A/N This account is honestly such a mess, there are so many stories that were started and never deleted works I am definitely not proud of and works that are not my own. I am a sentimental fool, and think that I will someday finish them (when I probably never will). So those are these. This one however, will be different. I already have around 10,000 words, and that's just the beginning. I WILL find the time to write, and updates will be iffy, but expect the next chapter to be up next Monday as well.
This story is roughly based off the song Is There Somewhere, by Halsey. Listen to it, she is amazing.
Hope everyone enjoys this first chapter.
xo, A
Pilot
All is still.
Not a peep, nor a word.
Everyone is waiting in bated silence, no one knows the outcome, but they are prepared for the worst and hoping for the best.
But that is a story for another time
…
Our story begins in the dingy stables, one the royals would never dare to step into. The floor was covered with had that has been chewed on by the horses, but then spit out due to it's foul taste. Horse dung lay sprawled along the ground, stinking up the place. But here, in this disgusting little hovel barely fit for a horse of low-standing, we meet our princess.
Crouched on her knees, wearing nothing but a filthy brown dress barely fit for a peasant, an apron that had not seen the daylight for a few years, and some dirty undergarments, that had to be at least eight years old. Her wand was poking into her side, reminding her why she was working in that place, why she hadn't up and run at the first chance she got.
A stout woman with her hair tied up into a bun that had once been tied, but was now as loose as her morals. There was a big wart on the side of her face, and she had brown eyes, that had once been beautiful, but had been dulled by age and the lack of emotion to keep them expressive.
"These hooves better shine by dawn lassie, you know, we have very important visitors coming tomorrow, and we dare not have them come to us with our manor in anything but perfect condition." The caretaker of this estate sneered down at little Hermione, her face twisted with disgust, as she noticed the horse dung that clung to her shoes, and rushed to leave the smelly stables as soon as possible. Leaving Hermione all by herself again.
Hermione herself, had been stuck in these stables ever since she turned nine. The years before that she worked as a regular maid, cooking and cleaning, along with the other maids. All the other young maids worked in the kitchen with their mothers, and lived down in the village nearby, arriving at dawn and leaving a few hours till dusk, Lord Granger being too kind to keep them dawn to dusk.
When the princess, Perdita, requested a grand stables to be built so she could learn how to ride, no one had wanted to work down there. And poor Hermione, having no choice, and having the disadvantage of being the only maid who worked and slept in the manor, was thrown into the stables by the caretaker, Leona.
Leona had never liked her, always treating her worse than others, and giving her the dirtiest jobs even the house elves would refuse to do. And when she gave Hermione the job in the stables, she sent her off with a flimsy, old and ratty blanket, and stale smile that had been sitting out in the hot sun for way too long.
However, Hermione was resilient. She believed that even though life threw these hardships at her, it was for a reason. She was a firm believer that your past actions came back to you, whether you were like her, or like Leona.
But Perdita was a completely different story. The princess was loved by her father, and no one else. And maybe Leona, if she had any space in her heart to love someone that wasn't herself.
It was a well known fact that her father doted on Perdita, and loved her like no other. After the death of the late queen, Sicily, who said to have been a magnificent ruler, much unlike her daughter who seemed to have inherited no valuable traits from her parents except her good looks.
Why, some have even speculated that she might not even be royal blood! But once you get a close up of her face, all quams were squashed.
Her bright hazel eyes were almost identical to her fathers, and her beautiful, perfectly smooth, and wavy brown hair with subtle tints of blonde, we're a perfect dupe for her mothers.
All in all she a natural beauty. Not needing any of the fake beauty enhancers used by many of the rich, for she had it all.
Perfect life, perfect father.
She was everything Hermione wasn't, and was everything Hermione wanted.
Hermione sighed looking at all the work left to do. Sometimes, down there in the stables it seemed as if the work never ended, and there was no reason for her to be down there. But she ignored her little thoughts. There were no time for them, and she had a lot of work to do, and it looked like she wasn't going to get any help.
…
Draco Malfoy sat at the foot of his bed, getting ready to leave behind the only walls he's ever known. This trip had been planned ever since he was child. He was told that he and his parents would travel to the land, where his soon-to-be wife lives.
He had never met her, nor had he ever heard her name. All he knew was that at birth, it was decided that they were to be magically bonded, tied by the heart. Never to love, or be with another. This had caused some problems for him throughout the years however. Whenever his friends would travel to the nearest brothel for a night of fun and women, he would be stuck behind, yearning for only one women, who he had never met. This had caused some hidden resentment towards his parents, though they had been nothing but loving towards him in the early ages, he was forced to live a life of spinster until he married this supposed "perfect" girl.
Sometimes, it made wonder about what could make this one women so special. For truly no one person could be so perfect for him. There was always something off about the girls he had met before, and thought he had never met this one, he was sure she would be the same.
Was it even possible?
Draco suspected that it wasn't.
She was probably just another insipid pureblood, with nothing other than complaints and tears about why everything in the world couldn't be hers. Why she probably even had an entire closet dedicated to evening gowns, one for nightgowns, and one for day gowns. She probably didn't even know how to use a wand much less cast spells. Draco however, had a private tutor who had been teaching and wield his wand for the greater good, and for some situations that may require something other than stupefies and expelliarmus.
"Now remember Draco, this is not our kingdom, we must show our best foot." Lucius did a once-over of his son, and made a nod of approval. Determining that he looked presentable enough to face the well-known Kingdom of Danforth Granger. Though the man, was his sworn enemy since their nappies, their wives had always got along well.
When the two had been deemed "soulmates". Narcissa, Lucius's wife was ecstatic, and the two families had met, planning for another meeting later in the two kids lives.
Since the Granger's daughter was born ninth months prior to Draco, they had decided that a fortnight prior to her coming of age, they two would meet, and spend the following nine months courting each other, to be married the day after Draco's coming of age.
However romantic it may be, that Draco was destined to marry his "perfect" girl. He was terrified shitless. What if she had six fingers, or looked like a hag?
"Yes father" Draco rolled his eyes at his father, how many times had he heard the speech, "we are Malfoy's son, and Malfoys are of the best pedigree", "You must uphold the family name". Everything was about the family name.
The Stupid family name, it was of no consequence to Draco. SInce when did he care whether or not this general wanted to have dinner, or the kingdom waned their daughter to marry him. He would be better off by himself anyway, without his life already set in stone for himself before he was even able to say a single word.
"Now Draco, we must not show up with that attitude. Come now, your mother is waiting for us."
…
Draco stood in front of a manor (that was really more castle-like), that was surely the size of Malfoy Manor, if not bigger. The Granger Manor was pure white, most likely charmed to stay that way with long towers, and a grand stables visible in the distance that must be the size of the grand ballroom, back at his home.
A chauffour welcomed them into the the manor through the grand black doors, the only color on the exterior besides white. It opened to a grand marble staircase that must taken ages to build. The railing was outlined in the same gold as the walls, and Draco was unsure as to whether it was real or not.
A kind elderly man, wearing a pure black robes welcomed them into the manor. Brown hair, and chestnut eyes, telltale signs of the Granger family. Draco couldn't help but shake his head at how different this man was from his father.
While his father would never been caught dead welcoming guests into his home, leaving the servants to do that, this man was willingly doing just that. While his father was stoic and cold, this man had warm smile on his face, and immediately gave a kind hug to his mother as soon as he had seen her. Almost unheard of within society, it even make Draco let our a small gasp, as he widened his eyes the slightest.
Lucius cleared his throat, and put on a frosty smile as he greeted Lord Granger, commending him on the lovely appearance of his home, and had the staircase always been plated in real gold? Lord Granger just chuckled, and mentioned that he would do anything for his daughter.
"Speaking of the lovely Perdita, where is she, I have been simply waiting to meet here for the longest time, your letters cannot possible live up to the real thing." His mother clapped her hands together, and gave Draco chills up his back.
Pretty, and wants the stairs plated with gold, that doesn't sound too good.
"Ah yes," Lord Granger began, "Perdita is resting at the moment, preparing for her first meeting with Draco, she will be with us tomorrow. I will have Claudius escort Draco to his room." He gestured toward a house elf, dressed in a pillow cover that looked it had just been scrubbed for ten hours straight. The elf began to lead Draco up the grand stairs just as he heard the drowning sounds of his parents and Lord Granger, "Now would you like to join me in the parlor for some tea, I believe we have a few matters to discuss…"
…
Hermione was done.
Absolutely done with the treatment given to her, what did she ever do to deserve all this?
This evening, just as she was about to begin the trek up to the back kitchens to catch a bit of supper, Leona came to do an inspection of the stables, saying that the princess and her soon-to-husband were going to be riding the next day.
Roughly grabbing Hermione's arm she dragged her to the stables, and picked out every little speck of dust she saw, deeming Hermione unworthy of a supper until she could learn how to clean properly. And with one last harumph, which was most unladylike she left Hermione, once again, all alone.
Hermione fell to the ground, sobs breaking out of her more often then she took each breath. Her eyes became red and sore from her rubbing them with the bottom of her palms until her eyes hurt enough that they couldn't form more tears.
Hermione rued the day Leona was born. Hermione rued the day Princess Perdita was born. Wich so happened to be the day she was born as well, and with no attachments to that coincidence, Hermione rued the day she herself was born.
For if she had been not been born as herself, she cold have a better life for yourself. One where she wouldn't have to hungry almost every night Where she could dress up fo balls, and giggle with other ladies her age over the cute boys. And then she would one day meet her own prince charming, and have a family, a home, and everything in between.
But people like her never got the happy ending, only the stupid, empty-headed Perditas of the world, spoiled silly by her parents would get what they wanted. And though she should not, Hermione screamed to the gods, looking up at the wooded top of the stable, and said "Woe is me!"
Having choked out a few last sobbs, Hermione slid to the ground, and prayed for her unknown parents, and her lost life. She was stuck, and didn't know how to get out. If she was to escape, the wards on her wand, would prevent her from leaving the manor's grounds with her magic, but she suspected, some things were more important than her magic, and all other chances of her getting out of this horrid mess were slim.
She wished she weren't so scared. She wished she could be strong, and have the courage to stand up to those who tried to belittle her, and tried to make her succumb to their wills. But being raised as a servant girl, all she knew was to obey. Obey your superiors, or else you will get beaten. That was what had been ingrained in her brain since day one. And she, sadly couldn't figure out how to overcome this obstacle. All the women in the book she read were strong, and could think for themselves, not listening to anyone no matter who they were.
But life was never a fairytale.
...
His room in this manor was almost as grand as his one back home.
High, vaulted ceilings, that would be much better suited for a grand dining room. Large paintings of the landscape that could be seen through the expansive windows that took up half the room. The bed was very large fit for up to five people, (not that he had any intention to) with grand poles on each end. Complete with grand bookcase that had few empty shelves, for his own books, he assumed, and a roofing area the size of the entryway itself, Draco knew that the Grangers were not one for simplicity.
And judging by the entryway, the room, and the glimpse he got of the wash room, they spared no expenses furnishing this place.
And this thought for some reason, made him feel lonelier than he ever had before. This life, the garish and gaudy costumes, and fake masks put in place for the one reason of money. And Draco knew that this room was designed so that he would be amazed by the lavish decorations, and tell his parents how simply divine the Grangers were, and make him want to be a part of their family even more.
It made him want to hurl up his breakfast, lunch, and dinner from the day before.
If it were up to him, he would be at the Ministry, about to start his auror training. However, if he were to speak a single word of the idea, his father would surely lock him in his room for the rest of eternity He loved the idea of being able to get out, and make a difference, rather than sit up in a chair, pretending like he was helping people, when he was actually just spending their money, swinging more people into bankruptcy. He wanted to save them, to show that he wasn't just an airhead who wanted nothing more than money and power. The two things he hates the most, but the two things everyone around him loves the most.
But all he could do was sit, and watch as his life was used and wasted on the wants of other people. People who had the pretense of wanting the best for him, but in truth only wanted the satisfaction in knowing that they had gotten what they wanted without doing it themselves.
He sometimes wanted to do some things for himself, but he almost never did, scared of the repercussions that would surely befall him if anyone found it if he did. And though his parents were never for corporal punishment, the liberty taken from him would surely limit what little choices he had left.
But Draco never was one to fall prey to those around him. And this moment was no exception. And despite how pretty Perdita Granger is, how generous she acts towards the lowly peasants even going as far as to not stepping on their shoes whenever she walks throughout the village, she was fake. All her charm and personality was on the outside, on display for the mere pleasure of others leaving her devoid of anything meaningful inside.
And he was sure something must have gone wrong when the Fates had determined them the best fit for each other.
And, Draco though, as he picked up the tiny candle on the bed stand next to his bed, he most certainly did not want to be stuck to that for the rest of his life. As as out of decorum it was to even admit something like that to himself, it was the truth.
The candle lit his way, as he made his through the grand pathways of the castle, much too extravagant for his tastes, he shuddered, suddenly feeling as though his thoughts were exposed in open, and someone would come and arrest him for thinking ill of the princess.
As he approached the end of the hallway he was going towards, he spied the dirty brown wooden door he was looked for, and as slowly as he could, without making any noise, he slipped through the crack between door and wall.
The room he seem to have gotten himself into was bigger than he expected, thinking it was some sort of servant quarters, but instead he found himself in a dimly lit kitchen with three counters, all lined up in a row, but lining the walls were even more countertop space, one side held a huge place to wash dishes, and the across the room, was a place to cook food. One on of the far ends of the counter closest to the door at the other end of the kitchen, was another candle, and a plate of what looked to be stale bread, and nothing else. He looked around expecting to see someone, or more likely some dog, thinking that the food was put out for an animal to come and eat a later date, for no person would possibly want to anything of that sort.
But when he looked closer, he spied a figure that seemed to be hunched over chowing down on another piece of bread as though it would be snatched from their hands any second. But the figure was incredibly tiny and dressed in a hideout-looking brown, that was very dirty. But when he inched closer, he saw that the figure had hair, and my, it was the most beautiful hair he had ever seen. Beautiful honey, mixed with streaks of brown, and gold, and he wondered how he never noticed it when he walked in, as the candle made the different shades flicker from ten to a thousand as it hit the light. But the hair was ratted, and messy, as though the lady (he had decided that the figure was a woman, as no other could have hair that beautiful hair) had never been introduced to a comb. But when her deep gold eyes, flickered near his face, completely overlooking him, as a deep set of panic rose in his stomach, he knew he had to do something.
.
..
...
