Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Victim of the Fall	By : PrettyDesdemona Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 32726 -:- Recommendations : 5 -:- Currently Reading : 7
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter universe or any of its characters. I do not make any money off this story. Only love!

Chapter List
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CHAPTER 2

I’M NO HEROINE

“When you look at me, do you see my purpose? Do you see my pride?”

Hermione leaped to her feet, fresh excitement and guilt crashing through the atrophy her mind had sunk into. Hadn’t McGonagall made it clear that they weren’t to be living at the school? She could live on her own, free of the burden of other people’s opinions and feelings. That would mean she would have to find somewhere else to live and apparate to and from Hogwarts each day. She could be alone, take care of herself alone and focus on only her own feelings. But where could she go?

Harry came through the kitchen door at that moment, interrupting her thoughts. His face was flushed and glowing from the exercise of the match and he grinned at Hermione as he made his way over to the sink to fill up a glass of water.

“What’s up with you?” he asked breathlessly, in between gulps. She had been standing with her palms pressed against the table, breathing heavily. She sunk back into her chair.

“You know you could just use Aguamenti.” she said distractedly, nodding towards his glass and deflecting his question.

He grinned again and shrugged, wiping his sweaty forehead on his sleeve. “Yeah I know. Force of habit I guess.”

Hermione gave a feeble laugh and fell silent. Harry frowned slightly. “You alright?” he asked.

“Yes!” she replied with a little too much enthusiasm. “Yes I’m fine. Really.”

Harry raised an eye brow and went to sit beside her at the table.

“What’s wrong Hermione?” he asked bluntly, his brow creased with concern.

Hermione watched as the condensation on Harry’s glass formed droplets that sunk slowly down to the table where the wood almost immediately absorbed it. She took a deep breath.

“I don’t know.” she said. “I was just thinking about this.” She stretched out her hand and put the letter in front of Harry, watching his face carefully. He glanced down at it quickly and then back at her.

“What about it?” He was trying to sound non-committal but Hermione could hear the underlying anxiety in his voice.

“Oh you know, just where I’ll live, how I’ll pay for everything… That sort of thing.” She pulled a hair band from around her wrist and tied her hair up into a pony tail as she spoke, trying not to look at her friend.

Harry scoffed. “Well you’ll live here, obviously. Molly and Arthur love having you here, and Ron…-” he stopped and looked away from her.

“What about Ron, Harry?” Hermione asked with just a hint of defiance, jutting her chin out and narrowing her eyes.

Harry flinched in response but did not saying anything. Hermione sighed and leaned forward, resting her forehead on her hand. She turned over the many different possible explanations she could give him in her mind before she decided to just be honest. He was her oldest friend, he deserved her honesty.

“I don’t know if I want to be here anymore Harry. It’s not… It’s just not really working for me.” She looked up at Harry quickly, waiting for his reaction. He remained blank faced but she noticed, panicking, that the happy light that had glowed in his eyes moments earlier, had gone out.

“What do you mean?” he asked in a small voice.

She sighed. “I mean that… Oh I don’t know Harry! There are plenty of reasons why I wouldn’t want to live here anymore.”

“Such as?” he said, quieter still.

“Such as,” she hesitated. “Such as I don’t know how I can cope anymore with living in a place so full of sadness. The battle is over. It’s won. I can’t keep quietly drowning myself in all this regret. And I can’t just sit by and watch as all of you do it either. I want to try my best to move on.”

Harry’s hands had clenched into tight fists, his knuckles white under the pressure. “And you think running away will fix that?” he hissed. “You think leaving your friends behind is going to make it all better?”

“Harry, no.” She reached across the table to lay her hands on his clenched fists but he jerked away from her. “It’s not you or Ginny or even Ron. It’s just all of it, all of us holed up together, it’s not making anyone happy. I’m finding it hard to cope.” Her voice was pleading. She wanted him to understand.

“You think leaving behind the man that loves you is the right thing to do because you can’t handle it anymore?”

“Harry!”

“Can’t take the pressure, Hermione?”

For a moment Hermione could really believe Harry once played host to a piece of Voldemort’s soul. The cruelty of his question made her very bones ache. She slammed her hand down on the table and stood, her chair falling backwards and crashing to the floor as she did so. Harry slowly got to his feet and stared down at her, his face full of acid, and she almost flinched as he raised a hand to run fingers through his hair.

She took a ragged breath and snatched the letter up off the table. “I’m surprised that you have not gathered yet, Harry Potter, that the ‘man who loves me’ would much prefer to sleep in a drain than share a bed with me! And personally, I think I deserve better than that particular brand of love! I’m sorry that I am not Saint Ginny, letting him walk all over me and torture me over and over again all in the name of love!”

“THAT’S LOYALTY!” Harry shouted, pointing his finger in Hermione’s face.

Her eyes filled with traitorous tears that welled and spilt down her cheeks. She ignored them and slapped his hand away from her. “No Harry,” she said, her tone bitter and her voice shaking. “That is cowardice!”

The air hung still between them. Hermione noticed that the muffled voices that had filtered into the kitchen earlier had stopped. Harry looked for a moment as if he might hit her, his eyes shone with rage; then, the fight almost visibly leaked out of him and he sunk slowly back into the chair he had been occupying before the argument and rested his head on his arms. Hermione stood and stared down at him resolutely. Her hands shook.

Tentative steps approached them and Ginny appeared at Harry’s side. She placed her arms around his shoulders and whispered gently into his ear. After a moment she looked up and gave Hermione a reproachful look. Hermione wondered if the younger girl had heard the latter part of their exchange.

Hermione’s skin burned. Ginny treated him as if he had some sort of terminal illness! “Enabler!” she wanted to scream, “He is like this because YOU allow it!”

She turned away, intending to flee to her bedroom, as Ginny shook her head slightly before looking back at Harry. Hermione stopped short as she noticed Ron standing uncomfortably slouched in the doorway. She stared at him, mentally daring him to look back at her, to lock eyes with her again. She saw his eyes flit to hers and away again just as quickly.

“Ginny,” he grunted. “Is he alright?”

“Yeah. I think so.” the young red head replied, giving her brother a meaningful look.

Hermione’s breath caught in her throat and she wanted, more than ever, to be away from them. She turned on her heel and it was all she could do not to run up the stairs. Once inside the room that had once been Ginny’s, she closed the door hastily behind her and paced backwards and forwards, trying to form a plan in her head. She wasn’t going to apologise anymore, she had enough of that. And that’s what they’d expect of her. They’d want her to say sorry. Their problems weren’t hers anymore. It was time to start her retreat. She could write to McGonagall, request her help perhaps?

She could go home.

The thought crashed through her mind like a blow to the face. Suddenly her hands were shaking again and she shook her head. She couldn’t go home. Not like this. She could not bring herself to face her parents. They didn’t deserve to suffer her and her life at the moment. They were happy where they were anyway. Yes. They were happier in Australia.

She would write to McGonagall.

Hermione rushed across the room and pulled a piece of parchment, a quill and a bottle of ink from her dilapidated beaded bag and placed them on floor in front of her as she sat down on the floor boards. She began to write.

Professor,

I have recently received your letter regarding my continued education at Hogwarts.

I understand entirely the lack of space within the castle and would be happy to live at another location. At present I would not desire to continue my residence at the Burrow and would like your assistance in finding other accommodation. I am happy to work for room and board. I would like to move as soon as possible if that can be arranged.

I look forward to hearing from you regarding this matter.

Regards,

Hermione Granger

Hermione folded the letter, resolving to gather her courage and go back down stairs to send it. Harry and Ginny would have surely retreated to their room now after that performance.

As she opened her bedroom door, she heard familiar thudding footsteps moving up the stairs towards her.

“Ron.” The statement was almost a whisper.

The stairwell was dark but she could still see his hulking outline frozen a few feet to her left. She made her way out onto the landing, closing the bedroom door behind her, plunging them both into darkness.

“Ron… Please. Can you look at me?” she asked shakily. Slowly, he turned a walked towards her until they were a foot apart. She could see his hands buried in his pockets and could feel his eyes on her face.

“I’m… I’m leaving.”

She heard a sharp intake of breath but he said nothing. Before she could stop it a sob escaped her lips and without thinking she flung herself into his arms. She buried her face in the nape of his neck and cried, letting the pain fly from her in agonizing waves. Her fingernails dug into his shoulder blades as she clung to him and smelt his familiar, earthy smell and for just a fraction of a second, she felt better.

Please Ron. Please. I need you.

She pressed her lips to his, without waiting for a response, and rested her forehead against his. Almost imperceptibly his weight shifted and she could feel his arms moving to encircle her, to finally love her. But they didn’t. His large hands wrapped around Hermione’s upper arms and gently but forcibly pulled them from around his neck. He pushed her away and began walking up the stairs towards his bedroom.

She sniffed and hugged herself. “Ron?” her voice sounded too calm. “When I go, I won’t tell you where I am. I won’t write to you. But... But if really wanted to talk to me again, there’s always the deluminator right?”

She saw his silhouette nod before disappearing into his room.

She hugged herself as she watching his retreating back disappear into the darkness. Gritting her teeth she tried to force the pain back inside of her, tried to swallow all the shame and guilt that tasted like bile in her throat. Her tears dried up as she stood for a few minutes in that attitude, her eyes pressed closed by the heels of her hands.

Once she had hiccupped herself to silence and wiped the wetness from her cheeks and eyes, she wound her way down the stairs. She walked through the now empty kitchen and out into the garden, where Mrs Weasley was still seated at the wrought iron table. She made her way across the grass, now stained golden in the sunset, gulping breaths of fresh air, hands shaking uncontrollably.

“Molly?”

Mrs Weasley turned to her slowly and gave her a rare smile. “Yes dear?”

“Would it be alright if I used your owl? I want to send a letter to Hogwarts.”

“Of course dear! Have you decided to go back this year?” asked Mrs Weasley.

“Yeah.” Hermione said, trying to fix a smile to her face, silently glad that the older woman seemed rational.

“It’s only a pity you couldn’t convince Ron and Harry to join you! But you know them, both so headstrong!” said Mrs Weasley, laughing.

Hermione gave a feeble chuckle and fell silent. Mrs Weasley looked up at her.

“Is everything alright dear?”

Hermione swallowed hard and felt tears welling in her eyes again. “I’m fine!” she managed to choke out.

Mrs Weasley gave her a doubtful smile and took her hand. She pulled Hermione down to kneel beside her and Hermione lowered her head onto the older woman’s lap. Mrs Weasley stroked Hermione’s hair as the tears came hot and unrelenting again.

“It’s alright sweetheart. It’s over now. You are beautiful and kind and clever and you will be ok! You are beautiful and kind and clever and you’ll be ok.” Mrs Weasley’s voice was quiet and soothing. It felt nice to hear that reassuring tone specifically designed by mothers. With each affirmation Hermione nodded and tried to force herself to believe it.

After half an hour seated like this, Hermione with her head rested on Mrs Weasley’s knee, Mrs Weasley stroking her hair lovingly, Hermione got up.

“Thank you Molly.” she said, grateful.

“Anytime dear.” Mrs Weasley smiled and patted Hermione’s arm.

“I should go and post that letter now!” said Hermione with a watery smile.

She turned to walk away but Mrs Weasley caught her hand. Hermione looked down at her.

“Give my best to Dumbledore.”

Hermione felt her stomach turn over, all the reassuring warmth fleeing from her veins. Reality came crashing back in. She groped for her sanity and forced herself to smile.

“I will.”

A/N Told you I couldn't contain myself!

ECM - My first review! Thank you so much! I'm glad you're loving it. I am loving writing it!

Thanks to all those who have followed as well, I hope I can convince you all to leave me some reviews too!

The quote at the beginning of this chapter is from Ani Difranco's song I'm no Heroine. Her music has served as a huge inspiration for this piece. I own nothing. Thanks Ani!
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Victim of the Fall