Chapter One

3:00.

The majority of the Gryffindors were all sitting in Professor Severus Snape's muggy classroom in the dungeons, waiting for their teacher to finish grading their quizzes and for the time to pass. Harry, Ron and Hermione were passing notes, as usual, completely undetected by their professor. They had gotten good at this art with secrecy; they had known this loathsome teacher since their first year.

"You will kindly put your cauldrons away while I pass out these…" he passed, his dark eyes meeting with each student's and lingering just a second more on Harry's. "Rather disappointing tests…"

"'Disappointing'?" Ron mouthed with a look of fear on his freckled face.

Harry nodded grimly. Hermione was nonplussed, cracking her fingers and playing with a loose lock of her bushy brown hair.

"Here, Mr. Potter," Snape sneered, a rather satisfied look on his face. Harry moaned when he saw the red marks over almost every question.

"Wealsey…Granger…" he dropped them on their table and then walked to the front of his desk, his long, billowing back cape swishing furiously.

"What did you get, Ron?"

"What do you think? I failed!" He moaned and his head sank into his book.

"What did you get Hermione?" Ron interrupted before she could even open her mouth.

"Of course she got an 'A', you prat, she's perfect Book-worm Granger, you know." He replied derisively.

Hermione blushed and looked down at her paper. Ron was right, of course, she had got an 'A', and she was definitely a book-worm. But it still hurt they way he'd said it. Her cheeks flushed red and she kept her mouth tightly shut so she wouldn't start sobbing.

But that's all you've ever wanted, Hermione, to be perfect. Her thoughts spoke in their haunting tones as if another person inside of her. Perfect Book-worm Granger, that's all you've ever wanted.

No, Ron is all I've ever wanted. He's just so…perfect. She almost sighed out loud.

Ha! Ron? You'll never be good enough for him. Besides, falling in love will only distract you from your studies.

"Here, Harry, I'll help you get the right answers. Snape will give you the extra points if you do."

"Okay," he said, sighing. "Thanks Hermione."

"That's what I'm here for." She said, forcing the glumness out of her voice.

That's what I'm her for… she thought bitterly. I'm not a friend; I'm just a walking talking textbook. I'm perfect…

Hermione stretched out on her bed, pulling out her journal so she could write in it before going to sleep. It hadn't been such a bad day, although she had gotten a nine out of ten on an assignment for transfiguration; she'd have to do some extra credit work to bring her average up. After all, her schoolwork had to be flawless. It was her parent's expectations. It was her teachers' expectations.

It's my expectations.

She felt a small tear fall down her cheek. She needed to be perfect. She had to prove to everyone that muggle-borns could do everything a pure-blood could; she had to prove that studying wasn't worthless, she had to prove…

I have to prove to Ron that I'm perfect. I'm just the girl he wants; I'm just the girl he needs…

Her own thoughts from earlier came flooding back into her head. You'll never be perfect enough for Ron.

It was true. Hermione had fallen badly for the cute little red-head almost from the moment he'd opened his mouth in front of her. But after all the years of infatuation, she had finally realized that she wasn't the right girl for him. She simply wasn't good enough.

I'll make myself perfect. I'll do whatever it takes. An angry tear fell. Why couldn't she be perfect? Why wasn't Ron in love with her, too?

I have to be better disciplined. I have to punish myself for every failure. But how?

Groaning in frustration, she threw herself onto her bed.

"Ouch!" she exclaimed sharply, recoiling instantly. A red drop of blood started rolling down her finger. Upon close inspection, she realized that she cut her finger on the razor she'd wrapped carefully in her towel for the shower. "A razor?" she mused out loud.

Suddenly, the razor gleaming in the light of her dorm looked very appealing. A smile crept onto her lips. The pain of the razor would remind her of the love she had for Ron and the vow to be his perfect girl. She swallowed and slowly pulled up the sleeve of her robe. Her soft white skin looked so easy to cut into. She rested the razor on her forearm, her heart pounding and her mouth dry.

Just think of Ron.

Closing her eyes, she dug the blade into her arm. She winced at the small tingle of pain. A weird feeling was filling her as she watched her blood spill down her arm.

I feel…whole. I feel…happy.

Confused at this strange new sensation, she cut deeper, rewarded with more blood. Her eyes gleamed as she watched it fall. Tears sprang from her eyes.

"What am I doing?" she cried, dropping the razor as if it were cursed and clutching her arm. "What am I doing?"

She buried her face into her covers, fresh tears wetting her cheeks. She took a deep breath and raised her head up.

Just think of Ron.

She wiped the tears away with her bleeding hand, leaving a smear of blood on her face. But she was determined now. Slowly, she stood on her feet and walked to the bathroom mutely, the razor in her hands.

Just think of Ron.