Chapter Three:

Strike Three

Hermione woke up quickly and pulled her hand to her chest. She felt the speeding heart race as it pumped blood through her shaky body. She took a couple of deep breaths and shoved her thumb into her mouth. She explored the small squares of bone and noticed nothing had changed. It was a nightmare. She didn't have fangs, and she wasn't really going to kill Harry.

She looked to her side to find her sleeping crush on his stomach, still, and in an uneasily wake able sleep. She sat her hands to his scarred face and shook her head. What was happening to them? They claimed they loved each other, but Hermione was having dreams about killing him. His uncle had nearly beaten him to death, and she sat here doing nothing, but staring at him.

Her soft chocolate eyes were filled with guilt and sympathy towards the boy. Bad things always happened to him, but why exactly did this? What could make such a gentleman turn into a slave? He specifically said he was being punished for sending letters to his friends, pst, that's what made Hermione sick to her stomach. (Note: That 'pst' thing is a noise, and not a misspelling... continue:P)

How could she have let this happen? She had lost a father, a friend, and she had also lost something else over the summer: her happiness. She thought Harry's presence would be a sight for sore eyes and make her happier then ever, but this gruesome fact that happened to Harry's summer was about as painful as having three hundred knives plunged into your chest. It cut her so deep that she couldn't explain it, and she didn't know if she would ever be able to.

Harry lay sleeping on Hermione's left side and he slept like it was nothing. It was like nothing ever happened and it was normal, but it wasn't. Hermione's fingers were entwined with Harry's and that's when she felt it. The spark that told her she was going to be happy had finally returned. In her grasp she held it, and it would travel with her for as long as she could hold on.

Then her mind shifted back to her dream. Was this an odd coincidence that Hermione had seen Harry in pain and then dreamt about causing the pain? She wouldn't tell him about the dream, because of safe keepings. Both Harry and Hermione were alike in a way by keeping one secret held dear to them and they would not speak of it. Hermione kept her dreams to herself, and Harry kept his cutting to himself.

What Hermione didn't know was the cutting, and something told Harry he should tell her, but remained silent. There were the Pros and Cons about it. For example a Pro could be her not having to worry, but a Con could be her being mad because he didn't tell her. This was confusion beyond all beliefs and Harry would stick to his word by promising himself that he would never tell her.

Hermione's thin, long fingers had caressed the cheek of her sleeping dream and she smiled weakly. Harry would protect her, and she knew this. Something, though, told her that she would need to protect him. Something would happen, and she could feel it close by in the midnight sky. It was dark.

They had slept nearly fourteen hours, but I guess it paid off. Neither of them had gotten more then three hours of sleep for the past couple of weeks. Hermione, in fact, hadn't slept at all one night. She spent the entire night writing in a book and jotting her thoughts down without even a thought about sleeping. She felt her eyelids get heavy again, but she blinked away the feeling.

She couldn't fall asleep again, because they had slept long enough already, in her opinion anyways. The sun was beginning to rise and she yawned slightly as she pulled the strings of pitch black hair from Harry's eyes. Rubbing her thumb gently across his cheek she felt him shiver. She went to stop when a hand had grabbed her. She jumped slightly.

"I'm sorry," Harry apologized. "I didn't mean to scare you, but I thought you were someone else." He said sleepily. "You scared me too," he said.

"Sorry, but… someone else?" Hermione breathed heavy from her jump. "Who else would it be?" She tried to ask as gently as possible.

"I don't know," He said softly. "I just thought you were already up." He said.

Hermione smiled weakly. Poor kid was even afraid to sleep for too long. She couldn't erase the pain that he had suffered through, and she couldn't erase his memory. She needed to find her own way to free him from this, and she would not let another thing hurt him. One thing had already, and he was lucky to be alive today in Hermione's opinion.

She didn't understand this at all. Why was this all happening? Too many things he already suffered through and yet, they never cease to end. Never had Hermione felt so helpless towards a best friend. She had lost her father and she was moping about it when her best friend was still alive, but barely. She loved him, and she somehow realized that she always had.

"I'm sorry Harry," She sighed as she pulled her knees to her chest and buried her face into her knees. She cried gently.

"I told you Hermione," He reassured. "There is no need to be sorry for scaring me." He said and she shook her head.

"No Harry," She paused. "I'm sorry I can't save you. I can't delete your past, because it has already happened." She said.

"Hermione, you shouldn't even be worried about me." He spoke gently. "I know what it's like to lose a father, because I have lost Sirius. He was the closest thing I had and a death eater had taken him from me." He tried speaking gently so it didn't come as a happy matter. "I love you Hermione, and I'll be here for you. You have a reason to be sad, but you have no reason to worry."

Hermione had been lost in thought again for a few minutes. Every word rushed through her head like a bullet. Never was she going to forget the day she got the phone call about her dad. She was never going to forget the sight of when she first saw Harry. Covered in bruises, and still acting practically normal. Then she remembered something.

Last night. The darkness had swallowed the room completely, but Hermione remember something that happened on that dark night. She remembered the series of lines that were scrawled across Harry's left forearm. Hermione remembered the scratches and every scar on that arm. She stared at him.

"Harry," She said gently to not seem so suspicious. "Can I see your arm for a minute?" She wondered.

"Uhh, sure?" He asked confused as he flopped his right arm onto her lap.

"Left, please," She said sweetly. Harry had suddenly hugged his arm protectively.

"Why?" He asked hastily and Hermione made a click sound with her tongue. She knew he was definitely hiding something.

Whether he would tell her the truth or a cover lie, she didn't care at all. She needed to know something that would explain those marks. Harry's mind flashed to the chunk of glass that he had cut himself with. He couldn't let her see his arm, because what could she possibly say? Never could he, but he didn't have a choice.

Her eyes were filled with horror and sadness as she tugged at his sleeve. If only he could close his eyes and have his scratches go away, but it wasn't that simple. They were still there and a burning sensation occurred when Hermione had released them to fresh air. She sighed and Harry looked to the floor. She knew, and she would say something. He was most definitely sure she would.

"Harry," Hermione said as she tried to hold back the hidden spring of tears that were on the verge of breaking. "Where are these scratches from?" She asked.

"They are... umm, well, they..." He stuttered and Hermione gave him a poignant look at his scars. Her thumb rolled against them lightly and Harry jumped back. "Ouch!" He screeched. "They are from Hedwig alright," he breathed. "It was an accident."

Hermione looked to the side of Harry's bed and looked at Hedwig for a moment. Hermione swore she saw Hedwig glare at Harry and she crossed her arms. She took a deep breath and stared at him with amazement. She spoke gently at first, and hoping it wouldn't get too loud.

"You said you would never lie to me." She said.

Tears began to flow out her eyes, and she couldn't stop them. The water leaked down her cheeks with a never ending feeling to them. Hermione felt her heart rip in half. She had not long ago confessed her love to him, and he lied to her. Trust was a key ingredient to a relationship, and he couldn't even give her that. What was going on?

Her heart was now slowly pumping with disgrace towards this man that she believed she loved. He hurt her not only physically, but mentally. He had taken her heart and then tore it in half. Did he actually mean to do this though? She turned, walking for the door with tears in her eyes, and he stopped her.

"Wait Hermione," Harry said with confusion. "What do you mean?" He asked as he analyzed her tearing eyes. "I've never lied to you." He assured.

"Harry," She growled. "You just did." She had walked out with a slam of the door.

Running down the hall of the burrow she had run into an empty room and sprawled herself across the floor. Never would she be able to forgive him. She knew he had done those things to himself, and he couldn't even tell her that. Maybe he was scared of her, or maybe he just didn't trust her.

She buried her head into her arms and cried into the floor of the empty, dark room. Her cries echoed through out the room and she laid there like a vegetable. She felt she was paralyzed and didn't want to move. She laid there, head in her arms, and crying over something that didn't seem too big of a deal to another, but this was more then anyone could have guessed to her.

His veracity meant the world to her. She wanted him to be open and not keep anything from behind her back. She, though, had only noticed that she was actually hiding something from him. She hid her dream from him. She had just yelled at the man she had loved since she was eleven and threw it away. Only a day they spent together, and even that wasn't enough.

She wanted to love him. She wanted to ease his pain, but she couldn't. She couldn't do anything without hurting him more in another way. She would never forgive herself if she knew she had only caused him more pain. If she was going to help him, then she had to return to him. The only problem was that returning would have to include telling him that she was wrong, but she wasn't sure if she was wrong.

She kept her face to the floor as her tears cried a puddle and trailed down different paths of skin and wood. She took a deep breath. She wanted to know why he did these things, she was completely sure that he did those marks to himself, but why would he do that? How could he do that? How could he take the pain and find the strength to cut himself? It didn't make sense.

She moved. Her head had snapped up as she heard the sharp creek of wood on its hinges. She looked at saw the man that she really didn't want to see again. He stood there with confusion and hurt in his eyes and Hermione glared gently at him before she tore her teary eyes away from him.

She couldn't look at him without having memories run through her mind. She wanted to disappear and never return to this hell. She never wanted to look him in the face knowing that he harmed himself at the same time as being abused by a guardian. She couldn't do it, and she had to find someway to vanish. She, right now, didn't know whether to scream or cry.

She scurried into the corner of the room, and for some reason she wished she could blend into the wall. She did it in her dreams. She had nothing to be afraid of, because she wasn't really a vampire, so she didn't have to be scared. Her glossy chocolate eyes looked at him in repugnance. His lies sickened her to death. Then she stopped getting into nasty thoughts about death. What if she was the reason why he cut himself like that? What if it were she who cut herself? Why would she do it?

"Hermione," Harry said with sadness. "Can we at least talk, please?" He pleaded, but Hermione didn't back down.

"No." She said bluntly. "There is nothing to talk about." She said, and then paused. "Unless, you are willing to tell me: why you have started cutting yourself." She said acidly and put emphasis on the word cutting.

"Cutting myself?" He asked with a large gulp. "How could you possibly think that?" He asked in pure outrage.

"Your arm," She pointed.

A stain was in a perfect, straight line was soaking through his long sleeve on his pure white shirt. He made to cover it, but it was no use. The blood was just too visible. Harry had done it again, and Hermione could do nothing but cry her fears away. She felt hurt and scared. Soon she felt her heart disappear from her body once he had once again spoken to her.

"I told you," He said and Hermione jumped to her feet.

"You told me a lie!" She yelled. "You've been cutting your arm to get rid of the pain and blaming it on Hedwig!" She said sharply. "Don't lie to me Harry." She snipped.

"How would you know anyways?" He asked and she crossed her arms.

"Just because I'm smart enough to tell the difference between a cut and a scratch doesn't mean you should try fooling anyone else." She glowered at him. "So, it's true... isn't it?" She asked delicately.

"No." He said quickly, and Hermione had jumped once again.

"I thought you'd be smart enough to listen to me. Stop lying to me Harry! I mean its one thing the first time, but this is the third time. Now tell me the truth!" She said with tears trailing down her face.

"Fine," He said. "I am." He let out a breath of relaxation. For some reason he felt a lot better after telling her. Hermione stared at him.

"With what?" She asked.

He stood there, silent. He had broken his promise to himself. He promised himself over and over that he would not tell Hermione. He stared at her with the thought of wondering if he should be mad at her. She had corrupted his personal feelings. She was snooping into his life secrets. 'Yes', he thought, 'I should.'

"Not telling you." He said acidly.

"And why not?" She asked with her arms crossed.

"It's none of your consent. What I do with my life has nothing to do with you." He growled angrily at her. "Nothing you do will help, because you have been doing nothing but making it worse."

"I was afraid of that." She whispered to the floor as her eyes met her leather, black, buckled shoes.

"What? Afraid of killing me?" He asked. "Yeah, Hermione, I love you, but if you are going to act like this then I'm not sure if I can handle it. I'm sorry about your father, and I know you are under a lot of stress, but that is no reason to take it out on me." He hissed at her with madness.

"Wait, wait, wait!" She shouted. "Just because you are so upset doesn't mean that you have to be suicidal!" She said. "Is that what you want?" She asked as tears filled her eyes. "Do you honestly want to die?"

"I don't know." He said simply. "This world has nothing for me, and I have already done my duty of killing Voldemort." Harry hissed. "So what's left for me?" He asked and Hermione fell to her knees in tears.

"There was me," She cried. "There was me and you didn't care. You want to die and leave me to grieve for you. I love you Harry, and you did nothing for me to believe in myself. I spent all my years worrying about you, but I never faced my own feelings. I was behind you one hundred percent to make sure you never got hurt, but what have you done for me? Now you stand here, poised to kill yourself, and I know I can't stop you. For once will you listen to me?" She cried into her hands with helplessness.

"Hermione I," He stopped.

"No Harry." She said. "I tried to help, and you were right. I do nothing but make matters worse for myself. I have nothing to do, but sit here and cry over one small lie. You broke a promise to me, and I stood by your word. Then I lied to you without you even knowing, and now I'm just... just... I'm just completely fucked up!" She cried.

"Hermione, please." He said and knelt by her. "You have done nothing for me to treat you like this. You have helped me, and I didn't mean the things I said. I'm sorry for hurting you Hermione." He said. She was at least happy that he hadn't caught her outburst about the lie.

"Harry, I don't know what to do." She cried and before she knew it she seized him and cuddled close to him as the tears flowed down her cheeks. She wasn't sure of why she was doing this, but she did it.

"Shh, Hermione," Harry said gently. "Please don't cry." He pleaded, but Hermione hadn't settled down a bit.

"I hurt you, I've hurt my life, and I've killed my father." She cried. This was typical thing to all of those who've lost a parent. They immediately think it's their fault.

"Hermione," Harry sighed. "How many times do I have to tell you?" He asked and Hermione continued to sob. "It's not your fault!" He said. "It was an accident."

"Everything happens for a reason." She said and Harry looked at her with confusion. She sighed.

"Where have you heard that?" He asked and Hermione sighed again.

"I use to go to church, but I stopped. The bible states that all magic is evil, so if I returned then that would be dishonorable." She said with sadness. "I do miss my praying days, but I can't anymore." She said. "God said that everything happens for a reason. Giving magic is a punishment in the bible, and I must have done something wrong to become a mudblood." She shouted at herself and Harry went completely speechless.

"What?" He asked in outrage.

"The Slytherins are right..." She sighed. "I'm nothing but a mudblood."

She had called herself the word that all muggleborns hated the most. Hermione had spent her years defending for herself when someone called her that. She was giving up now, and it made no sense. She took all her hard work on proving she was just as good as everyone else, and threw it out the window. What was she thinking to make her do this to herself?

She was insulting herself for no reason at all. Harry knew he wouldn't take anymore of this, but before he knew it she had stood from his lap and wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt. She felt her heart rip again, and the pain had returned to her. What was she doing?

"What are you doing?" Harry asked.

"Planning something." She said sadly and went to walk for the door.

"Wait," He said when he grabbed her wrist.

She didn't want to hear another word of what he said. She wanted to leave. She, though, had followed his pull and returned back into his lap. She sighed and leaned against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her. He rocked her gently.

"Why did you call yourself that?" He asked and Hermione's mind went back to the word 'mudblood.'

"I am nothing but a muggle." She said. "I am destroying the magic world as we speak, and I can't do anything about it." She said.

"Hermione," Harry said. "Having magic is like a privilege." He spoke silently. "You are the most wonderful person, and you are even hurting me to know that you insult yourself like that." He said as he wiped a trailing tear from her eye.

"You, though," She said. "You cut yourself. That hurt me." She said and Harry nodded in surrender.

"I know," He sighed sadly and hoped it wasn't true. "I'm sorry, but it seemed like the only way out at the time."

"Harry, I want you to promise me that you'll never-" Something had stopped her.

She felt the warm sensation as a pressure formed at her lips. The warm feeling had sent a shiver up her back as her lips interlocked with his. She felt herself sweat, but she had forced a kiss back to him. Her heart became whole again, and she no longer felt empty inside her. This is what made her free.

"Harry," She said as she took a breath. "Please?" She asked.

"I promise," Was all he could say.

Hermione had pushed back at him and their lips had locked again. Passion and hastily kisses formed and she felt her lips begin to bruise. She pulled away quickly to get a breath of clean air and sighed heavily. She laid her head against his chest once again with a smile.

"Just a question," Harry said as he panted lightly. "What were you planning?" The smile vanished from her lips.

"What?" She asked.

"Earlier you said you were planning something." Harry said and Hermione nodded. "Out of curiosity, what was it?" He asked. She took a deep breath and with a relaxing voice she spoke.

"My Death,"

Author's Notes:

Alright, I'm not back to writing again. Aren't y'all happy? Probably not.Alright after reading this chapter I guess you wouldn't be happy, but I'd be happy if you reviewed! -wink wink-

The sixth book was really good, but the 4th book still remains my favorite. I can't believe he died though! I'm not saying a name because there are, amazingly, some out there who still haven't read the book. So I wish not to spoil it for them! Well I hope you enjoy this chapter and... HAPPY 16th BIRTHDAY DANIEL RADCLIFFE!

To My Reviewers:

missradcliffe – I hope you enjoyed the show. It sounds really cool, but I thought the book was really good too. Sad, but good!

FroBoy – Thanks.

Caitlyn – ALRIGHT! Lol, a little persuasive aren't you? Lol.

NeonNights – The end was Hermione's dream and in later chapters you find why he was abused, but for now it remains a mystery!

sakura-sweeti – You'll have to excuse the spelling errors. It's my program that changes spelling mistake for me and I sometimes can't find them. The program sometimes puts a completely different word or something else in its place so that spell check doesn't detect it. Apologies but enjoy!

toga party! – Your story sounds really good, and I encourage you to take a shot at writing it... as long as I get to read it! Lol. I was debating whether or not I should post this because you said you were going insane, but I think you've waited long enough! Lol, ENJOY!

Maren L P – Did you read the book? I got mine late and I was terribly pissed off, but thankfully I got it at some point. And don't you hate cliffhangers? Muhahaha.

GoldenWiings325 – One simple word can mean so much... thank you.

Heownesmysoulforever – Something tells me you wrote that review in like ten seconds. Lol, sometimes I can just tell. But thanks anyways. I'm glad you liked it and the wait is over, but I think I might wait a couple MONTHS before I post the next chapter... just kidding.

Thanks to all!

Airalynn

UPDATED: (SATURDAY) JULY 23, 2005 – HAPPY BIRTHDAY DANIEL! AGAIN!