October 28 1999
they used to tell me I glowed
praising my radiance and intelligence
claiming i'd steal the hearts of those I desired
my innocence, a chess piece
my youth, a pawn
they begged me to play
pleading me to glow
over and over
so I did
until the light was blown out.
~
A hangover. A bloody good one at best. The pain in her arm was completely numbed. All that alcohol really kicked in for the better—
Hermione looked around her room. Empty bottles scattered everywhere. Her room. She realized where she was, nestled safely under the covers with her trillion blankets.
Oh god.
Oh god.
She wasn't dreaming or hallucinating. Malfoy had actually found her in the library. Drunk.
Deep breath. She made herself some tea. The first beverage of substance in a week.
Hermione got up to make her way to the dining hall, her muscles aching.
"Hey 'Mione" said Harry.
"Hi Harry," she spoke softly, afraid her words might come out slurred. Her breath smelled of alcohol. Shit.
Interrogation. "Were— were you drinking last night?" asked Harry. Ron's face turned to face her.
Conceit. "No. Well yes, just a little," she admitted.
The dozen empty bottles in her room said otherwise. Thank merlin he brought her back there and not the dormitory.
Her eyes flickered over the lot of Slytherins but an empty seat looked back.
Judgement. "What's happening Hermione? This doesn't seem like something you would do..." Ron said.
Anger. Perhaps it was just her hangover speaking but his tone rubbed her in the wrong way.
Deflection. "I— just needed a break for one night," she said. "Besides who the hell are you to judge, you punch holes through walls when you're upset Ronald."
Harry's face darkened. Only he and Hermione knew of the incident last year.
Attack. "You know what? I don't know what's gotten into you lately, but you're becoming quite the bitch."
Her eyes flared up and the dark circles were visible now.
Concern. "God, Hermione have you gotten any sleep? Maybe you should get some rest. Come, I'll walk you back to the dorm," Harry tugged at her shirt.
"NO—It's fine Harry, I can walk myself. Thanks."
She got up from the table, skipping breakfast and went back to her room. She noticed Malfoy's seat was still empty.
Defeat. Hermione began picking up the empty bottles and fixing the room as her thoughts ran wild again. So many expectations. Such high standards. Why? Oh right, she was Hermione bloody Granger. Sometimes she wished she could just not be her for one day—to escape to the ocean with her mom—to not be pitied by her friends. To escape her mind and the deteriorating body attached to it.
She walked to the bay window, the same one Malfoy had been standing at when she had seen him about to jump. It was a sunny day— no rain or thunder. She opened it, taking in the fresh autumn air. Hermione preferred the rain, the sound of it trickling against her window soothed her and reminded her of one of her father's favourite stories—the day he'd kissed her mother for the first time—under the pouring rain. She'd wondered whether one day, she too would fall in love under the rain.
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𝐁𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 | Dramione
Fanfictie[DRAMIONE] Post-war fic. Voldemort is dead. 8th year. The war is over but even a year later, lingering scars make it hard to forget. Hermione battles with the demons in her head and makes the terrible discovery that her scars were poisoned by Bella...
