Author's Note: Like I said, this fic is very dark. To be honest, I've never written anything like this before and I don't know what gave me the idea to do it now. I just hope that it's different from the other stories out there and that you guys like it anyway. It won't always be like this, trust me, but I don't want to give away too much so soon. Please stick with me. And let me know what you think : ) A BIG THANKS to all of you who reviewed .... It means a lot.
:: Anjel ::
Take Me Away -- "Burning On The Inside"
I feel like I am all alone
All by myself I need to get around it
My
words are cold, I don't want them to hurt you
If I show you, I don't think you'd
understand
'Cause no one understands.
I don't think I can handle this much longer. My hand feels sweaty and all I want to do is slip it from under hers. She doesn't quite look me full in the face; her eyes are always darting around the small room, at her hands, above my head, over my shoulder, but never at my eyes. Is she afraid at what she'll see? I probably would be too.
"How have you been feeling, Hermione, dear?" Molly asks, daring a small look at my face before averting her gaze.
I want to scream at her, "How do you think I'm feeling? I'm locked in a bloody mental ward!" but all I say is, "Better, thank you," with a fake smile pasted on my face.
She nods in approval and pats my hand absentmindedly. "That's good. That's very good."
I watch her play with the sleeves of her tattered blue robe with her free hand, then as she moves on to pat down her hair. She is preoccupied and I realize that she doesn't want to be here either. I try to squash down the swell of anger I feel at this thought. I don't blame her.
"Mrs. Weasley? Are you all right?" I ask, mentally telling her to just go away like she wants to. To leave me like everyone else did.
"Hmm? Oh yes, dear. I'm just fine," she tells me, still not quite looking at me. I want to pull her face into my hands and force her to stare me straight in the eyes. I want her to pull me into a hug, to feel her arms around me. I want her to tell me everything will be okay, that she knows I'm not crazy. I want to laugh at such thoughts. None of that is possible. Nothing is possible anymore.
"How is Mr. Weasley?" I ask just to get the conversation flowing, just to show the people watching us that I can carry a conversation, that I am a human being.
"Oh, he's doing well. He wanted me to tell you hello. He misses you too, you know."
I choke on a snort, Mrs. Weasley sending me a worried glance. "Well, tell him hello back. I miss him too." If he misses me so much than why hasn't he come to see me? Not even once.
She mistakes my sarcastic remark for preoccupation. "Something on your mind, Hermione?" she asks, her eyes fixed on my forehead.
I can feel the words hot on my tongue and before I can stop myself, I speak my mind. "Something on my mind? Oh no, how can there be? I'm crazy, remember? I'm not capable of intelligent thought."
Her face pales and for a moment I'm afraid she's going to faint. Her hand rises from mine and moves to her heart. "Hermione! Don't call yourself that!" she cries, tears laced into her voice.
"Why not? It's true, isn't it?" I'm almost shouting now. "Tell me, Mrs. Weasley, why won't you look at me?" I wasn't planning on asking her this, but I was on a roll, pushed by anger.
"What on earth are you talking about?" She is still not looking at me. "I'm looking at you right now, aren't I?"
"No, you're not! You won't look me in the eyes! Every week it's the same thing, every week you ask how I'm feeling, we make small talk, ask about the weather, and not once do you look at me, really look at me. Why is that, Mrs. Weasley? Are you afraid of what you'll see?" I was standing now, shouting at the top of my lungs. I could see guards rushing in, a nurse following with a needle in hand.
Mrs. Weasley's face has gone completely white, her eyes large. She doesn't offer an explanation, only watches in horror as the guards overtake me, holding onto my arms with a grip tight enough to bruise. It's okay though, the bruises on my arms will match the one on my heart.
The nurse comes up and I want to cry. Not another needle, not more medicine. Please ... I feel it going through my system, I'm calming down. I relax into their arms and they slowly drag me away. I turn my head to look at Mrs. Weasley.
I know that the look on her face will haunt me for the rest of my life, among other things. Her lips are moving but no words are coming out. She feels me looking at her and in that moment, she catches my eyes, really looks at me. Tears spill down her cheeks and before I'm whisked out the door, I see her lips form the words, "I'm sorry."
...:::...:::...:::...:::...:::...:::...
Lying on my bed, staring up at the ceiling, I fight the sleep that is trying to consume me. My eyes are drooping closed and I snap them open again, only to repeat the process seconds later. This happens every night; every bloody night.
I turn over on my side, placing my hand underneath my head, the other one close to my heart. I can feel it beating but its rhythm is off. A sound of desperation. The cries of the other patients have started. I hear tears and anger in their voices. Rejection and desperation. I also hear happiness in some, but I know that won't last, not when they wake up and remember where they are.
I finally let my eyes close shut, only to see his face in front of mine. His eyes are staring intently into mine and his mouth is curled into a smile. His arm lifts up, held out in front of him, beckoning me to him. "Come on," he says, but his mouth isn't moving. I'm surprised to find Hogwarts castle standing majestically behind him, welcoming and foreboding all at once. The thought that that castle no longer exists and what is it doing all in one piece runs through my mind but when he turns around the thought disappears. He walks towards the castle, looking over his shoulder at me and smiling, until he's standing on the steps. "Come on," he repeats again, his voice vibrating through my head.
I take a step forward and when I do, the castle suddenly bursts into flames. I stop dead in my tracks and try to call out to him, the flames licking the hem of his dark green robes. His arm is still outstretched, smile still in place. The fire has reduced the castle to ashes, covering him at a rapid speed. I try to scream, try to move, but I can't, I feel glued to the ground.
His face is all that is left and I feel myself falling. His green eyes are left, staring at me, beckoning me forward, until he's gone and I'm falling through empty space...
"HARRY!" His name is ripped from my throat and it's not until I'm sitting up that I realize I screamed it. I'm soaking through my clothes and my hair is plastered to my face. My heart is racing, pounding against my chest. My fists are curled around the sheets, my knuckles white.
What was that? My nightmares have never been so bizarre, so unreal. I shake my head and something small and wet falls into my lap. A tear drop. Many more are following its path, running down my cheek, falling past my chin. I raise a hand and wipe them away, bringing my fingers to my lips.
Tears. I haven't cried in a year. A year. My breath is hitching and I know I can't stop. Soon, it turns to sobs, sobs that melt in with the rest of the people in here. Am I officially one of them now? Or was I one of them from the beginning?
...:::...:::...:::...:::...:::...:::...
I let the water fall over me, watching as it hits the ground, swirls around the drain, and disappears. I wish it would do that to me. Wash me away. My eyes roam the large room, at the other girls taking showers, wondering what's going through their heads. Maybe I don't want to know, I shouldn't know. I don't even know what's going through mine.
I turn away from them and let the hot water splash over my face. I run my fingers through my short hair, the hair they cut when I was admitted. I fought them on that one. My hair had been long because I had been letting it grow since I started Hogwarts, almost up to my waist. It had finally grown out of its bushiness, falling in curly tendrils down my back. I loved my hair, almost the only part I loved. Don't mistake me; I had never put much stock in my looks. I only loved my hair so much because he loved it.
We used to sit for ours on the velvet couch in the Common Room, my head in his lap or vice versa, and he would pull out the band that would hold my hair up and just run his fingers through my hair, scraping across my scalp gently. I close my eyes and I can feel my fingers sliding through his hair, silky strands slipping through.
"Time's up!" A rough voice cuts through one of my happy memories and my eyes jolt open. The water stops running and towels are thrown at us. We're herded out the gates like cattle and back to our rooms. I keep my head down, eyes glued to the ground. Some of the women have tried to have a conversation with me but I never really contributed, so they let me be.
That's funny. The people deemed unworthy of being treated like human beings know when to leave you alone, yet those who believe they're above you don't know how to do such a thing. They poke and prod, try to get into your thoughts and analyze you. They write in their notebooks and give you permission to smile, cry, eat, and sleep. They love to feel as if they are controlling you.
I'm handed my robes as I'm ushered into my room, after being reminded that breakfast is in an hour. My stomach growls in acknowledgement but I ignore it. I'm not hungry, not for food anyway. I dress quickly, the room cold, and run the towel through my hair before it's whisked away, the nurses afraid I might hurt myself with it. Here, everything is a weapon. Too bad the professionals don't know that they are the biggest weapons. They are the only ones hurting us.
I sit on the edge of my bed and stare at the wall, the dream of last night running through my head. I don't believe in dreams, I never have, really, but this one irks me. It's almost a bad omen, but look where I am, what more can happen? I shake it off and lay down, exhaustion overpowering me. I'm tired, tired of everything. My life has turned into something I don't even recognize, something completely unbelievable. Is this my fate? My destiny? Why am I hated then?
My eyes close of their own accord but I don't fall asleep. I can't. I don't want to. I have no where to go where I can think, relax, just get away. Awake, I'm trapped. Asleep, I'm trapped. I'm stuck in a world where no one believes me, where I run in circles trying to find a corner to retreat to.
"Breakfast time!" rings through the hall and my door is opened. I'm ushered to the hall and ordered to eat something that looks anything but edible. I take my tray to the farthest corner and sit alone, head down, eyes forecast. I poke my plastic fork into the mush called macaroni and cheese and I feel my stomach churning with disgust. How long has it been since I've eaten real food? I can't even remember.
Something pokes me in the back and I turn around to find a female guard poking her wand into my back. "Eat," she commands, speaking as if I didn't know English.
"I'm not hungry," I dare to mumble, knowing here you are forced to eat or go without food for days.
Her face transforms into a scowl and I try to stifle a laugh when I realize she looks very much like a man. No wonder she's in here. "You will eat," she says again, her wand poking into my back with more force.
"I'm not hungry!" I cry, my anger surprising even myself. I have stood up now, facing her. I am at least a head taller than her but she stands up straighter, wand held at my heart.
"It is not wise to defy me, you know," she sneers, pressing her wand into my chest. I stare at the stick of wood, a sudden longing for my own wand engulfing me. They split it in two when I was admitted here; I haven't seen it ever since.
I don't answer, only keep my ground. I know what this will cost me but somehow I don't care. I just don't care. What's the point?
She growls at my defiance and before I can move yells out, "Stupefy!" I'm suddenly frozen, only my eyes can move. She gives me a nasty grin and moves around me to pick up the tray of discarded road kill. "You won't eat willingly then I will force you." She picks up the fork and stabs a couple of macaroni; the sound of it splitting from the mush sends bile to my throat. She then brings the fork to my lips and forces it through, cheese slipping down my chin. "Swallow!" she yells, everyone now staring at us. The guards roaming the rest of the room have stopped and are now laughing at my expense. The patients are just staring at me, their eyes full of sympathy.
I don't swallow until she jams more macaroni on the fork and pushes it into my mouth. I have to swallow or choke, which I do anyway. She laughs, throwing the fork down and bringing her wand to my face. I stare at her face, the eyes that are a cold blue and wonder what she must have gone through to be so cold-hearted. Instead of hexing me, she releases the spell and I drop to the ground.
"That should teach you," she barks, kicking me in the stomach as she passes by, her black boots pounding on the ground. I don't show any pain. The best way to get them, I've found, is to act like they haven't hurt you, haven't humiliated you and degraded you. I slowly get up, dust off my robes and pick up the tray. I keep my eyes averted as I throw the tray in the trash and walk out of the cafeteria, the only reason the nurse at the door letting me pass because I have a session with Dr. Fellings.
Joy.
...:::...:::...:::...:::...:::...:::...
"We can do this the easy way or the hard way."
I stare at the small man sitting in front of me, being dwarfed by his own desk and want to laugh. The hard way? Give me your best shot!
"Whatever."
Dr. Kyan Fellings leans forward and sighs, his glasses slipping down his nose. "You want to tell me what happened the other day? Why you tried to attack your visitor?" he asks instead, not bothering to tell me what would be the hard way. Either way, it's torture.
"Attack? Who attacked?" I ask, leaning back in my chair and stare at him with a blank expression. In my opinion, this man who is called a doctor doesn't deserve the title. Doctors help people, try to find a solution, then help them cure whatever they have. This man, this pathetic excuse for a doctor, is only trying to get into my head to get paid. I'm not human to him; I'm just a way to get money.
"Miss Granger, you attacked Molly Weasley, isn't that right?"
I shrug. "Does it matter if it's right or not? You won't believe me anyway."
"That is not true," he says, almost defiantly.
I shrug again. "Whatever."
He lets out another frustrated sigh, his chair creaking as he sits back. "Do you know why you're in here, Hermione?" he finally asks me, giving me a look that clearly states "Because you're insufficient at behaving like a normal person."
"Why don't you tell me, Dr. Fellings? Because I, for one, don't have the slightest idea."
"I think you do."
I shake my head and cross my arms over my chest,"I do not. But, since you know everything, I'm sure you have the answer."
From the corner of my eye I see him trying to control his anger. If these sessions weren't so useless I would find them fun. Ron would be proud of the way I treat this wannabe doctor. Ron. This thought catches me off guard and I have to slow my breathing. His name, even inside my own head, causes pain so sharp running through my blood. His blue eyes and red hair are floating in my mind and I know if he were still alive, he would have done everything in his power to make sure I stayed out of this place.
"Hermione Granger crazy? Are bleeding serious? I mean, sure she becomes a bit mental when it comes to homework, but Hogwarts' most clever witch is NOT insane! I really think you are for assuming such a thing ..."
"Hermione. Hermione!"
I realize tears are gathered in my eyes and I berate myself for showing such emotion. Dr. Fellings has noticed and I can tell his interest is peaked. "Where were you just then?" he asks me, not in a concerned curious way, but in a way he thinks he could get through to me and then finally rid of me all together.
"No where," I respond, angry with myself.
"Yes you were. What were you thinking about?" He's leaning forward again, his beady brown eyes staring at me. I have the sudden urge to punch him.
"Is it really your business?" I snap, glaring at him for all I am worth.
A smirk settles on his mouth. "As a matter of fact, Hermione, it is. How do you expect to get better if you won't cooperate with us?"
I snort unattractively. "Get better? Locking me up like some animal, poking me with needles, trying to analyze every bloody thing I do, is going to make me better? Let me help you, Dr. Fellings, by giving you a massive brain check. THAT IS NOT HELPING ME!"
And here come the guards rushing in, nurses with needles in hand. My anger subsides and I'm filled with a calm emptiness. Out I go again, Fellings shaking his head as if he really is disappointed by my outbreak. My eyes catch the picture sitting on his desk, him and a woman smiling at me from their perch on a white porch. Married? Who would marry someone like him? I find it funny that I'm thinking this while being dragged back to my room but come on. The poor woman must have been desperate.
Or crazy.
...:::...:::...:::...:::...:::...:::...
"How about you guys lay off the meds for awhile, okay?" I shout out as they push me inside my room. It's enough to get a person addicted. They ignore me and slam the door shut, the noise crashing through my head and making me wince.
I plop down on my bed and press my palms to my eyes, feeling a headache coming on. Along with that headache is a drowsiness that is an effect of the medicine they have given me. Before I can stop myself, I'm fast asleep, out of it, in a world where the past sinks in and consumes me. Real life nightmares remind me of what I've gone through, what I had, and what I lost.
Before the nightmares begin, however, I am being roughly shaken awake. I slowly open my eyes, coming face to face with a name tag sporting Katherine on it. "What?" I mumble, sitting up to look at the impatient nurse.
"You have a visitor," she says, not waiting for a reply before making her way to the door.
Another visitor? Two visitors in the span of three days is extremely rare, especially for me. As I walk out of the room, I conclude that the visitor must be Mrs. Weasley. Walking down the deserted corridor, Katherine the nurse in front of me and a guard behind me, my stomach gives a loud growl. I have missed lunch, not allowed to have any because of my behavior at breakfast. Why do I feel like a naughty little child?
"Now you behave yourself, understand? Any more outbursts and we will put in solitary." The word alone sends shivers down my back. I have never been there but I've heard others talking about it. It's in another part of the ward; they lock you in a cell and keep you in darkness day in and day out. The only company you have is your beating heart and that isn't much of a comfort.
They let me in the visitor's room and there is Molly Weasley, standing in the middle of the room with her hands locked in front of her. A wave of guilt hits me at the nervous look on her face. I go over to her and, noticing the guards tense up, I wrap my arms around her in a tight hug. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Weasley," I whisper in her ear, as her arms squeeze me tightly. The warm human contact shocks my system and I have to force the tears to retreat. I haven't been hugged like this is so long.
"No, Hermione, don't apologize. You were right." She pulls away and looks me full in the face. Her hands come up to frame my face. "You were right in everything. I was afraid of what I might see if I looked into your eyes but that did not give me the right to avoid your gaze. I'm sorry, so sorry. For all of this." Tears are crowding her eyes and I'm struggling to control my own composure.
"But," she continues, suddenly smiling, "everything is going to be okay. I brought someone with me and he's going to get you out."
"He?" I ask, surprised. "Who?" Even as I ask her eyes are staring at someone behind me. I turn around slowly and the person standing there sends me into a whirl of emotions and feelings. He's looking at me, in my eyes, and I don't see the usual uneasiness on his face like on the others. All I see is a profound apology. The last thing I see as blackness explodes inside of me is his eyes.
Harry.
...:::...:::...:::...:::...:::...:::...
A.N.2: Well, hoped you enjoyed that. Harry is in the picture now and Hermione has a lot more to go through. I hope you stick with me. I wanted to let you guys know that I am leaving for a cruise on Fri. and won't be back until the 12th of October so I won't be updating the next chapter obviously. I will try to get one out before I leave but that is a very slim chance. Please review and thanks to those who did!
-- Anjel
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