Pushed Too Far

The bruise was ugly, a blue black purple smudge of outrage on the milky white skin of the boy's face. A cruel injustice. One that she would repay when she was finished feeling infuriated. That time would be a while in arriving. How many times had she sat here watching her closest friends draw painful breaths? How many nights had she whiled away just sitting and staring - thinking of all the "I should have said this" or "I should have said that". Too many times. Too many.

"Bastard," she whispered, a fierce pride forcing the foul word out of her mouth. She hated using coarse language, an endeavor now lost after all these childish fights. Childish but deadly - there is no greater weapon than the tongue. She often sat in the hospital wing after fights like these, wondering which of the two were the lesser evil. Finally, after what seemed like the thousandth fight, she decided that it was worse to fight with words rather than fists. With punches, sure they hurt, a stinging pain that throbbed for the first few minutes, but ultimately a pain the would subside. But the insults - you heard them once, and even after the fight was long over, you heard them in your head. Critiques and insults that always knew the right spot to jab, the weakest place to kick. By far it was the words. And she'd had enough of that.

"Oh Harry..." she sighed, taking the boy's unresponsive hand into her own. "I won't stand for this anymore. I won't. You were right to hit him. You were bloody right. I'm going to see that he never does this again." Her mind was set on tracking down the wretch who did this, and once and for all she would end it.


"Poor Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived. The Victim."

Harry's reserves finally burst. He had to say something. "Malfoy, there are plenty of victims. Anyone who has suffered because of Voldemort is a victim. And one day-"

Draco cut in. "Oh come off it, Potter," drawled Malfoy, his contempt sickeningly obvious. "How many more people d'you have to get killed before you realize nothing you do can ever stop the Dark Lord?" Harry visibly paled at the harsh words. Ron quickly told him to disregard the comment, but too late. Hermione realized the dawning look of understanding cross Harry's eyes.

"Harry don't you listen-" she began, but Harry interrupted.

"N-no...he's right. I'm to blame for Cedric's death. For my-" he paused, and for a moment Hermione was certain he would cry, "..for my parents." Cold satisfaction lit Malfoy's face as he laughed in Harry's obvious torment - a laugh cut short by Harry's fury.

"But at least I can admit it. At least I know how to take the blame. Something you, Malfoy, have neither the courage nor decency to ever do." There was silence in the corridor. The students who were watching peeked behind their hiding places to see what Draco would do. When he finally answered, his voice was silent. And deadly.

"How dare you, Potter," he said in a soft but clear voice, "speak to me of courage when your own has failed you? This famous Gryffindor courage that so many rave about. This famous Gryffindor courage that you shed the instant you had to duel the Dark Lord. This famous Gryffindor courage that made you run and hide behind your mum's skirt. Oh no, wait, you don't even have a mum, then, do you." The onlookers gasped, and before Hermione could think to hold her two best friends back, Ron had leapt forward and started pummeling Malfoy into the wall. A general frenzy broke out, and you could hear terrified screams erupt everywhere. The mass that was Draco and Ron writhed, causing liberal amounts of blood to be spewed on the floor. Hermione made her way forward to find some way to part the two, but Harry beat her to it. Though he was not there for peace. He was there for vengeance.

With a swift shove, he pushed Ron out of the way and stood before Malfoy, whose dramatically bleeding lip made him look like the soulless vampire that he was. The bloody boy swayed as if drunk and imperceptibly smiled at Harry.

"Who's the victim now, Potter? Huh? Who's the victim now?" In the blink of an eye, Draco was sprawling through the air then hitting the floor. Out cold. Harry had punched him square in the face with the force of what seemed like 10 men. Then Harry dropped without a word - his head making a sickening thud as it hit the ground.


She woke with a jolt, her mouth open in a silent scream that teemed to be released. She was still in the hospital wing, Harry's hand still unmoving in her own. She'd been dreaming; reliving the fight. Resolute, she removed her hand from Harry's. She'd find Malfoy in Dumbledore's office, being interrogated with Ron about what happened. 'Probably lying through his teeth, the bastard,' she thought. Casting a last look at her unconscious friend, Hermione left the hospital wing padding silently through the door.

The castle corridors seemed cold and distant as she walked them. It was as if a breeze swept through the closed windows, ruffling her robes as she quickened her pace. It was late, and it wouldn't be prudent to be caught wandering around late at night. Even the best student could be shown in a horrible light by the wrong Professor. She thought sourly on Professor Snape and her latest detention - yet another calamity involving Malfoy. Would she ever be free of his mocking sneers?

She knew the place instantly as she approached it. How many times had her tired legs brought her up the stairs and down this very hall? The stone gargoyle sprang aside as she neared it, and who else should emerge but Draco Malfoy. His smirk was almost unbearable.

"Smashing that you could make it, Granger. You're just in time to see the Weasel off. They'll be suspending him soon enough."

"Oh ha-ha, Malfoy. A clever one, you."

His arrogant smile vanished and the never ceasing hate flashed in his eyes. "Move it, mudblood. Your teeth are obstructing my path." Hermione's teeth length was a thing of the past, but that's what Draco loved to attack, things you couldn't change anymore. Fortunately for Hermione, she had solved that problem in her fourth year.

"Nice try, Malfoy, but you won't get me there. I can take more than that."

He looked at her nonplused. "Will you shut up and move? What the hell are you doing anyway?" His annoyance gave her confidence. She felt a heat flush her face, one of pure anger, something she'd only felt once before. She'd struck Malfoy once out of sheer hate, now Harry and Ron were not there to stop her. Malfoy had seen to that.

"I've learned some interesting curses, Malfoy. I was hopping we could practice. You probably know loads seeing as how your father is a blazing psychopath." Her voice was flat and devoid of all emotion. Draco goggled at her.

"Are you barking, Granger?" He paused and nodded, "Yes, yes I think you are." He made a move to step around her, but Hermione was quicker.

"You've no right to keep on tormenting Harry and Ron like you do."

He smirked at her once again, his confidence unwavering. "Oh? That right, mudblood? And what is someone like yourself going to do about it?" He laughed, enjoying the fact that he thought he'd won yet again. And for a moment, Hermione felt at a loss. This was the boy who's father could make her disappear. This was the boy who had damaged her self-esteem in front of many of her peers. This was the boy who had the audacity to think he could insult her friends time after time without any consequence. Draco Malfoy, unfeeling and pathetic. He who evokes such sickness within her that she could never vomit out the hate and disgust that churned her bowels.

He was still in front of her, laughing. "Eh, Granger? Have you no answer to this question? You going to kill me?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes, her wand already raised. "Yes."

~fin