When Hermione Fights

The Game Continues

The game continues

It was no wonder when I woke up the next morning at seven o'clock feeling beaten. I wouldn't run today because, thanks to Sirius, I felt like I was surrounded by cotton balls. Thank God, Lav, Pav and the other two were still in a comatose sleep, triggered by the sweets of the Twins, very handy. So I dragged myself like a walking corpse into the bathroom and put myself under an invigorating shower. After my shower, I stepped almost daringly in front of the mirror and looked at my face. I was on the brink of ejecting a shout of rage. What did the stupid mutt think about beating me like that?

I looked coloured like a rainbow, absolutely great. After brushing my teeth, I rubbed the new ointment all over my face and tada! I was a genius! I looked just like new again. I would carry that new ointment with me for the immediate future, so I could quickly apply it again in case the effect would fade. Really wonderful, as if I didn't have to think about anything else. So I stepped back into the dormitory, shining in my natural beauty and dressed in my school uniform and a cloak. Hopefully, the sleeping beauties would soon wake up from their sleep, I thought, and then - with an indifferent shrug - I went to our common room to browse a bit in the books while the first few people slowly began to stir awake. While I sat in my chair, the thought of yesterday came unstoppably along with questions about the why. But seriously, I brutally pushed my whining to the side, 'learn to live with it', because it can't be changed anymore anyway. But there was a sad, empty, and hollow feeling, leaving an acid taste in my mouth. My thoughts went to Draco. Should something change for me because of what Draco had told me?

That he had raped... No, that wasn't true, that he had been forced to rape! What did I think about it? Nothing, I didn't care. Draco didn't change in my eyes, that was something he had to do! And I had noticed that he was sorry, but also that he was resigned to the fact that he had had to do it. I had also learned that my professor had done similar atrocities during his time as a spy, but he didn't like it either, but here too, it didn't change my attitude towards him. It touched me no further, except that I felt compassion for him, for them, as I knew Draco hadn't explicitly liked what he had to do to these women and I respected him even more, felt even closer to him. As I said, we lived in a shitty time, ugly things happened to all of us, so one had to learn to live with it and accept what one did. What really interested me was, had all been watching? Was this a kind of orgy? Or, how would I need to imagine this? The thoughts that went through my head were strange, and the questions were even more unusual, but they came to me quite naturally. What kind of life were we living, that I was asking questions like this? I hope I found the courage to ask him on Saturday!

And for the first time in weeks, I was really glad to see Harry and Ron stepping into the room. I positively beamed at them, but I instantly lost it when I saw Harry's expression, which immediately worried me. What had happened?

"Harry, what happened?" I exclaimed worried and quickly changed seats, sitting down on the couch next to him. "What's wrong?" I asked urgently.

"Oh.. Hermione, if I tell you, you'll just be angry with me again!" he said sadly, his eyes unhappy.

"I promise faithfully, I won't be angry with you, please trust me, what happened?" I thought that it could only be something important, since his tone was so tense.

"I... I've had a lot of headaches and my scar hurt too in the last few weeks, it's almost unbearable sometimes... especially at night!" he whined, pressing his fist to his reddish bolt-shaped scar.

"Do you think it's coming from him?" I asked, whispering, somewhat insecure and slightly frightened. Apparently, the connection between the two went deeper than previously assumed, but was it good or bad for us? Harry nodded sadly, but was clearly relieved that I took him seriously and that I could say the terrible assumptions out loud, that he wouldn't even dare to speak.