Author's Note: The story will deal with anorexia, self-harm and abuse but is mainly about the feeling of wanting to be with someone and not being sure if you want to save them, if that makes sense. Review please, they make me squee :) (and I really haven't thought about alot of it- I have whole conversations and chains of events planned but no solid storyline) Thanks
Update: I edited some of the stuff in this chapter, I've been re-reading it and I'm not all that happy with it. Nothing story-changing, though.
A not-so-vague Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling, so don't own Harry Potter. This is not done for any profit but the emotional.
Draco watched Hermione during the start of year Feast in the great hall. As Head Boy and Girl they were sat at the ends of their house tables, nearest the staff table. But, although the school had been eating for nearly half an hour, Hermione hadn't let a bite of food pass her lips. She was doing a lot of cutting up her food, gesturing with her fork and taking sips from her goblet of water but she wasn't eating. Her robes seemed to engulf her small frame and if she had been anyone else, she would have immediately been classified as ill and given a talking to, or sent to the hospital wing. But because she was Hermione Granger people seemed to not be able to see it. They couldn't see beyond her long dark blonde hair that she wore swept out of her face and haphazardly brushed so that the tangles in the waves made her look cool, not that she didn't own a brush, and her amazing mind that seemed to excel at all of her subjects and hold ridiculously obscure knowledge that she could recite without sounding pompous. And then there was that face, her brown eyes that seemed to always be moving, showing her thought processes and emotions, and her mouth that always seemed to be turned in an enigmatic smile that told everyone that looked at her that they could never understand her, that she was different to them. She lined her eyes with a thick smudge of black liner and mascara in the manner of a French actress, looking as though she had been up for nights on end thinking about philosophy and poetry and every kind of idea that, if anyone else discussed it would be pretentious but when she did it was engaging and mysterious. She was unlike any other girl at Hogwarts and the girls all knew it. They teased their hair to try and make it resemble hers but they just looked dishevelled, black eyeliner on them looked childish. Draco watched as she continued to not eat, ignoring the other Slytherins. If he was honest with himself, they were ignoring him right back, none of them dared to say it to his face but he knew that he made a lot of enemies the previous year. She looked over at him and he met her gaze and smiled, then turned back to his food, as if he hadn't been watching for her. Merlin, had he been rhapsodising about her for the whole meal? He sounded like a lovesick first- year. He began to cut up his piece of chicken but grimaced at the thought of actually eating it. She seemed to have that effect on him; he was never hungry around her- well, not in that way. It was as if not eating made him closer to her, somehow. He shook his head at that thought. He spent the rest of the meal stealing glances at her, watching her not eat, until they were sent to their new rooms.
Hermione arrived at the Head's rooms before Draco and sat down on the cold stone floor of the corridor, resting her head against the wall behind her. She ignored the looks she was getting from passing students and picked the chipped silver nail polish of her fingernails until he arrived, accompanied by Professor Snape. She stood up when they rounded the corner and brushed off her school robes, though they weren't dirty.
"Miss Granger, it might be an idea, in your role as Head Girl for you to set some kind of an example to the younger years, not sit on the floors of no doubt filthy corridors biting your fingernails." He said, by way of greeting. She smiled sarcastically at that, resisting the urge to stick her tongue out at him.
"Good Evening, Professor." She said, after swallowing down a rather sarcastic answer she had been mentally conjuring.
"Professor Snape had to come and set up the password for us." Draco said, smiling at her. She returned it. Unlike Harry and Ron, she actually liked Draco. They hated him, though giving him a grudging trust for what he had done the summer before last. Ron's exact response to the news that Draco had been made head boy were the immortal words "Slytherin git bribed his way to stealing it off Harry." She smiled at this memory, remembering the first weeks of the summer, when she had stayed with the Weasleys. She had left early, though, pretending that her parents had planned a surprise holiday, because she was exhausted at trying to keep up with disposing of all the food Molly had tried to feed her.
They spent the next few minutes arguing over a password (they finally agreed on the rather ridiculous 'meringue') and engaging in a silent competition over who could annoy Snape the most with their password suggestions. When he left and they were alone they went and sat at the window seat of their shared common room and Hermione bought out a pack of cigarettes.
"You smoke?" Draco asked, shocked, but nodded. "I thought that you'd be all 'they knock years off your life." Hermione laughed motionlessly as she lit two cigarettes at the same time, using her wand as a lighter. She passed one to him and when he put it in his mouth he shivered faintly at the idea that it had been in her mouth.
"I remember reading something, I think that it was by Bret Easton Ellis, and the main character was being told off by his personal trainer for smoking and the trainer said the same thing as you, to which the main character replied "yeah, my sixties"." She said, looking out of the window and taking a drag of her cigarette. "The way the world is now, we're going to be lucky to get to thirty." She smiled, albeit rather sadly, to show that she was okay. He watched her as he smoked, taking in the sharp angles of her elbows and knees, on display beneath her short school-skirt, white shirt and house tie. She had taken off her robes and jumper as soon as Snape had left, rolling her eyes as if the uniform was actually hurting her. In the light, he could see the faint blue line of a vein above on of her eyes and wanted to touch it, to trace it with his fingers. When their cigarettes were finished she hopped down from the window seat (causing her skirt to jolt up) and excused herself, when she went into her room she locked the door, leaving Draco with her pack of cigarettes.