Beggar: Oh woman of blinding beauty, I beg you, fill this bottle with your love!
Woman: I have nothing for you and your kind, but disdain, hatred, and contemn .So, if love is your request, I leave it empty!
Beggar: Fill it then, with your Hatred, for it is something. Fill it even with your contemn, for none of that I still have. Oh glorious woman of such beauty, fill it with your disdain, for every part of you is beautiful to me!
(I'm kind of proud that I wrote that myself )! Also, it pertains to the entire story not just this chapter. K!? ))
The phone rang, piercing through Hermione's apprehensive silence. She could feel that the person on the other line would have news that she would rather not hear. She let it ring, trying to delay herself the terror she needed to face.
Again it began to ring, this time more persistently, and the tension grew inside her chest. Tears began to roll down her pale cheeks, but still she did not reach for the phone. The trauma of a car accident had been enough to bear, but what was coming would be life-shattering.
She knew what they were going to say. She knew what was coming, and the difficulty ahead covered the light beyond the obstacle. All of her anxiety poured into the one simple hand motion that would change her life forever.
"Hello?" She choked back the lump in her throat. Time would have stood completely still, if she hadn't answered it.
"There's been a terrible accident, of which you have been informed?" The lady on the other side seemed impatient and cold. How could she be so insensitive….
"Mam?" Hermione could barely pull words from her mind to speak them. She squeezed her cinnamon eyes shut as tightly as she could and nodded her head.
"Yes…" Hermione's voice trailed weakly. This same woman had called her an hour ago with the news that her parents had been in an atrocious car accident, even the description of the car was enough to make her shudder. Now, she knew what was going to be said. She knew that there was no way out of it. She ran a shaky hand through her bushy brown hair and her whole body shook.
"I have terrible news…" The voice was slightly muffled by Hermione's deep breaths. It was inevitable, and the despair inside her was spilling over in the form of tears. She gripped the beige phone so strongly that her knuckes were pure white.
"Yes…" She managed meekly. Her heart was thudding in her chest. It was all over. Even she knew that.
"Both Mr. and Mrs. Granger have passed on." Hermione's silent sobs wracked her body as she dropped the phone. The end had closed its icy fingers about her neck.
She had no relatives to turn to, and had no friends that she could depend on in her situation. The family thing had always been like that. After the discovery that her parents had one of "them" the whole family on both sides had disowned her and her parents.
"Hello?...Hello!?" Words were muffled by the beige carpet. Hermione's eyes were so blurred with tears that she couldn't see it. By now everything was beginning to look the same.
The phone began its piercing beep, but Hermione's ears were deaf to it. Her body had shut down completely and all she could feel now was the pain and hurt. Darkness was falling, and so was silence. Finally, she slept.
Ron was walking through the woods with her and Harry at Hogwarts. 'Surely this is a dream' Hermione thought. "Ron?" She tried to get his attention, but he couldn't hear her. He was just trudging forward into the darkness of the woods. "Ron?" she asked again. This time he turned to look into her eyes with a smile. He mouthed the words "Goodbye 'Mione" before disappearing into the darkness of the woods. Hermione dare not follow him into such a darkness. "Surely this must be a dream," Hermione said as she stared into the depths of the wood. It was. Ron had been dead for nearly three years. "It's just a really sweet dream."
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"Draco, you incompetent little git!" Lucius's hurtful words, shot through Draco's ears as he looked up with puffy red eyes. Another kick swung into the young man's abdomen. "I told you never to disobey me!" He wanted another servant not a faithful son.
The older man sneered and spit his son in the face. "You're useless." A cold scowl formed and a large hand reached a handful of Draco's golden hair and dragged him from the room, leaving him laying in his own.
The door slammed as his father left the room. A candle came lit itself on the heavy oak nightstand next to Draco's richly dressed bed. Draco squeezed his blue eyes shut as tightly as he could when he heard the little footsteps of his father's house elf, Rimas.
This abuse was quite common for Draco, in fact his body was nearly numb to the pain. All of the cruel words rolled off his back. Inwardly he was smiling.
Slowly, he struggled to raise his body, using a cold stone wall for support. He stumbled several times before regaining equilibrium. Often times he had cried for hours after being told that he was unloved. The small and ragged house elf stood in front of him and looked up with wet and shiny eyes.
"Thank you," the small pathetic creature said before he scrambled away clutching a sock as tightly as he could. Draco smiled through the pain of his swollen lips.
Now, it didn't matter. He wished his bastard father was dead. He prayed that a holy judgment would pass, and Lucius would be punished for his sins, for his crimes against his family. He was the coldest man on the planet next to Voldemorte.
He hoped that Voldemorte would kill Lucius the same way that he killed his mother. Coldly, cruelly, and without regard. Then Lucius would know what it was like to be shunned by someone he loved. Then he would cry and feel the pain of loneliness.
Tears welled in Draco's eyes again. What a lovely fantasy that was, but he knew that there was a revenge that was sweeter than chocolate and more satisfying that sexual gratification. Something so completely vindictive, that even Draco would be proud. The best part was: he could commit it himself. It was burning inside him, satiable by nothing else, but it. His fantasy of it was almost sensual, he wanted it so badly.
The creases of his swollen lips raised into a smile, while he gazed upon his beautiful reflection in the gaudy decorative mirror. He began to blot small red spots where the blood was still flowing with a small family emblem cloth.
Oh yes. This revenge was simple, yet so delectable and complicated that anticipation flared all through Draco's body. He had raised almost 35,000 dollars (muggle money) in personal funds to finance this grand plan, and was of age and prepared both emotionally and physically to carry it out. Twenty-two couldn't come fast enough for him. He felt that it would be an age mature enough to understand what he was doing. The thought never wavered in these past few years.
His marriage to a muggle, or even a mud blood, would destroy all of Lucius's hopes and dreams for continuing this dynasty of purity. He was going to pay a woman off to marry him and bear a child for him, but he needed to find someone believable. Not just any young woman would due, and yes youth was a requirement.
His overcritical nature would ensure that he would only find the perfect woman to play the part. Oh, the enjoyment he got from this. He was going to be quite particular and finicky about which he chose. She would have to be beautiful, yes. Graceful would be of great importance, as would intelligence. Surely she couldn't be just anyone.
But a question arose in his mind. How was he going to find a beautiful, graceful, and intelligent woman that was desperate enough to marry him and give him a child for money? Or would he be the desperate one in the end? This mystery woman might be impossible to find. A faint memory came to mind. He dismissed it quickly.