Decision

A/N: Hello there! Thank you for your reviews- I can't get tired of telling you how happy they make me. We are getting closer and closer to my one of my favourite parts of this fic... So without further ado... Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I only own the plot, thank you.

"So pardon me while I burst into flames
I've had enough of the world
And it's people's mindless games

So pardon me while I burn
And rise above the flame
Pardon me, pardon me
I'll never be the same..."

"Pardon Me"- Incubus.

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How silly of her.

After all of what she had gone through, anyone would think that she was heartless and unforgiving. But she was not. She didn't know if that was good or bad... She just didn't know anymore. Hermione used to think that everything negative she was feeling would give way to a greater thing, a good thing.

But that good thing never came.

Why? Why was it like that? Why did every little thing have to be ruined by those feelings of loss and loneliness? How very silly of her. To think it would last. It never did; she should've learned by now. But tomorrow it would only be a bad dream, another nightmare to stash in the back of her head; another rock thrown into the ocean. But what would happen when the nightmares became too many? Hermione hoped she didn't ever find out... She didn't want to try to commit suicide again. Afterall, only a month has passed since her overdose (her stomach still hurt, sometimes).

Hermione shook her head and willed herself to focus on the work she was supposed to be doing, but it just wasn't happening. She had wasted so much time on nothing; on her stupid fixation on Sirius, and she felt so weary, sick and old. Like she had wasted her life on something that didn't have a reason or a solution. The tranquillity she had experienced over the course of those two weeks in St. Mungos was long gone, and Hermione knew why.

It was this house.

It was the house, which liked to feast on the little happiness she had inside. It was like a vampire, sucking her blood until she was as empty as this house had been before it became the Order's headquarters. Many would think that, now that she knew what Grimmauld Place did to her, it would be a sensible move to move out of there. The only problem was, in fact, that Hermione didn't want to leave the house. Now, why didn't she want to get out of there as fast as she could? Far from the memories and the pain; to move on.

Well, she didn't want to move on. If she had her way, she'd never get over Sirius... Hermione knew that it was not wise to dwell on dreams, but, hell, she couldn't help it. The book she had found was a sign, she knew it. She had already read it from beginning to end, and it was still hard to swallow. She had been so excited about it, and she had read it so quickly, that not a word remained in her head. She had to plan this very carefully- she didn't even dare to imagine how many things could go wrong. Not that she cared if anything was to happen to her; Hermione didn't care about herself.

Since the overdose, everyone had been oh so kind to her; they were all over her, showering her with praise, sweet words, and company. A few months ago, Hermione would've been more than delighted with this, but she was not stupid. She didn't forget how lonely she had been, she didn't forget that on Christmas no one had noticed she was missing; she didn't forget that if she had not tried to take her own life things would have been the same, and nothing would have changed.

Hypocrites.

Hermione frowned and scowled at this thought. "Everything will be okay, Hermione. In a few months this will be over, and you won't survive this time around. Just focus on your work for now, finish it, and then you'll be able to read the black book. Everything will be okay..." Repeating this mantra over and over, she let out a sigh of frustration and poured over her work, still disappointed with her life and friends.

-+-

She had changed. Everyone could see that. There was the Hermione from before the overdose, quiet, silent and unreachable. Then there was the Hermione after the overdose: sarcastic, cold, and more unreachable than before. Before there was a bracelet and pills, now there was the bracelet and a black book that she carried wherever she went.

Hermione hid herself behind the work they gave her in the Ministry, yes, she hid herself and the worst part was that she apparently didn't regret it. Her close friends felt as if they had lost her; it was like an endless game of hide and seek that they never won. Harry and Ron had asked the witch who worked with Hermione about it, and the witch had cheerfully said "Oh, Hermione? She's such a nice girl... Very hardworking and polite..." So was it safe to assume that the problem resided with them?

The small window Arthur's old office offered a shining sun that morning, being May 23rd. As usual, Hermione was immersed in calculations and writing on a parchment when Harry entered. She glanced up at him and resisted the urge to sneer before concentrating on the page in front of her again.

"What're you doing, Hermione?" Harry offered with a smile, sitting down in the chair in front of her.

"Well, I'm watering some plants, if you'd like to help me..." Hermione answered him absentmindedly, crossing out a sum. Harry raised his right eyebrow at her response, feeling slightly annoyed with this new attitude.

"Malfoy would be proud of how you're acting," he said. Hermione nodded.

"Oh, he is... He told me the other day."

"Are you mad at me?" Harry wanted to know.

"Not really," she replied, not even looking up from her work. "I've just been busy..." Hermione would have liked to tell him the truth, but honestly, she didn't feel like dealing with them. Sometimes she did feel guilty about treating her friends like that, but she felt as if they were their only outlet for her frustration.

"You can't hide from the world forever, Hermione. Trust me."

"Don't talk to me like that," she told him, glaring at him.

"Like what?"

"As if you know how it feels," Hermione retorted. How could he know? Goodness! Hermione knew that Harry had gone through most of this during his life, but it still bothered her that Harry treated her like he knew all about it, like he had undergone what she was going through now-

"I'm telling you because I know how it is. I did it throughout all of fifth year," Harry said. Hermione snorted.

"Yeah, I remember. Look, Harry, I have work to do here-"

"Today's Sirius's birthday," Harry ejaculated. A black spot of ink tainted Hermione's parchment as she sharply looked up, widening her eyes.

"What?"

"You heard me." Hermione broke eye contact and gazed down at the paper before her eyes, frowning. She had forgotten all about it... In her fifth year she had sent Sirius a birthday card... She scarcely remembered what it said... Had he kept it? Hermione sighed at this; she'd never know. She'd never know if he had liked it, if he had been happy when he received it...

"I see," she finally replied, looking up at Harry. "How are you feeling?" she decided to ask. Harry shrugged one shoulder.

"Empty. You?"

"Pretty much the same."

"I never knew you cared about him," Harry started. "You even seemed to dislike him," he added. Hermione ran her fingers through her hair and looked away.

"No, I didn't dislike him. He simply was very lonely..." she trailed off, biting her lower lip and trying to block all the memories that accompanied that sentence. She recalled his voice when they broke up... He had sounded so bitter, so powerless.

"I guess so." A silence fell over the two of them, each one lost in their own thoughts. "It'd be so nice to see him again," Harry broke the silence with a hollow voice. "If there was any way to bring him back..." Hermione swallowed and blinked rapidly to stop the stinging sensation in her eyes at his comments.

"Nothing can revive the dead," Hermione whispered.

"Oh, I know," Harry said, trying to smile convincingly. "It's just..." his voice died down and Hermione breathed in deeply, knowing how he was feeling. She could not forget that she wasn't the only person that had loved Sirius; and this realization made guilt squeeze her heart. She was about to open her mouth to speak when Harry stood up, startling her. "Well, you have work to do. I'm leaving," he stated, making Hermione raise her eyebrows, but before she could say anything Harry was already about to walk out of her office.

"Harry?"

"I'd like to think so," he told her with a smile that Hermione returned.

"Thanks for telling me."

"I thought you ought to know."

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Where was she? Was she somewhere? Everything was excruciatingly black; there were neither sounds nor any sign of movement. Briefly, Hermione wondered if she was standing or floating, for she failed to feel the floor under her feet. Her mouth would not emit any sound, either, because it was as though someone had placed a permanent sticking charm on her lips. Hermione tried to step forwards and discovered, with much surprise, that each of her wrists were bound with something, not allowing her to move. Beginning to panic, Hermione tugged on her wrists, but the ropes that binded them to the ceiling didn't bulge. Hermione tried to scream, but only a muffled and low sound came out of her mouth. She tried again and again, tugging on the ropes and mutely hollering for someone to free her, but nothing was happening.

Her eyes started getting used to the darkness, and the place begun to take shape. It was huge; a gargantuan and endless room... Hermione gazed at the ropes tightly bound round her wrists but could not distinguish the ceiling from which they were presumably hanging. The silence was simply deafening... Hermione tugged and tugged, struggling against the bonds as she screamed and begged for help soundlessly. She closed her eyes and felt the warm tears in her eyes as she let herself hang from the wrists limply, feeling so inexplicably tired...

Plick, plick, plick; her tears fell to the ground like some sort of bitter rain. The sound was magnified by the silent room, the soft falling of water on the floor. Warm and salty tears rolled down her cheeks slowly, but she didn't make a move to clean her pain, to hide her sadness away.

Click. A lock being unlocked.

Hermione quickly looked up and her eyes widened when she saw an open door at the far end of the room. She couldn't see who had just entered the room; all was bathed in shadows. She started "yelling" again, desperately tugging at the ropes again... The only sound she could hear was the gentle 'thud, thud' of someone lightly walking on the floor. Steadily, never faltering or slowing the pace... Towards her.

Hermione woke up with a start, gasping. She was breathing like she had just run a marathon. Someone was knocking on her door- What a bizarre dream! Hermione had been on the verge of checking her wrists for any signs of binding. What could it have meant? What 'bind' her? Maybe it was her love for Sirius what didn't let her go... And the fact that she couldn't let anyone know about what had happened literaly made her lips get sealed? But what had that door meant? "Who is it?" she asked loudly.

"It's Ginny; we have to go to check on the bridesmaids dresses!" Her friend replied. Hermione sighed deeply.

"Give me ten minutes." She retorted as she glanced at the stack of parchments that rested on the desk of her room. They were full of crossed out sentences and calculations, saturated with black fingerprints and new theories and possibilities. The blessed black book rested next to them, as usual. Hermione shook her head and stood up, grabbing the first robe on which she laid her eyes on, and putting it on. She didn't even bother on make up; she gave her hair a one-two brush and that was it. She then grabbed her purse and wand, and stepped out of her room.

"You look terrible."

"Gee, thanks, that makes me feel so much better."

"No, really... You look shaken. Are you alright?" Ginny asked her. Hermione nodded.

"Nothing that I can't handle," she replied, closing the door after her and starting to walk down the stairs with Ginny at her tail. But... Hermione didn't need any help! She was perfectly alright. She could handle things on her own...

"Are you sure? Do you need anything?" Ginny wanted to know once they had reached the living room. "Because you know; if you ever do need anything-"

"Ginny, I'm not going to throw myself down the stairs, okay? Just drop it, please." Hermione snapped, sounding a little bit harsher than intended. Ginny looked as if she had swallowed a lemon and fell silent.

"My, my, that attitude needs to be taken care of," Draco's carrying voice could be heard, as he stood next to Ginny. Hermione smiled at him.

"I think that no one wants to take that risk," she said. Ginny let out a huff.

"Oh, please. Harry would kill for it," she snorted. Draco raised his eyebrows and Hermione blushed at the comment.

"Pott- Harry likes Hermione?" He wanted to know, a sly smile forming on his face.

"Slobbers all over the place whenever she's around," Ginny retorted. Hermione got redder.

"Excuse me, I'm still standing here!" She announced. "And no, Draco, I don't like Harry back." She added, turning to glance at Draco, who shut his mouth and smirked.

"Someone said my name?" A deep baritone voice interrupted. Hermione whipped around and swallowed, while Draco's smirk grew and Ginny grinned widely.

"Oh no, Harry- Draco and Hermione were bickering," she said. Harry grinned at Hermione and Draco snorted, sound that was quickly hid beneath a false coughing. Hermione rolled her eyes and grabbed Ginny's hand, dragging her towards the door.

"Let's go," Hermione growled, opening the door and almost kicking Ginny outside. The nerve of her! Hermione already knew that Harry fancied her, but to say it just like that... And in front of Draco! Hermione made a mental note to push Harry away as fast as possible- she wouldn't like to hurt him any further.

One hour later, Ginny fluttered and gushed around the bridesmaids dresses while Hermione looked at her from the sidelines. Luna was also there, and she was as excited as the blushing 'to-be' bride- if that "I'm high" look Luna sported could be called excitement. Hermione sat next to the door, watching Luna trying on the dress, and her spirits sunk even lower. She had been reading the book last night, and what she had not pleased by what she had learnt. In fact, she was so horrified by it that Hermione almost quit on the whole thing... Oh, how would she be able to do such thing?

Why should she do such a terrible deed, if she would die afterwards?

Because she could. Because she would make it up to him. The weight of the decision she had jsut made slightly disconcerted her.

"Hermione, you need to try it on too!" Luna's voice broke her reverie, her face floating before Hermione's. Luna held the champagne coloured dress with her hand; it was very beautiful and yet simple.

"Must I?" Hermione groaned. Ginny, standing next to Luna, nodded fervently.

"Of course! If it fits, I'll have it bought and ready for October!" The redhead exclaimed. Hermione's stomach did a somersault at this.

"No." Hermione said in a serious voice that made both Ginny's and Luna's eyebrows to shot up. "No, I don't want you to buy it now."

"What- Why?" Ginny asked, frowning. Hermione shook her head.

"I'll try it on, but please don't buy it."

"But-"

"Ginny! I can't explain, okay? Just don't buy it." If only Hermione could tell them... If only she could confess everything. Ginny's frown intensified and they stared at each other for a minute or so, both trying to unravel each other.

"Oh, okay," Ginny told her in the end, handing her the dress. "Try it on and that's it." Hermione nodded as she received the dress, gazing at it with a sad smile.

"You won't regret this decision, Ginny. Believe me..."

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A/N: There you go, another chapter... Hope you liked it! And now, you know the drill: the more reviews I get... The faster I'll update! But besides that, I really like to know what you folks think of the chapters. Reviews really make my day... So... Please leave one?