Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all Harry Potter registered trademarks belong to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I do not claim any rights to that which is protected by such laws. The storyline, however, is mine.
Christmas Eve, On the Edge of the Forbidden Forrest
'Beautiful,' she thought, as she looked upon the crimson falling onto the pure, white snow. It had been so long since she had felt the need to cry. As each tear fell, it burned a path through the blanket of snow and melted it, leaving a red trail. She looked to her arm, from which the drops fell, with mild fascination. A single gash ran from the base of her wrist to her elbow. She felt her body shaking, but whether it was from the bitter cold, or the falling tears, she didn't know. Shaking her head to clear it, she found she was quite tired. As she tried to drift off to sleep, her thoughts fell to the hectic day she'd had.
It had taken the most careful planning, but she was finally going to do it. Harry and Ron had both gone to Phoenix headquarters for the break. The only event that was to be held was the winter ball. As she was head girl, she'd done most of the organizing. She'd just woken up, and was busy making herself look anything but presentable. Her hair was stringy and matted at the same time, a simple spell had given her a slight fever, and she was still wearing her pajamas, which consisted of pale blue lounge pants and a black satin tank top. Quickly, she went to brush her teeth before running into the head's common room and plopping down on the green and gold couch in front of the fire. She pulled out "Hogwarts A History", and checked her watch. It read seven o'clock. 'Good.' She thought. 'I'm still early. I have to seem normal if I want to pull this off.'
Professor Dumbledore was coming to talk with the Heads today about the last minute procedures for the ball. Two minutes before the Professor was supposed to make his appearance, the head boy sprinted into the common room.
"Morning mudblood." He greeted her.
"Morning Draco." She said without looking up from her book. They remained in silence until the professor came in; at which time the last preparations were put in place. After a lot of discussion, and even more arguing between Dumbledore and Draco, everything was in place. Albus was just standing to leave. Suddenly, Hermione burst into a coughing fit. It didn't seem forced or fake, so she assumed the spell had finally taken full effect.
"Hermione, I think it'd be best if you sat this one out. Maybe just come as a student." Professor Dumbledore had turned to her and was now taking notice of her condition.
"But Professor! I need to finish the decorations! And what about the place settings, and the snow enchantments! And the-" Hermione interrupted herself with another coughing fit, which Dumbledore took advantage of.
"They will all be taken care of. I think that your health is more important at the moment," he allowed a small chuckle, "I suppose you've been a bit overworked, so consider this your break!" Said Dumbledore merrily.
"But Professor-" She was cut off again, this time by the Professor.
"No buts. And I'd suggest you have Madame Pomfrey take a look at that cold of yours." Cheerfully he added, "Merry Christmas!" With that, he swept from the room.
"Stupid know-it-all Mudblood!" Draco raged, "Consider yourself lucky. It's no fair! Now I'm going to have to do everything. This is servant's work!" With that, he stormed out of the Common Room, and off to his private chambers.
Hermione allowed herself a small smile of relief. No one suspected anything. She gathered her books and walked to her bedchamber. She set the book down on her desk, and picked up a self-inking quill, a small roll of parchment, and a small shard of never-melting ice. Sighing, she felt the thin blade of ice cut her flesh, a single drop of crimson falling from her arm to the paper, sealing the set spell. Only when the soul left the blood, could the letter be read. She then began to write. As her quill danced across the page, she failed to notice time slipping by. Although it was just past noon, the sky looked dark as heavy snow clouds rolled in and filled the sky.
Numb. That was all that registered in her brain now. The cold of Christmas Eve had long since penetrated her bones. She was no longer sure whether she was capable of movement or not. 'I wonder when someone will read the letter.' She thought. Trying to sleep had been futile; her mind refused to go blank. 'I wonder if any one's noticed I'm gone?' simple thoughts like these pierced her every now and again, each an echo of the previous one. She doubted anyone would notice. Harry and Ron were both away. She'd told Ginny she was staying in her room to rest, and no one else would care.
She glanced down at her shard of ice, clutched in her hand. What had been a pure silver crystal was now coated in crimson along its sharpest edge. The more she looked at the piece, the sadder she became. 'No!' she thought furiously, 'I did not do all that work to give up and break down! I will not be weak, I will not cry!' What was the purpose in speaking aloud, her hollow mind wondered, when there was no one there to hear? Sighing, she picked up a small amount of snow with her bare hand and began to clean the shard.
Looking back towards the castle, she saw the warm golden glow of the candle lit great hall, and she hoped the other students were happy. The first strains of "Noel" floated towards her on the faint wind of burning ice. She felt drowzy now, her mind growing blurry. A single true tear fell from her eye as she realized how she felt. She spoke aloud, her voice scratched from the cold. "I really was a right little know-it-all. I don't deserve to be happy like them. I don't deserve to be happy at all."
Possibly to be Continued
A/N: "Shall we hear more or shall we speak at this?" Please leave a review to tell me how horrible and painful that was to read.