Hermione Granger is scared. The nightmares are frequent and sleep is rare. Her relationship with Ron is not what she thought it was. Stuck in a circle of despair she is trying hard to regain the famed Gryffindor courage while maintaining appearance...
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~Hermione Granger
She didn't even bother sleeping that night. How could she? To think of all the experiences she had since the start of her magical education, every dangerous thing she had ever undertaken alongside Harry and Ron, a chance encounter with Draco Malfoy of all people in the dark cimmerian clutches of the night would be the thing that would keep her awake.
She despised the lumbering of her mind. Why of all things did Draco Malfoy have had to be the one to witness her most embarrassing moment so far in the year. Merlin knew her luck was miserable if it even existed.
She brought her fingers up to her temple that pulsed at her barrage of rumination. Hermione Granger felt like she was marinating from the inside out, endless entries of distress looping into her DNA. Now a new one to add to the assemblage.
The strangest thing had been how she had barely registered his ivory body, in her breakdown she had sensed a calm that pulled her to his torso.
She had wanted to lay her head against his chest.
Had needed to feel close to another body that bled warm blood just like hers, that experienced ecstasy like hers could. She didn't question the instinctual feeling, a convict doesn't question freedom. She merely embraced it openly, a heady exchange of raw tension. He had quietly seemed to have drawn her in, a strong rope pulled to a coil.
She needed to blank her mind, thoughts like this, in the current atmosphere especially for someone like Malfoy were perilous. She had been confused and in her distress had pursued comfort. It was a small slip, she told herself and she needed to be quiet about it. She wouldn't mention it to anybody. Making up her mind about avoiding all contact with any Slytherins she rolled over onto her side and awaited breakfast. Maybe a routine hard day would numb her?
She prayed it did.
A few hours later found her in the common room alone waiting for Ron to get ready so that they could head off to breakfast together. Harry had already left, mumbling about saving them seats in the Great Hall. She leaned against the plush sofas, picking at lint on her sleeves, rolling up Crookshanks's auburn hair off of her jet black cloak.
Hearing loud thumps from the top of the stairs she looked up to see Ron thudding down, a sour expression already plastered across his freckled face. She internally rolled her eyes, instantly wary. Trust Ron to be in a bad mood right at the beginning of the day.
He dragged himself over to her and grabbed her curls pulling her face up to his. He leaned to kiss her, slobbering would have been a more appropriate word. And he was being rough, her hair hurt from where he was tugging, an ache building up in her arched neck. She didn't respond, closing her mouth tightly and wondering how much he had messed up her hair.
A few moments of awkward embracing later that consisted of her standing stock still and him quivering in excitement, he finally pulled away from his expression now even more annoyed.
Gripping her hand tightly he pulled her to his side and with a look that seemed to communicate that he would sort this out after breakfast he clambered out towards the Great hall with her in tow.
She thanked Godric that Hogwarts students wore dark cloaks. The bruises from the numerous times Ronald had pawed at her thighs would otherwise be too visible. She had tried concealment charms off course but they didn't remain for long, the daily addition of new charms piling onto each other reduced their effectiveness. She hated her thighs she supposed, hated how disgusting the marks looked. She hated what they signified even more.
However, it had become such a regular thing in her tumultuous relationship with Ronald that she barely registered them anymore, after the initial pain all the injuries felt the same. She felt like a serpent struggling to shed her battered skin.
Entering the Great hall had been mortifying. She had felt like a little child being dragged to school by her father who pulled the stumbling kid by hand. She concentrated on hiding her face and tried to match Ron's fast pace. Falling would only make it worse. Reaching Harry, they quickly plopped down, Ron pulling her into his lap slightly. Her perch was really awkward and she was scared to eat in case she spilled anything. That would piss him off more. So she ignored her stomach's hungry rumblings, nibbling at whatever she could reach and wincing periodically at his tight hook on her knee.
She was not weak. Just numb. Tired of conflict. Of argument. Her body just resorted to taking blows her mind could not take any more.
After breakfast, right before class started, Ron dragged her into a supply closet to give her a piece of his mind. A routine occurrence. Damn her for wishing for routine, she didn't want this.
"What's got into your head Hermione ?" he demanded.
"Too busy for your boyfriend? "
"I was really sleepy Ronald," she whispered praying it would soothe him.
"You always are, you walking skull, which I don't understand because you refuse to let me keep you up at night". " Giving somebody else the time of the day, are we? when was the last time you slept with me," he spat.
She looked down. Bile was fast rising in her. Surprising because she hadn't had anything to eat. They were going to be late for class.
She wanted to cry.
"Please," she begged her tongue rolling easily over the frequently used term.
"We will see how tired you are tonight yeah?" "You better be waiting for me Mione", he purred, his voice sickly sweet.
Nausea was her best friend. Breathing deeply, she blanked her face poker straight and looked back at him. Satisfied with her acceptance of his orders he walked out of the closet heading towards class late.
No one noticed a brown-haired witch huddled among the cleaning supplies, shaking in the spider-webbed, dusty pea sized room...
X ~ X
Trigger warning babes. This chappie contains abuse. Never said my story will be peaches and rainbows. Ron is an asshole in my story.
Hermione isn't weak. You will see later on as we get on with the story why she is the way she is. I like my woman strong don't worry darlings. And she is. Abuse victims re really confused forced to stay out of a range of emotions which I hope to convey in my narrative.
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