous nights events.

Draco hated this uncomfortable silence. Why had he come here? Here, was of course the Weasley residence, or the Burrow. Although he asked himself why he was here, he could not care less about the answer. All he cared about was he was away from that monster, he didn't feel pain throbbing in every part of his body any longer making him wish for death to come. No, scratch that last part, Draco still wished for death.

Molly Weasely had noticed his presence at the table, "Well they fixed you up nicely didn't they Mr. Malfoy!" He gave her a courteous smile. Real sweet woman, she was. Nothing like her children. She brought him a plate full with mashed potatoes, scrambled eggs, bacon, buttered toast, and jelly on the side. It smelled delicious, and he couldn't wait to dig in. Being starved of food for six days will do that to a person. She also brought him a large glass of orange juice.

"Here you are dear! Well, eat up! You must be famished!"

Famished he was, and he finished the entire breakfast including the orange juice in about seven minutes.

"Thank you Mrs. Weasely breakfast was delicious," he was surprised at the sound of his voice. It was still rather hoarse.

"Oh, Draco dear, Arthur is upstairs; he would like to speak with you."

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As soon as they were sure that Malfoy was out of hearing range Fred George and Ginny started in. "Mum! What is that prat doing here!?!" George began.

Next came Ginny, "And why isn't he going all psycho crazy on Harry or Harry on him?" she looked confused and then looked over adoringly at Harry. Harry turned his face quite embarrassed. He knew that she fancied him, quite a lot actually, but he didn't have the same feelings for her. In fact he didn't really even like her that much at all. Although, she knew what she was talking about. Usually the two would have been at each other's throats with spells at first sight of each other. How could they have a civilized breakfast at the same table, let alone in the same building!?

Then it was Fred's turn, "Mum, what is going on?"

"Well, ask Ron dear, he brought him home," She replied while using a spell to get the dishes to clean themselves.

The three gaped at Ron, "Hermione made me!" he blurted out as he pointed to her across the table.

"He was hurt!" she yelled in her defense.

"Whatever" Fred grumbled. She looked down at the floor with tears on the brim of her eyes.

Hermione knew they hated him, but honestly, he was horribly hurt, how can they leave someone in that condition behind? 'How can they be so horrid?' She thought. She felt in a way, betrayed by them just because she had given an enemy help. These were her best friends at this table, and they were all giving her dirty looks, and scowls. She felt defeated, out numbered, and unwanted. Without another word said, she got up, left the table and she went upstairs into an old dusty spare room.

It looked like one of the room Arthur Weasley kept all his muggle collections. Some of the things in the room were just absurd to her: an empty water bottle, a computer mouse, a magnet shaped like a flip flop, old post-it notes, lamp shades, and many more oddly random items.

Sometimes she hated the way they acted. They almost acted as bad as Malfoy himself. She let out a sigh to try and relieve some stress.

"What's wrong little Hermit?" No such luck. Hermione inwardly groaned. She dint' know that Ron's annoying American friend was here. Inhaling deeply and putting on a fake smile she said, "Hello Brandy, how have you been?"

Brandy was a metamporphmagus, yet her appearance almost never changed. She was very light skinned, had blood red lips, and bright and shining violet eyes. "Who made you cry Hermit? I'll kill 'um!" her face filled with raged and Hermione let out a chuckle at her reaction. Neither of them were all that fond of the other. Brandy found Hermione to be a prissy, annoying, know-it-all. And Hermione found Brandy to be too-loud-for-any-one-in-their-right-mind's-liking. But to Brandy, it didn't matter, if a friend of Ron's was hurt, Brandy would protect her.

"It's alright" Brandy shrugged her shoulders and went downstairs.

Everything was going wrong for Hermione. She hadn't told anyone yet, but her mother had been murdered a week after school let out last year. Her father was always distant. He was like a vegetable; he didn't even look at her anymore. Before she came to the Burrow she had forgotten so many things. She had forgotten what laughter sounded like, and what smiles looked like. But there was still something she couldn't remember. What happiness felt like. She felt hollow and empty inside, and it was eating away at her insides with every breath she took.

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Hermione felt bad for leaving her father alone, but, she was also relieved the Weasley's had invited her to the Burrow. She needed to get away from this place, "Good-bye Dad," She looked over her shoulder to see her father sitting in that same chair, staring at the same spot on the floor, where he last saw his wife's body. Ever since that day he didn't even acknowledge her presence. She didn't blame him, after all, it was her fault her mother was dead. She walked out the door.

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After she knocked on the door of the Burrow it was almost immediately opened and she had seen a few things she had forgotten. The door was opened showing the people inside the warm home with smiles on their faces, people who could laugh with out a care in the world, who could laugh with out guilt and their insides becoming black and dead. "Hermione!! Hey….what's wrong?" Ron looked at her quizzically.

"Huh? Oh, I'm just wondering about when we're getting the book list. Honestly Ronald, aren't you the least bit concerned that we haven't received on yet?" She surprised herself with such a great cover-up. Usually she was terrible at lying, but this time the lies just flowed out of her mouth.

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She was covered in his blood. He lay there, in the same position as her mother. The blood was everywhere. She stared down at her hands, covered in his spilled blood, one side of her once white blouse, now a deep and eerie red.

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She had to save him; she didn't want him to…end up like her mum. She suddenly became conscious that her face was completely soaked, from the tears that still refused to stop falling. No matter how many times she wiped them away they refused to stop falling. It hurt so badly, the image of her mothers eyes, wide open, hollow and starring at nothing, it was like she never had a soul. Blood stains on the white carpet of the family room, the room where they had so many happy memories. And Hermione, covered in the blood of her mother.

It was becoming hard for her to breath. Her lungs were being squeezed so tight. She couldn't take it anymore, her breath was coming out in shudders and she was violently shaking. The image of her dead mother's face wouldn't leave; she couldn't block it out any more. Hermione frantically searched around the room with her eyes, not leaving the spot she was standing in. She saw one of Mr. Weasley's muggle pocket knives. She needed a release. She needed to make up for the pain her mother felt, and this was the only way.

Slowly the slightly rusty pocket knife opened. The cool metal touched her perfect porcelain skin. She closed her eyes. The blade slowly cut vertically all the way down her forearm. A warm liquid quickly and steadily was making its way down her arms. She felt better so she decided to go deeper.

Finally, the blood on her body was her own and not someone else's.

The blade moved to her other arm, and made a deeper cut than the first.

But still the tears refused to stop falling, she was sobbing, and now the crimson flowing steadily down her arm refused as well.

She stood there in the middle of the room, the blood from her slit wrists was congregating together on the dusty floor. The bright crimson was creating quite a contrast to the grey old hardwood floors.

The door opened and she froze.

"Granger dinner is re-' Draco looked quizzically at the unusually sad girl before him. Tears were falling from her eyes and she was shaking shudders of breaths out. His eyes moved to her arms. They were mutilated. There were deep vertical gory and ragged cuts in each forearm. Blood was flowing steadily down the both of them. He followed the trail of blood down her right arm with his eyes, finally moving to her hand. There was an old, oddly small, and rusty knife clutched in it. She had done this to herself.

"What the hell did you do!?!" Hermione saw terror in his eyes. How is that possible? The terror was mixed with rage. 'How odd, you'd think he'd be delighted to see me like this,' she thought to herself. Hermione began seeing dots, and it was becoming even harder to breath.

"Malfoy I can't see," she breathed. And then her eyes rolled back, shut, and she fell to the ground.

(A/N: Dun Dun DUN!! So what did you think? This is by far the most I have written. I'd like to get to at least 25 reviews please. If I have 25 reviews for this story, then the next installment will be up later tomorrow! Whoot whoot!

Suggestions are welcome, Reviews are love!)