Ch 1 - Blood

My hands are drenched with fresh blood. I take in the sight before me – two lifeless bodies sprawled on the wooden floor. One six-year-old boy, and one middle-aged man. I feel no guilt, no shame. I smile and a deep chuckle comes out of my throat.

I look to my left. She sits on the ground, her long, flimsy hair covering her beautiful face, her hands shaking. She is still crying, but I do not hear her sobs. I refuse to focus on my anger. Instead, I focus on my victory.

I look to my right. Inside the bassonett is my daughter. I wipe my red hands on my jeans and walk up to the crib. She lies so still – so peaceful. It is as if nothing beyond a small verbal argument happened here tonight. I reach into the crib, and stroke her small hands. "Esme, my Esme. You're so beautiful. Seems like yesterday you were just born, but now you are almost one," I whisper. I stroke her plump cheeks, but she does not stir. "Daddy's here, ok? I love you. I will always be here for you. Just you and me. Just you and me."

I can hear whimpering sounds now. My heart starts to ache and I can feel the anger rising within my veins.

"Bitch!" I yell. "Shut the fuck up. You are going to wake our daughter up from her sleep!" I look in her dark brown eyes, and it seems as though they are on fire.

"You evil bastard!" She yells. She raises her right arm, but my brain is alert and my eyes are quick – I catch her wrist. I look at the crib – Esme doesn't need to know what is going to happen next.

I strengthen my grip on her arm and she winces. I take her other hand, and she begins to fight back, her body jerking against mine. Her strength means nothing and in an instant we are in another room and I slam her against the wall.

She moans from the pain of the impact and I laugh. "You deserve it," I say and slap her face. My hands have a hold on her arms and she struggles, but she is weak. Too weak. Angry, determined sounds come from her mouth, but I do not hear them. Tears begin to roll down once again, but rather than plead mercy, all they seem to do is make me angry.

"How dare you," I growl in her ear. "How dare you fucking cry. How dare you let them into my house!" I roar and her sobs are silenced. "How could you? How could you love him out of nowhere? What about ME Hermione? What about US? What about ESME? You mudblood whore."

She spits in my face. I spit right back. I release her, knowing she is too proud to leave. Too proud to admit defeat and run.

Her eyes are red, her cheeks are stained with tears, but somehow sounds of grief manage to escape her throat. Uncertainty and fear are etched in her skin. She knows she is going to lose.

"Why are you doing this?" she screams. "Leave me be! Leave Esme be! You are always gone! You're never here! You cheat on me when you're away on your so called 'job'! You treat me as if I don't exist! Not even a phone call – I have to speak to your agent or publicist before I can even talk to you. So what's it to you that I marry him? What's it to you that I finally find happiness? Leave me alone Dra--" I hit her again to get her to shut up. Her voice makes my ears bleed.

"ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZY? This is MY house. This is MY couch. That is MY TV! That is MY daughter. And you – you are my wife! You fucking bitch! How could you do this to me? I gave you everything! I moved into the fucking muggle world for you. Maybe I cheated, but that was years ago! We settled it! We talked about it. I never knew it would come back." I can hear the pathetic cries of my voice, but I don't care. My heart is bleeding. I am going to pour it all out. Pour it all out.

"Hermione! Why don't you love me? Is it because I'm pure? Is it because I'm Slytherin? Am I too ugly? Am I too tall? Am I too fucking pale? HERMIONE. I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU!" I yell once more. My hands are wrapped around her arms and I shake her with each piercing phrase. "I HATE YOU. Oh my god, I LOVE you. I love you. Why? How?"

Using my left hand, I take her right hand and I place it over my beating heart. "You hear that?" I whisper. "It is breaking. It is bleeding. Because of you."

A silver dagger appears in my right hand. How wonderful wandless magic is. How cursed it can be. Her eyes widen at the sight. Her hands go all over her body searching for her wand. She runs to the door, but it is locked. She pulls and pulls. I saunter towards her, like a lion closing in on its prey. "No, no, Draco, don't." She shakes her head 'no', but all I see is heartache, heartbreak, and twisted love. Images of her and that man come to my mind. Kissing her, hugging her, holding her, fucking her, and her kissing him, hugging him, holding him, fucking him – and all of this happening in my house – it disgusts me. She disgusts me.

I am in front of her now. She smells like him. I want to kiss her, tell her I love her, but my mind has one goal: kill her. Kill her. Kill her.


A/N: Any comment or instructive criticism is much appreiciated. Thank you for reading. :)