Cursed | Draco Malfoy

Three

Hermione was never the kind of girl to ever cry over childish, humiliating behaviours or things in general. Most of the time, she would handle in a way the brightest witch should — maturely and calmly. 

This time, it was different.

She shut the door to her common room as she bit back her tears. She hated Malfoy, no — she detested him. What was his bloody problem anyway? Why couldn't the blimey twat leave her alone?

Angry, frustrated tears dropped out of her almond shape-eyes. As she sat down on her bed. Peering all over the velvet-gold bedroom, furiously swiping the tears off her damp cheeks. Just then, the door had swung open.

"Hermione, have you seen-"

She glanced at the person that had interrupted, only to see Harry. The boy she'd met first year. Ever since, she thought of Harry as almost like a brother, one she never had.

Harry saw the distinguished look of agony and weeping as he paused in the middle of question. "Have you been crying? What's wrong?" He immediately asked, curiosity but worry mostly for his friend.

She sniffled, hugging her knees to her chest — not daring to look into his green-blue eyes again. She hated crying in-front of others, she felt weak, in need of someone else's comfort to battle with the dark thoughts and feelings that tormented her.

Truth be told, ever since last year - things have been uneasy for Hermione. Hogwarts didn't feel like the once happy, magical place her 11 year old self adored. It felt, dark — like something was coming. The air shifted ever since the Triwizard Tournament last year, watching her best-friend suffer immensely and having to bare the witness of seeing Cedric Diggory drop dead to the floor.

Something felt off, ever since the return of you-know-who — everyone kept trying to convince not only themselves, but the ministry trying to make everyone believe that the situation had been resolved — that it's in the right hands. She scoffed in her mind, she didn't believe it for a second.

She let out a breath, "It's just embarrassing, Harry." A crease formed between his eyebrows, as he sat down on the opposite bed across her.

"What is?"

She shook her head once more, an expression of agony and humiliation bestowed on her face.

"It's Malfoy isn't it?" Harry spat with disgust, with a glance at him then pack on-to the corner of the room — she rested her head in her arms, knees still up to her chest as her eyes glistened.

"I'm sick of him," she mumbled.

"Is he bothering you? I swear to Godric, that little twit-" he began to stand up, and Hermione jolted. She knew if Harry had gone up to him and told him to bugger off, it would cause more trouble. Hermione wasn't the only victim of Malfoy's on-going tormenting, Harry and Ron had always been apart of it the last few years. However, Hermione had gotten the worst from Malfoy out of all of them.

"Harry, no!" She shot up off the bed, a tender hand to his shoulder. "You'll only make things worse. Malfoy just wants attention like a condescending brat, if you go up to him — you're just giving him what he wants." She spoke.

Harry gave a look, before backing down — but there was no denying his clenched fists that had made his knuckles turn white. "But if he bothers you again-"

Hermione nodded contently, a small smile to her lips. "I know, Harry."

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