Warning- Emo Hermione and AU

Disclaimer: HP belongs to JKR.

Chapter 4- Truth Be Told

That next week, Hermione gradually began to heal and within a few days was allowed to go back to her own room but what strictly forbidden to go to any of her classes. Meals were brought to her by a house elf three times a day and as soon as the elf had disapparated, Hermione would use the vanishing spell to clean her plates. Draco was still required to attend his lessons but every other moment would be spent with Hermione.
Day after day he would sit by her bed, silently willing her to talk to him so he could begin to understand what went through her head, but she just lay in stony silence until he would leave for his next lesson and as soon as he had, she was free to curl up and cry her heart out. She longed to tell him the truth so he could comfort her and make everything alright but then the smug little voice in her head would knock her back to reality, 'You're just a stupid, fat Mudblood. Why would someone as perfect as him want a disgusting piece of filth like you?! You disgust everyone around you, even Harry and Ron haven't visited you! And you dared to think of them as your brothers?! You sicken me! You're disgusting. I bet you've even put on weight since the holidays, I bet they fed you when you were in the hospital wing- that would explain why you're so fat. You know it's not good enough unless you're 100lbs. Then you'll be perfect.'

Everyday, more and more of the poison would spew out her mind, attacking herself with vicious words until, on Friday; she couldn't stop herself from looking. She had kept her scales carefully hidden away under her wardrobe where no one was likely to find them and now she drew them out from beneath, barely able to breathe as her apprehension began to fill her chest. It had been weeks since she'd last braved the scales. She'd been so scared that it would have gone up again. Maintaining she could cope with, but a gain would be intolerable.

Hesitantly, she shed her cotton pyjamas until she was left standing in her socks. Gingerly she stepped onto the dusty scales and closed her eyes, counting down from five before she opened them again. She looked down at the small screen and thought and felt her stomach clench. She stepped off the scales and then back on, checking it wasn't a fluke. But there was no denying it. The red numbers glared up at her: 84.2. How could she be that light and still look so utterly disgusting? She had thought that when she had reached 100lbs she would look perfect, beautiful. But here she was, 15.8lbs lighter than that and she could still see the rolls of fat that covered her shapeless stomach! She stepped over to her mirror feeling like she was in a dream, her surroundings barely noticeable. In the mirror she saw what she had expected- huge, dimpled thighs with mottled skin; wide calves and thick ankles; huge hips merging into the tyre rings of fat that made up her waist; arms that were so thick, they probably carried at least 20lbs each; and her face, distorted and practically unrecognisable by the fat that consumed it. Slowly, the image began to blur as tears dripped down her face. She slowly collapsed onto the floor and lay there, cuddling her legs, clutching them to her naked torso as she surrendered to the racking sobs.

~*~

Hours passed and soon, lessons for the day had finished and Draco raced away- eager to see Hermione once more. He didn't mind her silence, he could just contemplate her beauty- gaunt and emaciated though she was, he couldn't help but see the beauty in her. He reached her portrait door and spoke the password clearly to the painting. As it swung open, he looked towards her bed instinctively, but all he saw was an empty bed, the sheets rumpled. Then, as he stepped into the room, he looked into the corner and saw Hermione huddled on the floor, her tiny frame shaking. He rushed to her and began to whisper soothing words, hushing her, trying to calm her. She automatically shied away but seemed to give up on the idea and just lay there, allowing him to whisper calming words to her. As he spoke, Draco took in her body. He'd never seen the true extent of her problems before but it was all too visible now- her spine was too prominent, her ribs jutted out too far, her skin too pale and translucent. Her legs looked like they couldn't support her for much longer, they were so tiny and her arms looked like they barely had enough skin to cover the bones. He felt physically sick to his stomach, so disturbed by the idea of her doing this to herself. Suddenly, a small shaky voice broke him out of his horrified reverie.

'It's never going to be enough, is it?' she whispered, her voice distorted by her sobs. 'I did what she wanted. I lost all the weight and more! I did everything! But why aren't I thin, Draco? She promised 100lbs would make me perfect! She promised me Draco! Why aren't I thin and beautiful!? I'm meant to be perfect... like you.' Her voice broke off, choked by her sobs. Draco's eyes began to fill with tears as he realised fully what she had said. He pulled her up to his chest and held her against him.
'Shh, sweetheart. Please, don't listen to her, she's lying to you. You're so much better than perfect. You're so beautiful it's blinding but baby, you have to get better. You have to get past this. Please, it's killing you! And I can't stand to see you hurting. Please, get better, for me. I love you Hermione. And I need you to be alive and well so I can try to convince you to love me.'

Hermione looked up and, hiccupping slightly, asked him curiously, 'What did you say?'
'I said I loved you, you idiot,' he repeated, unable to keep the small smile of his face at her confusion. 'Now, let's get you dressed and into bed, okay?'
With a small, permissive nod from Hermione, Draco left her huddled on the floor as he went to her wardrobe and took out a long gray nightdress and took it back over to her, looking at the abandoned scales with disgust as he passed. He carefully helped her to stand and dressed her before swinging her into his arms, ignoring her squeals of protest, and carried her feather light body to her bed where he lay her down gently. As he pulled the sheets up over her body, she stopped him. Her small hand took hold of his wrist and she tried to pull him towards her. He smiled at her attempt and sat beside her on the bed. He quickly unlaced his shoes and was about to remove his socks when he heard her say behind him, 'Don't.' and at his quizzical look, she blushed and confessed, 'I don't like feet.'

Draco let out a snort, but left his socks on and lay next to her. After a hesitant moment, she cuddled up to his side and laid her head on his chest. Draco sighed in contentment and wrapped one arm around her to rest his hand protectively on her back, while the other gently stroked her mad, curly hair. After a few minutes had passed, she began to speak, without any prompting needed on his side. Over the next hour, the small teenage witch told Draco everything- how her mother had been killed when she was 7, in front of her very eyes, by Death Eaters; how she'd been raised by her deranged, alcoholic father who who found no greater pleasure than beating her within an inch of her life or assaulting her with sexual threats and innuendo; of how her teacher had raped and sent her spiralling into a world full of self harm where she would spend her nights sobbing, begging her knife to hurt her as it tore at her flesh, as she longed for some pain to let her know she was alive, that she was real; and how one small comment about how 'curvy' she was from a friend had twisted and distorted her view, so that her healthy weight of 140lbs at 5'6, had become obscene and no matter how hard she had tried she could only see the fat that seemed to grow on her body. After what seemed like a lifetime, she confessed to Draco how she had now plummeted down to 84.2lbs.

When she was finished, she began to sob again, as if as she'd been talking, she was finally hearing how stupid what she'd been doing was.

Draco just lay there, stunned, as he continued to rub comforting circles on her back until she'd finished crying and began to fall into a deep sleep. His mind was swirling with thoughts, full of Hermione's confessions, making sleep impossible. As the night drifted on, he began to think of his next move. How could he help her? Would she let him? Would she ever let herself get better?

A/N- Heya people of the fanfic world! Sorry I'v been MIA these past 2 years (Almost two years anyway). First year was mainly due to no plot ideas and then just laziness/forgetfullness but then this year I suffered a major relapse with my anorexia and I had to go into Inpatient for a while. But now I'm back and slowly getting better with the support of my family, so yay! :D I hope no-one's too mad at me for the lack of updates! I'll try to update some of my other stories soon but I'm not sure how to end this one so input would be appreciated: a) One more chapter where I conclude it all- probably flashforward- and maybe a sequel later or b) I drag out another couple of chapters with Hermione's recovery. Personally I'm hoping people vote a because I have a better idea of where I can go with it but I want your opinions my lovely reviewers! Please give me feedback, and I hope my writing isn't too dreadful after this long break away from it!

--Love as always, Annamh
xxx