Initium Novum || Dramione

Chapter One

It's never-ending. A roll of scenes playing over and over again. During the day they flashed before her eyes and constantly plagued her dreams, or nightmares to be more accurate. It hurts. So much fucking hurt. 

Hermione was jolted out of her thoughts by a loud squeal. The whistle of the Hogwarts train, the chattering students, the squeaking of wheels. All familiar sounds surrounding her. It felt like a hurricane, a barricade, trapping her in. She stepped on the train alone for the first time since first year, sighed heavily and took a swig from her flask, wincing slightly. She found an empty compartment, closed it and settled down for the journey.

Draco had felt like his head was going to explode. The cool glass of the window had provided brief seconds of cool relief before it faded. He had left the compartment, quickly finding another in which he unceremoniously threw himself onto the seat trying to dim the pounding of his head. He hadn't even noticed her as she sat quietly watching as he dragged a calloused hand across his face. Then he looked up. 

He shut his eyes then reopened them taking all of her in, his gaze slightly unfocused. He registered the dark circles under her eyes and the red of her eyes. He left. She took out her flask. 

Hermione wasn't really aware of anything as she stepped off the train. The rain pattered loudly against the train. She hadn't changed into her Hogwarts robes, she was still clutching her flask and she hadn't even put on a coat. She let herself be left behind the crowd. Alone and soaking wet.

She made her way up to Hogwarts on foot. She had missed the last of the carriages. By the time she reached the entrance, her jumper was soaked through and her eyes stung. She vaguely considered drying herself but as she took another swig from the flask the thought seemed to drift away. She entered the Great Hall. Eyes snapped to her. She sat down at the end of the Gryffindor table. Isolated.

His eyes caught the small flask mostly concealed by her hand. He suppressed the urge to smile as she walked steadily to the Gryffindor table and sat alone. Then as if the Golden Girl hadn't just walked in extremely late and soaked to the bone, conversation resumed. She sunk in her seat, not eating, just drinking from that damned flask. 

Her face remained expressionless throughout the entire dinner. She ignored everyone. At the end when McGonagall requested the Eighth years remain put, she stared. They were sleeping on the third floor. She listened as her dorm assignment was read out, ("Granger Hermione, Room 7"). She was out the door, completely ignoring her friends. Weird. It wasn't his business anyway.

Hermione collapsed as soon as she reached the dorm allowing exhaustion to take over. 

She woke with a splitting headache the next morning. Groaning, she dragged herself out of bed, glancing at the clock. Five thirty. She climbed out her window onto the small balcony. She needed a smoke. Six o'clock. She needed a shower. She felt disgusting. Six thirty. She was in her bathrobe. Comfortable. She needed a drink. Seven o'clock. She was dressed. She was tipsy. She needed to unpack. Seven thirty. Her room was a mess. She read Pride and Prejudice. Eight o'clock. Breakfast. Get her schedule. Eight thirty. Class. 

It was only when she sat down at the back of the transfiguration classroom did she feel any normalcy. McGonagall nodded her head. Hermione nodded in response. She liked it better when people weren't trying to make her smile.

She sighed. She really needed to get her shit together.