Author's Note: Hello! I'm currently working on a Harry Potter story, but this little piece popped into my head and wouldn't get out until I wrote it! It hasn't been beta read, so be aware of any spelling or grammar mistakes. I don't know whether or not I will continue this. What do you think? Anyways, I hope you like it!

"You are the only exception."

Hermione Granger, Head Girl, cleverest witch of her generation, was walking with her head bowed.

Her hair was a mess and her skin was flushed.

She was lucky that it was so late at night, so no one could see the tear in her school skirt or that the buttons on her jumper weren't matched up correctly, so that one side of it seemed longer than the other.

She was lucky that everyone was in bed by now, or the cut on her lip would surely draw unwanted attention to her. The fact that one of her shoes was missing would make people stare and wonder. The fact that there were finger shaped bruises forming on her legs was scandalous. So yes. Hermione was lucky that it was so late.

Or perhaps it was her curse that it was so late into the night.

No. that would mean that her being a Head Prefect was a curse.

And it wasn't.

She had to yell at the portrait of the Fat Lady before she woke up. And even the Fat Lady, a mere portrait, gave a startled yelp that echoed eerily down the hall.

Hermione tried several different passwords before accepting her fate. She would not have the comfort of her House common room.

She turned around and limped the tiring path to her own Head dormitory.

The one she shared with him.

Would he be there by now? Probably. Unless he went to the Slytherin dormitory for the night.

Please, she prayed. Let him have stayed there for the night.

When she climbed through the portrait, there was no evidence that he was there. A warm yellow fire crackled gently under the smoldering logs.

The couch had been straightened and the small, square pillows fluffed and placed back where they belonged.

She started to climb up the stairs to her room, but the pain between her legs was too unbearable.

So she hobbled on over to the couch, Summoned her trusty blanket, and put six protective charms and enchantments around herself.

When she closed her eyes to sleep, his cold, gray eyes haunted her dreams.

After a night she spent tossing and turning and not sleeping, Hermione got up and Summoned her school bag, and proceeded to write a quick note to Ron and Harry.

Dear Ron and Harry,

And then she stopped.

She wanted to write, Last night I was attacked by Draco Malfoy.

She wanted to write, Please come back for me. I need you.

She wanted to write, I don't feel safe without the two of you.

She wanted to write, Take me far, far away from here. Please.

But she didn't.

Instead, her note was short and to the point.

Dear Ron and Harry,

Hope everything is OK. The professors here are really worried about you two; it's hard to pretend that I don't know anything. Ron, I visited Fred and George at Hogsmeade last weekend. Business is booming, as usual. I'm sending along a couple of their products. Use them well.

Love,

Hermione

Although she had never done it before and she was extremely skeptical for some reason, Hermione used the bathroom downstairs.

It wasn't bad. It was quite small compared to the one upstairs, but at least it was there.

Hermione ran a hot bath.

When she got into the tub, the water was tinged red.

A week passed, and she still had not said a word. It's not that she had nothing to say; on the contrary, she had so much to say that her silence was killing her, but every time she opened her mouth, she would feel hot breath against her neck, a deep, husky voice telling her to shut the fuck up. Or when she would extend her arm to tap someone on the shoulder, she would feel phantom fingers enclosing around her wrist, silently warning her against it.

Draco Malfoy.

He was everywhere now. Around the corner, always in a position where she always almost bumped into him.

He was always sitting at the Slytherin table so that he was facing her.

He was always there to taunt her.

They had Potions, Charms, Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts together. But he somehow managed so show up in Muggle Studies, Care of Magical Creatures and Arithmancy every single day.

And he always managed to get a seat right next to her. He would arrange to come to class early and direct everyone to a particular seat until there were only two in the room. Or he would come late and stare threateningly at someone until they moved. Or his faithful Slytherin cronies would have room in the corner reserved just for them.

It made her see red.

She sighed deeply, staring at the crimson canopy above her head.

She would have to get up in a few minutes, she mused.

She stretched slightly and got up.

The pain between her legs had disappeared completely. The bruises were fading and she had magically fixed the ripped muscle in her leg.

But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't remove the scars from her mind.

She had lost too much weight. She noticed that her clothes hung a little loose on her. But she didn't mind. After dressing, Hermione took a deep breath and removed the protective enchantments around her door.

She secured her bag tightly across her body.

Flung the door open with magic, and ran as fast as she could through the door, down the stairs and was almost at the portrait hole when from behind the statue of a knight hurtled a dark figure with white blond hair.

Draco Malfoy rugby tackled her to the ground, eliciting a scream that he swallowed with his lips.

"Hello Mudblood," he drawled, finding both her wrists and slamming them onto the cold stone on either side of her head. "I haven't seen you in the tower for a while…I was starting to think you were avoiding me. And did you know that there are protective enchantments on your door? I've been wanting a word with you for the past two weeks, but you've been almost impossible to keep track of."

He smiled down at her, his eyes cold and hungry and cruel.

"So what is it, Mudblood? have you been avoiding me? You know how I hate to be ignored, don't you?"

Hermione's ears were ringing; she had hit her head quite hard when he took her down. Her wrists were stinging underneath his hands.

"Piss off, Malfoy, you ferret-faced son of a bi-" she panted, but was abruptly cut off when Draco quite bodily pulled her towards him and slammed her back on the stone again.

Hermione's breath was completely knocked out of her. As she struggled for breath, Draco said, "Now, now, Mudblood. Just answer the question presented to you. No one wants to hear your voice any more than necessary. We get enough of you in the classroom, raising your hand every ten seconds."

But the insult seemed to pass right over her. Hermione wasn't even looking at him. She was concentrating on something near the fireplace. She wasn't blinking and she was no longer panting. In fact, her lips looked sealed shut and a crease had appeared in her forehead.

But Draco understood a moment too late.

She had used a wandless, silent Summoning spell, and an equally silent Disarming spell. Draco's wand soared out of his loose grip and clattered to a stop somewhere near the stairs.

He looked down to see huge brown eyes widened in fear, all the darker against her pale skin.

"I'm going to count to three, Malfoy, and if you haven't gotten yourself off of and away from me, I will hex your fucking balls off."

Then, quite unexpectedly, Draco felt a massive force lift him off of Hermione and slam him into the opposite force. He crumpled to a heap and tried to regain his breath.

Hermione was almost to the portrait hole when she heard his voice.

"I thought I had until three, you silly Mudblood bitch." His tone, to her fury, was teasing.

"I count really fast," she half shouted, and was out of the portrait faster than Draco could smirk.

Then, just to bother him, she heavily warded the entrance so that there was no chance that Draco would be able to come out in time for lessons.

Something close to a smile lifted her features for just a moment, and then it was gone.