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A/N: Hello my friends. Guess what? The inspiration came!! I’ve found a plotline that I am extremely excited about…hope you like it. Sorry this has been a little slow on the update, hopefully chapter six is in validation right now! By the way, I've changed the story into a there is a lot more to come! Enjoy!

Loneliness and Secrets

She wasn’t quite sure why Malfoy was having such a strong impact on her, but perhaps at that moment, when he was showing such compassion, he really cared about her feelings. The thought terrified Hermione, but what she didn’t know was that in the next room, Draco Malfoy was resting his own body against the twin of the door Hermione lay upon.

What she didn’t know was that they were actually in very similar worlds; much less opposites than she would think.

The next morning, Hermione rolled out of her bed after two hours of sleep, stretched her aching legs, and crept over to the bathroom. The tiles were cool on her feet, causing a shiver to run up her spine. Gripping the counter, she leaned over the sink, glaring at her reflection. She hoped that perhaps she had undergone a great transformation the previous night, leaving her beautiful and pure, just like in the fairy tales. But when the same dull eyes stared back at her, she shoved her hands off of the marble and slunk back into her room, closing the door quietly behind her. She didn’t want to make a sound.

Then someone might remember she was there.

She changed out of her pajamas and pulled on her loosely fitted robes; she had gone a size up this year, to ensure that her sleeves would always cover her scars. She lazily climbed out of the portrait hole, running her fingers through her hair, but stopped dead in her tracks when her toes landed on the second stair.

Draco was sitting on one of the couches, back facing her, reading The Daily Prophet in front of a roaring fire.

He seemed to sense her presence; his head spun around as their eyes locked. Hermione detected a trace of intense emotion, which was quickly covered by clouds of indifference. He broke the gaze, returning his eyes to The Prophet and leaving her confused. Even though it was way too early, Hermione tore down the stairs and out of the common room towards breakfast, eyes never leaving the tiny hole in her black trainer.

Nothing had changed.


Hermione paced back and forth in front of the oak doors of the Great Hall. Every step to the left she would glance at the huge clock; it still read 7:07. After a few more minutes, students would begin trickling into the area, and she was still debating whether she should eat before they arrive then escape, or wait for Harry. On her 118th pace, Hermione turned around and found herself nose-to-nose with Ginny Weasley. She jumped in shock and flew backwards.

“Merlin, Ginny. You gave me a fright!” Hermione exclaimed, clutching her chest and momentarily forgetting the barriers she had placed between them. But when she saw the surprise in Ginny’s expression, she remembered and slowly turned away.

“Hermione, wait!” Ginny shouted in anguish. “Hermione seriously, you need to let me talk to you!”

“Why?” Hermione cried, whirling around so quickly that her hair whipped against her face. “Why do you want to talk to me? I killed your brother, Ginny! I killed Ron. Killed. I am a murderer; I don’t deserve anyone talking to me!”

Ginny stood in silence; the fiery redhead was stunned.

Hermione turned to leave again, but Ginny caught her right wrist. Cringing in pain, Hermione snatched it away, recoiling from the Weasley’s touch and holding her arm close to her body.

“Just stop it,” Hermione said, holding in the tears that were threatening to fall. “Leave me alone!”

Ginny stared at her with hard eyes. “Let me see your wrist, Hermione.”

“What?” Hermione spluttered. “What…no!”

But it was too late. Ginny had grasped her wrist and pulled up her heavy sleeve. When Ginny’s eyes fell upon the scar, her mouth fell open in shock, and her hands fell limply to her sides.

Cursing the Laws of Magic, Hermione ran her eyes over the thin red line as well. The Healers at St. Mungo’s had told her that they could heal a cut or erase a scar in an instant, but self-inflicted wounds were impossible to remove. The scars would stay with her until she died; by nature’s doing, not by her own hand.

Hermione yanked her sleeve back down and met Ginny’s horrified stare. “I don’t need you’re pity,” she spat.

With those words of hate, Hermione twisted away and made for her escape. When she looked up, however, she was met by a thick crowd of speechless people. Her gaze flew to the clock: 7:15. Breakfast had begun. Eyes dancing from each bewildered face, Hermione felt tears sting her cheeks. Flying through the throng of people, Hermione didn’t allow her sobs to erupt until she reached the safety of the Gryffindor Common Room.


After a long cry, Hermione had told Harry everything of the morning’s events. She finished her tale and lifted her eyes to meet his. She saw pity, which made her stomach boil, but she held in her fury, not wanting to destroy another friendship that morning. Thankfully, she didn’t have to gaze into those pitying green eyes for much longer, for they were quickly covered by sympathy.

Why does everybody feel like they can’t their show true emotion around me? Is it these scars on my wrists?

“Don’t worry, Hermione,” Harry said reassuringly. “I’ll speak with Ginny.”

“No you won’t! Just leave it, Harry. I really must be getting to class.” Hermione began gathering herself back together.

Wiping her tearstained face, she gave Harry a weak smile and swept out of the Common Room before he could say a word in response.

She left him staring at the empty portrait hole, mind spinning with worry.


The next few weeks were uneventful, excluding the constant whispering that erupted every time Hermione walked through the halls. They now knew about one of her darkest secrets. The only solace Hermione found was in Harry, yet she still couldn’t spend much time with him due to their busy schedules and her constant duty as Head Girl.

She and Draco still hadn’t spoken since that night, he did not acknowledge her presence, and she mirrored that technique.

It was a cold Friday night. The seasons had progressed into winter, and as Hermione sat in her bedroom she watched the snow drift by her, catching on the windowsill. She sat until an inch of snow had accumulated on the ledge, just staring at the contrast between the pure white against the gathering gloom in the sky. When it was completely dark, Hermione pushed herself out of the deep, soft chair and padded over to her desk.

Inhaling the sweet scent of parchment, Hermione dipped her quill into her ink pot and began her classwork. In a mere thirty minutes, she was finished. Sighing, she flopped onto her bed, sprawled out on her back; gazing at the candles that floated above her.

Harry and Ginny were spending the evening together, leaving Hermione completely alone.

As the loneliness swept over her, the memory hit her full blast…

She, Harry, and Ron were all sitting around a table at the Burrow. Harry and Ron were playing chess, while Hermione watched with bored eyes, with nothing else to do but wait for the rest of the Weasley family’s arrival. It was the spring holidays; she and the boys had arrived the previous day while the rest of the Weasley clan was due in a few hours. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were on holiday in Romania, visiting Charlie, and would be back the following day.

Hermione looked up at Ron who grinned sheepishly as he ordered his bishop to battle with Harry’s rook. When his bishop knocked the rook unconscious, smugly throwing his spear over his shoulder and smirked up at them, screaming: “CHECKMATE!”, Ron beamed at Hermione and grasped her hand. His touch still sent shivers down her spine, even after two months of dating. They held each others’ eyes, sending waves of love crashing between them, two hearts beating each to each..

Their moment was interrupted by a loud crash outside of the house, followed by another. They jolted apart and the three of them were instantly on their feet, wands at the ready.

Several more crashes sounded in the backyard. Harry spun around, facing the backdoor, and the three friends created a circle, backs pressed each other; protecting one another.

Both front and back doors were momentarily illuminated by a deep red light, before they came smashing out of their hinges and falling to the ground. In a matter of seconds, a dozen Death Eaters had surrounded the trio, wands poised for the kill.

A Death Eater in front of Harry spoke first. “Harry Potter. We meet again.”

It was Lucius Malfoy.

“Well, well, well. Aren’t we in a tight situation?” Malfoy sneered, pulling off his mask. “Twelve powerful Death Eaters against three, poorly trained, teenaged wizards…My, my, we are in trouble.”

“Well this is an all time low,” Hermione cut in. “I’d expect more, even if you are Death Eaters.”

“Don’ you see, Mudblood? You say Death Eater like it is a bad thing! Being a servant to the Dark Lord is honor. One you will soon come to understand…” Lucius cried, stepping forward into the center of the circle.

Though perplexed by his last comment, Hermione continued. “What is honorable about breaking into peoples’ homes, Malfoy? Doing Voldemort’s bidding? I see no honor there.”

“Lies!” Lucius shouted. He flicked his wand and Hermione was caught in his spell. Her wand fell to the ground and Harry and Ron watched in terror as her feet lifted off the floor and she began floating towards Malfoy. She twisted and screamed, fighting the curse, but she only kicked the air as she continued to drift in the Death Eater’s direction. Once she was in his grasp, the curse was lifted but Lucius’ wand was immediately relocated. It was now pointing at her neck.

“Now boys,” he snarled. “Let’s not do something rash.”

Hermione met Ron’s eyes and he was terrified by the horror they were filled with as she struggled against Malfoy’s grip.

Lucius noticed the looks they were exchanging, and glancing back and forth he grinned. “Ah, worried for you’re little sweet, Weasley?” he said.

Ron’s eyes widened in shock.

“Well I can’t say I don’t blame you,” Lucius ran a finger down her cheek. “Such a pretty girl…”

“LET HER GO!” Ron screamed.

“Touched a nerve have I?” Malfoy was playing with Ron now; Hermione was the toy.

“Ronald, stop it! I’m fine.” Hermione managed to say before Lucius dug his wand further into her windpipe.

“Listen to your girlfriend, boy. Even Mudbloods are intelligent sometimes…”

“Ron! Ron, no!” Harry shouted.

But it was no use. Ron whipped out his wand and took a step forward, only to be greeted by eleven other wands pointed directly at his chest. He paused, eyes flying from the Death Eaters’ wands to Hermione’s pleading eyes.

In her mind, Hermione was repeating the same phrase, over and over: Get Harry Out.

She was begging the words to fly to Ron’s brain, when she remembered reading in a spell book about telepathic connections. They required the strongest of emotional connections…

Step One: Picture the words in your mind.

Hermione saw the words being scratched out in her neat handwriting somewhere between her brain and her eyes.

Step Two: Envision them leaping into your partner’s mind.

She saw them inching over to Ron and she shoved them into a gallop.
Step Three: Speak the words again and again in you head.

Get Harry Out. Get Harry Out. Get Harry Out…
Step Four: Picture the words in your partner’s head, each letter filled to the brim with your voice.

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut.

Step Five: See the swollen letters bursting in your partner’s head, ringing through his body.


Hermione’s eyes flew open, only to see Ron stagger and clutch his head. He jerked his face towards her in awe, and she knew that she had succeeded.

The wonder in Ron’s expression disappeared as Hermione gave a tiny nod. He gazed at her with knowing eyes and returned the gesture.

He began slowly stepping backwards, holding his palms up defensively, until he reached Harry.

“Fine…I’ll stay calm. Just swear you won’t touch her!” Ron said.

“It’s a bit late for that request, Weasley,” Malfoy sneered, still clutching Hermione’s helpless form.

“Going to be that way are we? Fine then…Expelliarmus!” he cried, thrusting his wand in the direction of a tall Death Eater to Hermione’s left.

As the man shot backwards, Harry followed suit and began shooting hexes, jinxes, and curses at the enemy. Hermione had no choice but to sit and watch the battle, still struggling against Lucius Malfoy’s grip. She felt a purple jinx graze her ear, singeing her wild hair.

“RON! RON, GO!” she shrieked, now struggling desperately in Malfoy grasp.

Their eyes locked once more before he bounded up to a Harry, who was crouching uncomfortably, and clasped onto his sweater.

“I’ll be back for you Hermione! I promise.” he screamed over the chaos.

“Seize them!” Lucius screamed.

“RON!!!” Hermione shrieked as she saw a green light flying towards her love’s chest, tears streaming freely down her face. But the killing curse never hit flesh, for Ron and Harry had disapparated.

There was a loud crash of the curse hitting the wall, and many shattered bricks fell to the ground. The dust cleared, leaving nothing but silence.

“HOW DID YOU LET THEM GET AWAY? YOU FOOLS!” Malfoy shouted at his comrades.

“Ron, oh Merlin…” Hermione was leaning over now, Lucius gripping her wrists, her knees on the ground and her arms held behind her. Her head was bent over and her chest was heaving with shallow breaths.

“Get up, you filthy little Mudblood.” Lucius jerked on Hermione’s arms, redirecting his attention to his remaining prisoner.

She yelped in pain but pushed herself off of the floor nonetheless.

“The family resemblance is uncanny,” she spat.

“Be quiet, Mudblood. You have no right to speak to me like that,” Lucius growled. “Take you’re seat.” He gestured towards the throne-like chair at the head of what used to be the Weasley family dinner table, and summoned it to him, banging it into the back of Hermione’s knees and forcing her into the seat. With a twirl of his wand, snake-like ropes coiled out of its tip, slithering around her and binding her to the arms and legs of the chair.

“Tonight is a very momentous occasion, Granger,” Lucius began. “Are you feeling nervous?”

“Ron will be back for me,” Hermione said fiercely, fire burning in her eyes. “With help too…you’ve got no chance Malfoy!”

“SILENCE!” he shouted. “I don’t think you can bet on you’re little friends coming to the rescue anytime soon…”

Hermione’s eyes widened.

“What have you done to them? Malfoy! I’ll kill you!! I’ll kill—”

“Yes, I think I’m becoming very tired of this,” Malfoy said lazily, and with a flick of his wand a gag was wrapped tightly over mouth. “Now listen, Mudblood. You’re getting on my last nerve, and if the Dark Lord wasn’t due to arrive in a matter of minutes I would have killed you seven times already.”

A tighter breathing took over, and as she began weakly fighting against her bindings, the clock on the wall struck once…twice…thrice…

Everyone froze.

When the twelfth and final chime rang out, a dark, gaseous form in front of Hermione began materializing. She watched in terror as each particle came together, bonding with each other until a black figure stood before her. A pale head emerged from the smoke, and she realized that the darkness before her was a cloak.

She realized that before her was Lord Voldemort.

As the Dark Lord’s crimson eyes ran over her, Hermione realized that she was shaking from head to toe. He came closer, so that his face was lined up with hers, and she practically felt the power radiating off of him.

“Hermione Granger. How nice of you to join us,” he said.

Goosebumps erupted along her arms. Her panic must have shown across her face, for Voldemort laughed. He waved his hand over her mouth and her gag disappeared.

Hermione glared at Voldemort, and sparks fizzled out of her hair.

Staring at her with interest, the Dark Lord spoke. “Yes, I think you will prove quite useful…”

“No! Ron will come back for me. He and Harry will get past anything you sent for them!” she cried.

“Silly girl, do you really think I managed to send someone to the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix?” he dismissed her with a condescending tone.

“But…” Hermione trailed off, staring at Malfoy.

Suddenly Voldemort understood.

“Ah, Lucius told you that they were in great danger, did he?” Hermione nodded slowly.

The Dark Lord turned to Malfoy. “That was very kind of you, Lucius. Yet unnecessary.” Lucius bowed deeply and whispered apologies, but Voldemort waved him away. He returned his gaze to Hermione.

“You see, Granger. Lucius here tried to protect you from what was destined to occur,” yet Hermione still looked confused, so he continued on. “Your dear friends aren’t coming back for you, they are leaving you here. Alone.”

As Lord Voldemort said it, Hermione knew that it was the truth. It was at that moment, that she felt the most alone. The most lost.

So when the Dark Lord asked her to extend her left arm, she pulled up the sleeve of her white blouse with dead eyes and accepted her destiny. When Voldemort pressed his wand to her porcelain skin, she felt no pain, only the current of power surging through her body.

Lord Voldemort seemed satisfied, and within a minute of completing the marking, he materialized in a cloud of darkness.

When all the Death Eaters had left the Burrow, Hermione sat in silence, unmoving, in the same chair she had received the Dark Mark in. Staring at the clock.

Tick. Tock.

Tick. Tock.

When it stuck one o’clock, Hermione was jolted out of her trance. She stood and disapparated to Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place.

She walked up the steps to Grimmauld, approaching the door, lifting the serpent knocker and letting it fall with a thud against the hardwood. When it opened, Hermione was immediately enveloped in a strong pair of arms. She buried her face Ron’s shoulder as he stroked her hair.

“Merlin, Hermione. I am so sorry,” he whispered in her ear.

And as the tears began to leak out of her eyes, Hermione realized that she could never tell Ron about what had happened at the Burrow. The pain of knowing what he could have prevented would tear him apart. No. It would be a secret she would take to the grave…

Hermione curled up into the fetal position, pulling her knees to her chest and hugging them as if they were a companion.

But that night, for the first time since the night she had just relived, Hermione was completely alone.

Only her memories were there to keep her company, swirling over her body and seeping through her soul.

A/N: Hey guys! What did you think? A bit morbid, I know. But we had to understand why she did it, right?
I would love to hear anything you have to say about this story, and your reviews have been out of this world…I think the total number doubled after the last update. Keep up the fantastic work!
Sorry if you catch a few movie quotes in this story…I tend to do that subconsciously!
I swear that I will answer every single review. I actually enjoy writing to you guys and I’ll try to answer all the questions you might have.
Without giving anything away, that is! =]

Hoping that chapter six will be completed by the time this is validated.

P.S. Did anyone catch the fact that Hermione was wearing a white shirt when she received the Dark Mark? I’d like to think that it was the last time she wore that color; before her innocence was stolen. Oh, I am a clever one… =]

P.P.S “Two hearts beating each to each” is a quote from the Robert Browning poem, Meeting at Night, and “a tighter breathing” is from Emily Dickinson’s A Narrow Fellow in the Grass. Wow. This is a long author’s note…and I think I just managed to burn my forehead on a light…I’m going to go take care of that! haha

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