Author Note: so first, I am NOT english, therefore I may make some mistakes. Please notify them to me, and don't be to hard. Constructive criticism is accepted, but please don't be hateful. So here we are, another new story. It struck me while I was having a shower and I have some darn good plans for this story. Also please mind that this is rated M for a reason, so if you have a sensitive mind, don't read this. You have been warned fellow. It is rated M for mild-swearing, triggers, self-harm and some adult themes suggested.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, I only own the plot, saddly :3

Anyway, now on with the story.

"I wish I were a girl again, half-savage and hardy, and free."

- Wuthering Heights, Emily Brontë-

Hermione sat on the furthest compartment of the train, far away from her fellow classmates. Nor Ron or Harry where coming to Hogwarts this year, they were on their way to become Aurors. Not that it mattered anyway, they hadn't spoken to her in weeks. Nevertheless she was truly happy for them, se really was.

Harry had married Ginny weeks after the Final Battle, and now the red-haired witch was three months pregnant or so. She was the only one who kept her on a friend basis, and she was really greatful for that.

Things with Ron after the War hadn't gone as well as she expected. She had a crush on him for like forever, but their chemistry soon went down after a few weeks. He ditched her after two months being with her and one month cheating her, with none other than the stupid bint, Pansy Parkinson. He blamed her for their break up. He told her that she was a prude, that she was a fucking stupid bitch who was too ugly for "a man as dashing as him", and that se was fat, bossy and annoying. With that he left. He left forever. And Harry went with him this time, this time no one stood up for her, only Gin, but even that didn't make a difference, because her long-life friends, her "brothers-in-heart-but-not-in-blood" left her. They left her bloody alone. She had to have something done to deserve that, didn't she?

And that's how all went to hell. She fell in depression. She cut her wrists, feeling guilty, guilty, guilty. Her arms and hips were scarred now, pain wretched her body and she trembled in her train compartment. She trembled because she feared Hogwarts, she trembled because she feared to remember.

God forgive her, for she has sinned.

One month, two weeks, and five days ago she was admitted in The Clinic. During her depression she had lost loads of weight, and one day someone found her in a motel room in muggle London with her wrists covered with blood and unconsciuous. She had taken pills before doing that. She had numbed herself before attempting to kill herself, because she was worthless, worthless, worthless, she was nothing more than a dead heart living in a breathing body. So someone found her, they called a ambulance, and the admitted her in The Clinic.

The Clinic was a muggle hospital. The Clinic was a place where you learnt to be happy, happy, happy. The Clinic was a place were they taught you how perfect, perfect, perfect life was and that you had to live this perfect happy happy life. Her room there was black and white. Black cieling, white floor, white walls. A black desk, a white chair, a white bed, a black leather diary.

She was not allowed to have books. She was not allowed to have sharp objects in her room. She was not allowed to have her own clothes. She was not allowed to wear or have necklaces or any other piece of jewelry such as bracelets, earrings, etc. She was not allowed to listen to music. She was not allowed to watch T.V. She was not allowed to use the shower or loo without a nurse's supervision. She was not allowed to go outside.

They fed her pills. Loads of pills. Happy pills. One blue with breakfast, two whites with lunch, one orange with dinner. Her wrists had bandages. Her hips healed fast, her wrists would be scarred forever. The word Mudblood was now illegilable with so many thin lines covering it. They stuffed her, she felt like a turkey on Thanksgiving day, but that didn't matter to them. She ate, ate, ate. She was being a good girl.

She talked with the doctors, told them what they wanted to hear, she smiled when they wanted her to smile, she cried when they wanted her to cry. She was making progress, she was being a very, very, very good girl.

No one came to visit her to The Clinic. She disappeared for one month and a half and no one noticed. It wasn't surprising.

They released her. Finally they released her. She was to have an appointment with a psycologist each week but she never went to one session. She moved flats. She lived in the city now, in a small flat with Crookshanks.

When they released her she was healthy, or so they said. She went back to a normal weight. She was happy, or she was supposed to be.

When they released her she went to the city and never left her room. Darkness sorrounded her, and crept in every other night. She would smoke sometimes. She would drink more than sometimes. She would continue to write with a knife every day, there was so much bare flesh in her body!

She had nightmares, she never slept. She smoked, and read, and cut, and drink. She bought some new clothes two days after getting her letter inviting her to come to Hogwarts to repeat her 7th year since it was ruined by the war and all. She had been elected Head Girl. She would have her own quarters and own common room that she would share with the Head Boy. His identity wasn't revealed in the letter, and she absolutely didn't care. It would be some Ravenclaw or a dumb Hufflepuff. Also, in a more personal letter the new Headmistress McGonagall told her that all of her books and her Gryffindor uniform were purchased by her, as a gift of her 18th birthday. She smiled a little when she read this, a sad little smile. The woman always had cared about her, and when she knew that her parents couldn't remember she took the role of a mother to her. She would never be able to tell her how grateful she was for that, she felt like the elder witch was her only family left now.

So, two days after getting the letter from Hogwarts she went shopping. First time she came out of her house since the clinic. The sun was too bright and felt warm against her skin, and the cool breeze of the end of summer was beyond refreshing.

She bought some new jeans, five plain black t-shirts, and five plain white, a little black dress (in a moment of sudden confidence) and some lacy undergarments. Some years before she had discovered how sexy the touch of lace made her feel, and now it had become somewhat of a habit to purchase sexy bras and knickers. They made her feel better about herself.

On her way home some drunk men insulted her calling her a freak and some other things along the line. That night for each harassing coment she cut one line. Five deep cuts covered her left wrist now, and two in each leg. They weren't fully healed yet.

Now she was watching little kids saying their good byes to their parents and smoking a cigarette hoping no one would catch her. She was dressed in an oversized sweater and black tight jeans. Her chestnut curls were tamed and fell down below her shoulders, and she wore heavy black eye-liner and a faint touch of vanilla perfurme.

In her lap was placed her old edition of Wuthering Heights, the masterpiece of Emily Brontë, and in her back she had almost 30 packets of Marlboro and a fair amount of books to keep her company through the year.

The train started to move, and she felt the old tug of anticipation on her chest despite not being a child anymore. She throw the now unlit cigarette out the window and stared simply at the british lanscape. She checked her watch. In ten minutes she was supposed to meet the Head Boy to talk about the patrols and their duties and how they would organize them. Then, half an hour later they would have to meet with the prefects so that they could discuss their patrols also. She was to meet the Head Boy in the last compartment, where she was now sitting. She anxiously waited for some Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw boy to stumble to her compartment and mutter some kind of apology, but none of that happened. A quarter of an hour had passed now, and she shifted in her seat uncomfortably, and waited for someone to arrive.

But no one opened the door. So after five minutes of staring dumbly at the door with a blank expression she turned to read her book. Suddenly someone came in through the door an she sighed, frustrated. She turned around ready to scold whoever that was Head Boy when he saw his smirk. That smirk she knew oh-so-well. Malfoy. Draco-sodding-Malfoy was her partner. She couldn't help but stand there wide-eyed, staring at him with her mouth hanging open.

"Nice to see you too Granger. Close your mouth or you'll catch flies."

Author's note: Well, well, well. How is it so far? I know, I know, it is a short chapter. Anyway, review, comment, follow or do none of the above if you didn't like it! Love you all sweeties 3