remember me [dramione] ✔️

Chapter 40 || Year 6

Draco's POV-

I guess I never really understood how much words could hurt people. I knew my plan had worked, and that she had finally fallen for the Weasel instead of me, the coward Death Eater, even though that huge consequence came with the plan, but something had changed about her. Not only mentally, but standing only a few metres in front of her, I could see it physically.

Her eyes were no longer the chocolate brown with the amber specks. Instead they were a never-ending, murky bronze colour. Under her eyes were lined with deep, purple and black bags; her skin thin and pale. Her body shape was also different - the normally baggy robes she wore were almost like blankets on her, but now, seeing her in only a tank top and shorts, I could see why.

Her collar bone and hip bone seemed to stand out the most, the bone clearly visible from under her skin, whist the rest of her body was just incredibly thin.

"Enjoying what you see, Malfoy?" Hermione asked in a whisper, her voice not sounding right.

I returned my gaze to her unwelcoming eyes, wanting to look away, mainly because I couldn't stand seeing her like this, but also because I could finally see that long scar that lined her leg from the night everything went down.

I try so hard not to think about it. The way she just jumped like it was the easiest thing in the world, but some nights the memory appears in my nightmares; her crumpled body always causing me to jerk awake.

She had recovered fully, but I guess not all scars go away, or maybe she just wanted to keep it there as a reminder - a reminder of what I caused.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, trying to raise her voice but failing.

"I want to apologise," I whispered, taking a step forward, but watching as she took four large steps back.

"For what? For tormenting me? For hitting me? For appearing in and ruining my life?" Hermione questioned, her eyes becoming clouded with tears.

"Everything," I sighed, "I want to apologise for everything, Hermione-"

"Don't say my name," She mumbled, cutting me off, closing her eyes, reopening them when she felt my hands on either side of her arms that was basically just bone.

"Why not? I want to address you, so I will do so by saying your name," I told her, shaking her very gently, scared that she would break in my fingers.

Something fell out of her pocket when I shook her, a white bottle rolling across the ground at our feet. I picked up the bottle, ignoring her weak attempts to stop me. I read the label and widened my eyes, even though I knew I shouldn't be surprised.

"Anti-depressants?" I questioned, shaking the bottle to see how many were in it.

Hermione just looked at me, her bushy hair acting like a curtain to cover her face.

"I'm sure it's all a little far-fetched, don't you think? I mean, Madam Pomfrey must just be giving you these as a precaution, because you don't have depression ... right?" I asked, mainly to myself than to her, but all the signs - the rapid weight-loss, never turning up to meals, never enthusiastic in class, the quietness, her whole complexion and personality.

But she didn't answer my question, instead just squirming ever so slightly, trying to look anywhere but me. I looked back at the bottle, widening my eyes as I read the date they were given to her which was only yesterday, and quickly unscrewed the cap, looking inside to find only seven tablets left in a bottle of thirty.

"You've been overdosing, haven't you," I questioned, and when she didn't answer, I raised my voice a little, "Haven't you!"

She gave a weak nod of the head, but then tried to hide her wrists from me, an action she tried to hide but I saw it.