When Love Hurts | Dramione - COMPLETED

Crown

Hermione's POV 

Five minutes later, she had successfully Apparated to the Headmaster's office without Splinching herself or the floating Draco next to her.

She estimated that she only had about three minutes before Voldemort got bored of torturing Bellatrix, and Bellatrix wouldn't waste any time doing silly stuff like healing herself after getting tortured. 

She furiously chanted under her breath as she scanned the office for the ring. It had been trashed - all the portraits were empty and ripped, Dumbledore's curious artifacts all in pieces on the ground, and a single phoenix feather on the ground. Hermione shuddered, hoping the bird hadn't died - for real. She noticed the Sorting Hat was nowhere in sight, and she hoped that Dumbledore sent it somewhere safe before Bellatrix trashed the office. 

Dumbledore... 

He was nowhere in sight. She had run through most of the main areas on the way to the Forest, and she hadn't seen him once. Usually, he would be battling the strongest, protecting all the students and commanding the attention of everyone. 

But the old coward had run away, leaving them to fend for themselves.

She wouldn't think of that right now. She glanced up at the floating Draco. She had more important things to think about. 

If I were a crazed woman trashing a teacher's office, where would I lose my master's most prized posession. 

Hermione's pacing slowed. This was hopeless!

"Looking for something?" 

Hermione shrieked and send a random hex towards the voice. Her curse disintegrated the already shattered remains of some artifact. Right next to it, a young woman, sixteen at the most, was in a portrait. 

"You scared me," Hermione's tone was clipped as she lowered her wand. "Sorry."

The girl's eyes danced in amusement. "Oh, it's no problem. That madwoman trashing the place and you nearly hexing me is the most excitement this dreary office has seen for years! All the other portraits fled, but I stayed and watched. I mean, I've already been impaled by a painting and been killed, so what do I have to lose?"

Hermione was trying to focus on her hunt for the ring, but the girl was distracting her. She lifted up a pile of parchment, checking under it. "A - a painting?"

"Oh, some bitter ex," the girl waved her hand. She had a Southern accent. "You know, the usual. Angry because I was better than them. Angry that I deserved better than them. Angry I hurt their macho-ness because I dumped them. So he killed me."

"Oh," Hermione said after an awkward pause. "That's, um, sad."

"After a couple of years I got bored of haunting him, though," she continued, oblivious of Hermione's stressed state. "I'm also a ghost in Hogwarts, you know. Me and my ghost form have conversations often. It's interesting. But I drove him to the point of nearly killing himself, and then he had to waste his life rotting in a cell for physical assault when he tried to attack me and attacked a little boy instead. I'm Alicia, by the way!"

Hermione's eyes widened. The ghost's story was disturbing, but she had also heard footsteps thundering up the staircase. 

"Did you see where she dropped the ring?" Hermione asked urgently. "Please, it's really important, and for - "

" - the greater good," the portrait rolled her eyes. "Well, you only have a few seconds to live, so why not?" 

Hermione scrambled to grab the dainty piece of jewelry from under a cabinet the ghost had pointed to. She hastily poured the vial of blood over it before she touched it, hoping that was how it worked. She hadn't had the chance to do much reading in all the chaos.