Just keep breathing
Everyone thinks they’re being so quiet.
Hermione can hear it in the looks that pass between them all. In the silence that echoes throughout a room as soon as she walks into it. Even the library -which should be quiet anyway - is quieter.
It’s like they’re afraid she’s going to break. Like they think she’s stupid. That she can’t hear every single word they don’t say when they look at her.
“Found her floating in the lake face down.”
“Don’t know how long she was there for-”
“Why would she-”
“Did someone push her?”“
“She tried to kill herself.”
Tried and failed she thinks bitterly when she catches them not quite staring at her. She falls into her usual seat at her usual table at the back of the library and can barely contain gritting her teeth when Malfoy and Riddle fall into the empty chairs beside her.
This has been their routine for weeks now. Ever since Dra- Malfoy, found her in the lake and dragged her back to the land of the living. She can barely escape his sight these days. She doesn’t understand why Riddle is obsessed with her though. He didn’t pull her out of that lake. He’s never even spoken to her in seven years of schooling and now he’s like her fucking shadow - and he still doesn’t speak to her. Just appears alongside Malfoy every single time she thinks she about to get a minutes peace.
“Why did you do it?” He asks and Hermione drops her bag she’s that startled. Malfoy jumps from his seat and begins to gather her belongings back up and Hermione just stares at Riddle. He’s perfectly relaxed with his leg’s thrown over the arm of his chair and he hasn’t even looked up from his book.
“What?” She stamers in reply, though she knows exactly to what he referring to.
“Tom,” Malfoy warns, standing from the ground and wordlessly passing Hermione her repacked satchel. “Don’t.”
He doesn’t listen to him.
“Why did you do it? Why did you try and drown yourself in the lake. Was it for attention? What could possibly be so bad for Gryffindor’s golden girl that the only way out would be to kill herself? I mean,” he flicks the page of his book. He still hasn’t looked up at her. “it was obviously a cry for attention. Any other person who really wanted to kill themselves would have been much more subtle about it. There’s a perfectly suitable bathtub on the fifth floor after all.”
Hermione stares at him for a moment, her eyes wide and her mouth agape.She blinks when he rolls up his sleeves and she can see the burn marks, from what she presumes was a cigarette and when Riddle jerks his head in Malfoys direction the blonde glares at him but reluctantly rolls up his sleeves and Hermione can see the cut marks marring his pale flesh - from a razor or a knife of somesort she does not know but she finally, finally, understands why they’ve been following her now.
“Well,” Tom interrupts and Hermione snaps her gaze back to him only to find him looking at her now. She swallows and clears her throat and pointedly looks out the window behind them, right at the Black lake she tried to drown herself in not three weeks ago.
“I was tired,” she mumbles.
Tom nods and she feels him lift his eyes from her. She visibly relaxes and turns away from the pair of them but almost stumbles when she hears Malfoy speak again.
