Disclaimer: - I do not own any of these characters just the new spin, they are J K Rowling's' and hers alone.

A/N: Back again. I apologize so, so much about the massive delay. I know I say this like every time I post although the delay this time was a lot longer than usual. I've had my parents on my back bout uni's, exams looming, French oral not being ready at all (imagine being recorded for 12 minutes talking about a subject that you have no idea about in French!) and coursework deadlines being fucked up therefore meaning I have to work into the wee small hours of the morning. And those are the least of my problems but I won't bore you anymore with those. To add insult to injury I couldn't even purge my troubles by inflicting them on you poor people. I completely lost my muse. Id just write, like a page, read it back to myself and think what! What's going on here! It's like losing the ability to speak or cry. I may be over reacting but it was heartbreaking. I'm sure many of you out there know what I mean. If there are any of you left any way, it has been a while, I wouldn't blame you. Sorry to be moaning at you all, I do it a lot. So yeah don't expect this chapter to be anything special, but please review! It will make me happy ( happy smiley face! If no one reviews I shall write no more and you won't hear anymore from me. Oh god no ones going to review now! Review, review, review!

Chapter 7:- The burn of his touch

The sun crept over the room in a golden curtain, drenching the room in sunlight. The forest was ringing with ironic birdsong. That forest was a place filled with many evils yet such simple beauty could still resonate from it. It's always surprising how such breathtaking beauty can emerge from even the darkest of places.

The sunlight hit the eyelids of the sleeping girl, whose for once untroubled face sighed with dreamless sleep. She struggled to keep the uncomplicated clarity but again reality won. She uncurled herself under the red and gold covers which blazed in the morning sun. Her chestnut hair fanned across the pillow shining its flaming highlights.

She kicked the covers off, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she did so, and walked towards the window, glaring at the curtains that she had forgotten to close the night before, and threw open the window. A smile crept into the corners of her lips; these were the moments that tipped the balance into making life worth living. Those precious moments before the troubles of the every day come out to play. She breathed in the fresh air and relished the lightness within her; she wouldn't say she was particularly a morning person though she wouldn't say she was a night person either. She was a person who longed for happy simplicity. Unfortunately she knew that she could never have that. Life was complicated and life was a fight, she just had to hold onto the precious moments that held back her hand from striking.

As she stepped back a small shard of glass pierced her foot causing her automatically sit down on the floor, onto more glass. "Ow, ow, ow" she squeaked as she delicately picked the shard out of her foot. When it was out she held it in the palm of her hand and looked at it. She could have sworn it had felt bigger. Glass? Why is there glass on my floor? For the first time that morning, Hermione surveyed her room. It looked as if it had been frantically torn apart. The rug was folded over and over, the chair was knocked down and the contents of the table were strewn across the floor. Glass... Glass... Oh god... the bottle... the alcohol... the floor... the blood... the bed... and... oh god! OH GOD NO! Hermione ran to the bathroom and was violently sick. Every muscle in her body contorted with such force it felt like something within her was trying to turn her inside out. Sweat trickled down her temples and mingled with the bitter, salty tears. Him. He had happened last night. The full force of last night's alcohol usage was finally catching up with her and the full hopeless horror was now thrust upon her.

What the hell had she done? She had given herself to Him. What the hell was he going to do? What possible use could he find in her, she had nothing to give him? Horrible visions passed through her mind, what if he was going to use her to practice hexes, or perhaps she was going to have to become his personal house elf, following him around every where. Perhaps he was going to inflict every aspect of his hatred for non magical folk on her.

As she clung wretchedly to the toilet seat, desperately trying to keep her hair out of the way, her fingers fell upon a deep, ugly gash which made another cold realisation fall on her. She stood up unsteadily and cautiously made her way to the small mirror on the wall. In the mirror, was reflected her face, pale, lost and young looking. Her hair was muddled up into an unsightly, confused mess, but that she didn't care about, for flashed across her face was blood, now crusted brown. The stains all joined together to form what was unmistakably, a handprint. "His hands" She whispered, the sound echoing eerily off the white tiles of the bathroom walls, her eyes now wide with shock "they are still on me. He is still so close" She closed her eyes tight, but he was still less than 10 metres away, asleep in the next room, so close. Or was he asleep? He said he would not rest until every drop of blood was drained from every muggle-born, half blood and muggle. Maybe he's outside the door waiting for me to come out. Just waiting to bring himself that one step closer to sleep.

Tears squeezed through her closed eyelids. Maybe it would be better if he did. She looked down to her arm and saw the cut. He had dared to touch her there, him, His Pureblood Mightiness dared to touch her, the lowest foulest creature ever to him. He had got so close to her, she remembered his breath had been on her face and she had seen the steely flecks flash in his pitiless eyes. "Well, he has all his power now" she whispered to herself falling dejectedly back onto the floor, bringing the back of her hand up to wipe her mouth, as she did this she noticed that she was still in her blood soaked school uniform which was now stained brown. "Oh fucking hell!" Hermione screamed and frantically stripped them off and through them across the room.

The blood was not beautiful or comforting as she had found it so many times before when she had so willingly drawn it from herself. She squeezed one of the wounds, waiting for the calming rush but brought back was just the cold memory of him that pressed at the base of her chest almost like guilt. She still felt the touch of his skin on hers from the night before. It had felt like ice yet still had burned afterwards in a way that even pain shouldn't. He had only touched that one cut and then her face, only for a second, he hadn't caused all the blood, he hadn't forced the alcohol down her throat, yet she still felt so violated by him.

People always think that the offence has to massive against another person for it to hurt them, such as the incident on the station, he hadn't hit her, he didn't take the time out of his busy schedule to do it every time he saw her, but it had hit her hard. People don't seem to get that the action doesn't have to be overstated or ostentatious to make an impact. A single phrase, hell a single word can stay with someone for their entire lives. Hermione knew this too well. She had a lot of phrases that hung around in her mind. She had a lot of unhappy memories that would plague her. She probably had a few that she had subconsciously repressed that would swoop down on her when the most trivial of events triggered them.

Hermione couldn't breath. He was suddenly all over her. She could feel his eyes on her again. She could feel his breath on her face. His hold on her left her smothered and Hermione desperately grasped at her skin, so hard that she left even more red marks. She caught another of the wounds and it started to weep again "fuck it" she cursed and retrieved her wand out of her shirt pocket. Muttering a simple healing charm she flicked the wand back to the pile of clothes. The wounds were gone, the blood was gone, but he wasn't. He was all over her skin. She had to get him off her! She ran to the shower and threw it on not even waiting for the water to warm up, leaving it icy cold.

She felt herself spiralling down. The freezing water was burning her skin, just like his touch. She scraped at her skin, trying to rid herself of everything, but all she did was feel like she was spreading the sensation, the horror, and the guilt. The realisation came to her again. She had given him her soul. She had given him his power. She was now his. There was no escape, no hope.

She weakly leaned back against the white, tiled shower wall and held her head in her hands, tears silently streaming down her face. "This wasn't supposed to happen" she repeated over and over again. She crept rubbing her arms harder and harder, desperately trying to get clean. She felt utterly hopeless.

When she started to shiver violently she finally stood up and wrapped herself in a dressing gown. She looked around the bathroom. There was a bath with even more taps than the prefects' bath and that was probably a third bigger. The floor was mostly smooth marble, covered in parts by soft red bath mats. There was only one picture on the wall, one of a beautiful, white cat with blue eyes that was seated on a throne looking chair. Oh crookshanks, if only I still had you. You at least were always there for me. Crookshanks now though was too old to bring to school. When things had been bad he always had known, and come to comfort her. She could just curl up with him in her arms and feel his warmth against her, and know that she wasn't alone. Maybe if she still had him she wouldn't have drunk so much. Maybe if she had him she would have remembered to lock that fucking door. But she didn't and she hadn't. There was nothing that she could do about it now. She didn't have crookshanks, she didn't have Harry, she didn't have Ron and she had got herself into this big mess. It was hopeless.

Even Harry and Ron conjured painful memories now. No! She squeezed her eyes shut. She did not think of that anymore. There was no point. It's all over now it doesn't matter.

She quickly unlocked the door and made her way into the common room, carrying her clothes and wand under her arm. "Sleep well mudblood?" Not now Malfoy she thought. She turned round to see him standing a few feet away in a pair of black pyjama bottoms and a green t-shirt with his trade mark smirk plastered across his pale face. "You were in there a while, what's wrong? You look like shit! Hard night last night" he sniggered. She screwed her face up into a frown and glared silently at the floor. She never knew what to say around him under normal circumstances so she had even less of an idea now. "So any way, yeah, good morning sunshine" he called over his shoulder on his way into the bathroom, his voice dripping with sarcasm. As he slammed the door closed the tears that she had managed to suppressed ran down her face and she ran to her room and threw herself on the bed. This was going to be a bad day. She now had to go in front of the school and sit on the Gryffindor table. Only this time everyone would see her. Harry and Ron would see her. Now there was nowhere to hide.

A/N:- Bit longer than usual but it has been awhile. Hope you liked it. Please review! Constructive criticism welcome and any suggestions for plot or what you want to see more of would be great!