Disclaimer: JKR owns everything and I don't.
September 2009 – Once again, this story is being completely re-edited. I am not happy with the "Mary-Sueishness" of Lucretia or some of the other characters and have been working on getting to know them better. Hope you enjoy – Cheers! Oh and reviews would be wonderful!
Summary: Lucretia Davenport is hardly Cinderella, but she does have a wicked Stepmother. In order to keep the peace at home her father sends her off to Hogwarts. Follow Lucretia as a strange darkness enters her life in the form of Alexander Montague. Set during OOTP, not exactly canon. Montague/OC, Warrington/OC, Blaise/PP, DMGW
Author's Notes & Warnings: This story contains mature themes. Warnings do appear at the beginning of certain chapters
Prologue
August 12th, 1996
"I didn't want this, any of this!" she screamed hoarsely, as he turned his back on her. Merlin, her throat hurt. Unconsciously, she ran her hand over the delicate white skin, as if she could feel the purple bruises she was sure his calloused hands had left.
"It wasn't a matter of what you wanted," Alexander growled darkly. He spun and faced her, his onyx eyes flashing dangerously in the dim lamplight. "It was a matter of keeping you alive Lucretia, and someday you will thank me for that."
"Keeping me alive? Bullocks Alexander! You did this to save yourself and you know it!" she screamed angrily.
Her words were too true, but the Slytherin inside him didn't give a fuck. After everything they had been through! She had left him no choice…no choice what so ever, and so he had played his hand and come out the victor. Damned witch! She would learn her place! With a sneer, Alexander Montague snatched his cloak from the black leather sofa where it lay, and strode out of the bedroom, the door slamming firmly behind him.
Tears streaming down her pale face, Lucretia slid down the wall until she made contact with the black veined marble floor. Her hands instinctively clutched at her abdomen, as if they were trying to comfort the child she had just learned she was carrying. With her head touching her knees, Lucretia Davenport's long dark hair hung like a thick curtain around her, hiding her from the strange world that had become her life. She was only fifteen, too young to become a mother. "Oh and a wife," she thought bitterly, her eyes settling on the 3 carat diamond that sparkled garishly at her from her ring finger. Instantly, the taste of bile rose up in her throat, as it had every morning for the past two weeks, and she scooted quickly off the floor to the connecting bathroom. After emptying the contents of her stomach, Lucretia climbed wearily between the azure silk sheets of the king size bed. "How did it come to this?" she whispered sadly to the empty room.