Chapter 1Love is hate, Don't you see?
She stood at the window and placed her hands on the cold glass. Her breath condensed on the window as she watched the rain try to break through it.
"Don't bother" she said "I can't even break out."
She let out a frustrated sigh and turned away. Run away plans would do no good for her now. Now she needed a miracle, a very good miracle. An impossible miracle. And those weren't usually given out at beck, even to and especially to wealthy daughters.
She didn't bother with arguments or shrieks of disbelief or tears. She had no say, no input, no choice, and no destiny. Except complete and utter misery of course. There was nothing she could do, nothing she could say. She was arranged to marry him at the tender age of 17. Her mother would argue that she was lucky, plenty of girls had married before her late age of 17 and were already flush with children.
She shuddered. She didn't want to think of having children with that monster. He was an animal, not a man. A dragon, inept of any emotion except lust, fire, hatred, and cruelty. He would offer no release, no escape, and no help from the deviousness of her world. Twice as devious now that she was forced into his.
"Hermione, dear, we should talk." Her mother said weakly from the door of her only daughters room.
"Talk?" She replied, stonily and eerily calm. Hands coming down from flat to scrunched into balls, finger nails digging into her palms. "Talk about what mother? Talk about how you sold me out to the devil who lives half the way across England?"
Hermione spun around "Is that what you want to talk about mother? Because I get a high suspicion that's not what you want to talk about."
Her mother paled, if possible, and stuttered out her name. As a plea, of forgiveness, tolerance, will.
"Why don't we talk about it mother? Let's have a one on one chat seeing as I'll never get the opportunity again" Hermione walked from the window and sat on her bed, across from her mother.
"Why don't we talk about the fact that the man who you agreed was suitable to marry me is a bastard. Not a child bastard, but a despicable man with no emotion, no compassion, no sympathy. You knew what a terrible man, what a horrible thing" She said with disgust, disbelief laced into her voice. "That he is. He rapes mother. He drinks. He beats woman, and you said and agreed that this was the man for me. The one suitable and rich enough"
Hermione stood up and walked a little closer to her mother
"But mum" She said in a falsely soothing voice "That doesn't matter does it? The deal that father has with that creature Lucius, is enough to keep you bathed in riches, pearls, diamonds, and silks isn't it?"
Hermione's mother stood in shock. Mouth agape from the language her daughter was using, against her. The accusations, which we all true, did not make her any less shocked.
"It was the only way, darling." She stuttered.
"You sold me out mom!" Her breathing was somewhat unsteady "You took the easy way and opted for money instead of a man that would at least keep me alive. Do you think I'll be alive mom? In ten, twenty years?" Hermione asked, creeping closer to her mothers face once again. Somewhat enjoying her mothers face twisted in fear and doubt.
"If I'm with that man, I won't be. Congratulations mother. You have your minks and your furs and jewels. The only price is the loss of a daughter. Physically and emotionally."
Hermione turned around and walked back to the window. She said with as much hatred and calm as she could muster "Get out of my room mother." She heard her mothers overwhelming gasp from it all, and her light footsteps echoing down the hall.
She let out a small choke, and tried to get a hold of herself. She looked upwards slightly, hoping to calm those tears that oozed down her face. But it was no use, no avail. They fell. Small, tiny tears, that fell down her face without a sound and without hope. They were mourning tears, they fell for the prayer that she would be OK, even after her downfall which she knows looms on the horizon.
She was going to be married to Draco Malfoy. One way or another. There was no stopping it. And maybe, the one she should have been yelling at was her father. But that was probably no good. Her mother knew how a woman feels when her independence is stripped from her. Hermione's own mother had been forced into marriage with someone, the only difference is that time granted her love, and love in return.
There would be no love in her marriage. No going, and no coming.
'Although, if you want to get technical' She though with disdain. 'People talk as if love and hate are the exact same thing. What we lack in love, we'll make up with hate'
And she knew, she knew that her downfall would start from there.
With her finest clothes, and finest trinkets all packed into her suitcase Hermione had been on her way. She sat in the uncomfortable carriage for who-knows how long and didn't complain about the stiffness of the seat, or the bad lingering smell in the air. She took it all, and kept herself quiet and stony. She was preparing herself. Preparing herself for the way of life she would have to grow accustomed to. She was for show only now. A doll, that would smile and sit and eat when told. Her wand would be taken away from her and all of her precious spells and charms that she thrived upon would only add to the decrease of her mere existence.
Hermione closed her eyes in slight dread, remembering the stiff good-bye she had given her mother. A small, insignificant kiss on her pale, make-up covered cheek. A rosy glow only goes so far. But it had been hard to leave her father. Most of her girlfriends had admitted their fathers grew more distant when they reached the 'breeding' age. Alexandrina,Hermione'sclosest friend, toldher it was more like 'branding'. But not Hermione's father, they stayed close because he wanted to, and she adored him.
But there was nothing he could say that she already knew. Nothing could provide words of comfort, she no longer belonged to him, she would belong to a man that would never let her see her family again. He wouldn't let her think, or breathe, or live.
She opened her eyes once the manor came into view. It was big, huge, and extravagant. As she had expected. It was cold, scary, and displeasing. It made her sick to her stomach knowing that the place, this hell, would be where she would meet her end.
She had been so sure she was going to die.
But there are always different ways in which we all can die. Our souls, our bodies, our hopes, our perseverance, our integrity. Everyone loses these as times go on and our bodies get old.
Maybe he would kill her off with everything at once.
She had been so sure she was going to die.
In three months time at least, when the wedding was to be held.
She opened the door and the man who drove the carriage placed her suitcase on the step and left.
For the longest time Hermione stood on the step, aware that she could just take her suitcase and walk away. If she walked away calmly enough, maybe it could seem like she had just gotten the wrong house and was looking for the one next door.
The huge door creaked open.
Damn. Too late.
She knew of Draco Malfoy's looks. He had been a slytherin in his prestiged school. A ferret, white blond hair, lips always in a smirk or a scowl, tall in height. Looming. An air that he owned the world. He might as well have, he would take hers anyway.
But he was different. He was tall, raven black hair. Pitch black, if you stared at it long enough you might be fooled it was night. Pale, he was pale. Pale like the moon, but it was beautiful. And blue eyes, not exactly green, but they could be either way.
"Hello Miss Granger. The Malfoy's have been expecting you." He said to her, picking up her suitcase and ushering her inside.
It was cold and covered in silver. It didn't feel homely, it probably never would either.
"Miss Granger?" The man asked. She turned and stared at him with a blank face, she didn't know what to do, what to feel. She was in a rut, did she still have her feelings? Would they allow her to admit that he was beautiful.
"Yes?" Her voice was not quiet, not loud. It was a bit curious, but meaningful. She knew her place, as well as he did.
It was ironic that she was now considered as low as he was, but only after she entered his home.
"The Malfoy's wanted me to tell you that they are sorry they couldn't be here because they had important business in France, but they will be back promptly next week."
A small smile came to her lips, a seemingly real one. "They're not here then?"
He shook his head slightly "No ma'am."
"That's just about the best news I've had all month." Her hand immediately flew to her mouth.
"I wasn't supposed to say that was I?" Hermione asked. But she noticed, that he had a small smile of his own.
"It's not my place to say ma'am." He had tamed the small smile and was back to standing before her.
"Ahh, right." Was the only thing she could think of to say.
"What is your name?" She asked. She scolded herself at some level, first names were close. First names mattered.
"Excuse me miss?" Confused. He was confused, no one had ever asked his name before. If they knew any better they wouldn't, it would mean something awful from the master. But he wasn't here, and she was supposed to comply to her wishes.
"Your name" She said, a little more friendlier, a little more abrasive "I would like to know it"
"It's Harry Potter miss." He smiled a little at the end.
She looked down to her feet. Her sad smile reflecting in the tiles so cleanly and so harshly scrubbed. Harry had probably done it himself, the mansion was huge. He needed a friend. She needed an escape.
"He's not here. And don't think I don't know what I am, because I do. But that doesn't make any difference, not while I'm here now and he isn't. I'm not quite ready to give up everything I've known just yet. I want a friend for now, and you seem really nice Harry. My name is Hermione. I'd like it if you called me that."
She looked up to him and held out her hand. It was her way of saying: We're equals, embrace it. He looked down to her hand and smiled, and he took it.
It might have been the start of something beautiful, something ugly, something dangerous. But they needed each other and didn't know any other way to start.
And later, when Draco, her husband, would be gone from the manor once more. They would lay, entangled in the sheets and with each other, talking. And he would ask why she was just standing out there. And she would answer him truthfully.
But they had a long way to go. A long ride.
They both didn't know whether it would be worth it or not.
End Chapter
A/N: OKAY! I'm revising all of my chapters because I realized how sucky and immature the writing was, so I will slowly rewrite every single one of these chapters. HEY! I might even get around to finishing it. This story will be very angsty.