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
When Hermione was a little girl, she read all the Muggle fairy-tales. Girls found their true love. Princesses rode off into the sunset with their princes. She had never believed in them, never was one of the girls who wanted to live in them. Furthermore, she didn't need a man to save her; her parents had raised her to be a strong independent woman.
That's what she was. Confident in her abilities, unafraid of venturing out alone to explore and grow as an individual. However, she had always wondered what it felt like to fall in love with someone, what being taken cared of felt like. There was a difference in the way her parents cared for her and how one day her lover would, she imagined. She had fantasized, which teenager hadn't? Obsession it was far from, after all, her early teens had been spent at Hogwarts learning magic and partaking in crazy adventures that were far more challenging and fun than any princess in any Muggle fairy-tale ever did.
But as the years went by, she hadn't found love. No one she believed she would die for. It sounded ridiculous but she wanted what her parents had. An equal, a man who matched her in intellect and spirit. Another stumbling block was her lack of attraction to the wizards around her. While all the other Gryffindor girls had harbored crushes across the school, she couldn't claim to have shared the same emotions.
That was until; during the Triwizard Tournament, she had met Viktor Krum, the handsome Bulgarian who had intrigued her and broken through her walls. He had been a gentleman who had piqued her curiosity and she had fallen for him, the experience being completely new. She was the kind of girl these things didn't happen to. She hadn't been in love with the Quidditch player but she had wanted to be with him.
The coveted Quidditch player picked her, a bookworm from a thousand girls. It had been a weird fairy-tale in her life, she had thought at the time, perhaps too soon. Because after the fairy-tale had come hell, her worst nightmares rolled into one that played into her life...
Ronald Bilius Weasley.
How she had been wrong. Never made a bigger mistake in her life and now she was trapped in her feeling. She hated what they were, what she become with him, what he reduced her to. It was easy now for her when she was alone, to sift through her thoughts and segregate her opinions. But when she was with him she felt like she had no control over herself, he had a hold on her she couldn't explain, the reason she went with everything he did, the reason she never left.....
Her brain, the overpowered part which was still thinking rationally understood how they were poisonous together, the toxicity that rivaled Boomslang venom. Hermione only had to look down at her arms to be reminded right now. They were oozing blood steadily, the rate slower than an hour ago when she had met Ron. Her wrists had bruises, new large coils of purple that snaked around her arms. She had been sitting in the grounds, the Friday atmosphere meaning students had headed off to Hogsmeade after the bell had signaled the last classes for the day.
Ronald had left for a bath after their time together, left her to comfort herself. Damage control. She had run away, she always did. Every time. To pick up her broken mind, to breathe.
This time she had craved the outdoor air to carry away her anxiety. Sitting against her favorite tree, the Lithuanian Berch's trunk was an excellent backrest; she had miserably attempted to use healing spells on her wounds to no avail.
Her frustration was growing with every poorly cast spell, she was Hermione Granger for Merlin's sake but the brightest witch of her age was a blubbering useless mess.
"Can't even cast a decent spell, I see years of magical education have been wasted on you Hermione," she berated herself.
"No wonder you are failing all your classes, walking around like a vampire, blind Hippogriffs could perform better magi----
She stopped her tirade mid-sentence to the approaching footsteps of a cloaked figure. She got up quickly, pulling her cloak sleeves over her arms and gripping her wand in her shaking hand. Stepping out from under the branches of her tree, she stood facing the figure only much to her shock to discover it was none other than Draco Malfoy.
Trouble.
The kind she was clear about avoiding.
"Madam Pomfrey can't do anything to help you if you are talking to the air Granger, you will need to go to St. Mungo's for that," he drawled.
She flinched, she had to leave now. She couldn't hold her own against him, not right now. She brought her arms to her head, in an effort to push her messy hair out of her face. Forgetting all about her exposed wounds. Realizing too late that Draco had seen her gashes in the moonlight they were now both bathed in.
She stammered, hoping to close the situation quickly. She had seen his eyes widen slightly as he had looked at them.
Draco Malfoy was breathing harder, staring at her intensely. Her head was spinning she didn't know what to make off it.
"Use Murtlap essence on the cuts, it soothes the pain," he choked out.
She stared shocked at him; maybe this was her tortured mind's dream?
Hermione Granger turned and ran away again, leaving behind an equally confused mind...
X ~ X
Two updates in one day? Who am I?
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