Disclaimer- I don't own Harry Potter, if I did, I'd be a very rich woman.
Heh.
-Chapter one; Draco's pov
I knew it was the end, the beginning of the end, the end of the end, I wasn't sure, but none the less the end, ~ It all started as a bet, a silly, minuscule, childish bet. But I was never one to turn down a challenge, especially against someone as daft as Ronald Weasley.
I kicked his... err... I beat him so badly that day; checkmate had come in a mere 10 minutes for me. And that wanker actually thought he was GOOD at wizard's chess.
It was ironic actually, that he had made the terms of the bet. He had obviously had a doubt of winning when he wagered Hermione's services instead of his own if he lost. If I had lost, he would have got me, but I had no fear of that and didn't look twice when I signed the withholding contract.
Weasley's eyes had grown least an inch in diameter when I had smirked triumphantly and ripped up the paper bearing my signature. When I had looked around for my prize, Hermione had been no where to be seen. I knew she was miffed at Ron for wagering her service without her consent or even acknowledgement, so I hadn't really expected her to come.
I smiled smugly at Potter and muttered a few words under my breath, leaving the Slytherin common room where the match had taken place I uttered the password to my private dorm and stepped in to see Granger standing against a wall crying, her arm raised by an almost invisible gold string that was attached to the high ceiling.
That's where it had started, I remember thanking myself for being so cunning as to place a 'retrivo' spell on the contract so if I was to win, there would only be the matter as to uttering a few words under my breath for my prize to go wherever I had directed it.
It had started with a few chores, the normal making my bed, doing my laundry, errands and such, all without magic... but it slowly turned more err... intimate? I once went as far as to make her do my laundry in nothing but her undergarments. I had watched, laughing every time she muttered something about my 'insufferable git-ness', or my 'intolerable attitude towards women', and her face flamed red, which l had learned that day started just below her collar bone, before inflaming her face.
At one point, about three weeks into her six month long sentence, I had ordered her to bring me dinner, then, when she returned, she was made to feed me. Oh I how I had loved to watch her squirm and the joy it brought me when her eyes never quite met mine when I told her to, how she always looked at my one freckle on my chin. I had never eaten so well... for one reason or another.
A month later, the ultimate task was presented to me by my mother. Since the end of the war, and the demise of my father, the Malfoy name was no longer feared and respected, it was laughed at and criticized. My mother said that that was because Muggle hating Purebloods were no longer prominent, so as to regain our wizard royal like status, she present me the challenge to court a muggle, or muggle born for that matter. I had just the toy.
Granger had screamed, thrown pillows at me, and done everything imaginable to wandlessly break down the door when I told her, but I had merely shaken my finger at her and reminded her of the contract which bound her to my every will and need. So for the next month, she helped with my façade. She was in public, my girlfriend, in private, my slave.
I remember the first time I kissed her, there were a lot of doubters about our relationship, so walking into the great hall with her, I had thrown my arm across her shoulders and declined my head to reach her height, then went for it. I was not surprised when she didn't kiss back, but smirked when she had smiled happily, albeit fakely, at the watching crowd.
Many more fake smiles had followed that, but I swear that towards the end of three weeks of our 'relationship' I had seen a real smile. I knew she craved the attention, and I gave it to her, she should have been thanking me. Not despising me.
Four months were over far too soon, and I was painstakingly made aware that I only had two more months with my girlfriend-err... my slave. That was when Weasley had challenged me to another match, claming that he had become better and couldn't stand to see Hermione in such 'mortal distress' Hermione had tried to disperse the idea from his head, but Weasley was stubborn, I'll give him that much, that is, if you consider that a compliment.
This time, we played for keeps. My terms of course. Except in exchange for me having Hermione, if he won, he didn't get me, he got Hermione back two months before her sentence ended, Hermione sat beside me, as was my command. Watching fearfully as the game went on, indeed Weasley had improved, it was a good 20 minutes before I humiliated him and whispered my spell again causing Hermione to disappear with a pop.
I again, ripped up my contract and smirked at Ron and the boy-who-lived, who were casting worried glances at each other. My, my boys, now what have we got Hermione into? A life sentence, when she was only under my command for two more months, tsk, tsk.
Of course, Hermione wasn't allowed to show her anger, since we were supposedly 'a couple', and when someone caught her looking angry, she would just reply that she wasn't happy that she was won to me as a 'slave', when she was my girlfriend.
Everyone believed that, thinking that S.P.E.W. supporting Hermione Granger had changed her cause to feminism. So by day, she loved me, not actually of course, but convincingly enough for the rest of the student population, and while in closed quarters, just as the sunset, dusk, she yelled at me, tantrums enough to wake Sir. Nicholas. I never stopped her though, thinking it best to let her rave.
I could see her slowly breaking away though, the emotional distress of holding up our romantic façade finally getting to her. She rarely slept, according to gossip I overheard from the rest of the female Gryffindors, and could often be seen wiping tears from her face during classes, so I did the only natural thing to make her happy, I dumped her.
I remember her smile, when I told her we were over, how she had run towards the door, tugging and wondering why it wouldn't open. It was then I reminded her that though our relationship was spent, our contract still withstood.
So by day, she avoided me, talked animatedly with her friends, but as I commanded, once and a while looking regretfully at me, as if she was sad our relationship ended. I often found myself looking at her the same way, for the sake of the act of course. At dusk, she cleaned my room, and did whatever odd chores I had for her, always fingering the gold bracelet attached around her right wrist. So sleek, it looked like it was drawn on with a metallic quill. Of course, this was the loop of the gold rope that attached her to me, and I had a similar silver one around my left wrist, covered by my wristwatch.
The end of our relationship was the talk of the school for days, and when the Daily Prophet arrived four days later, Hermione had looked at me, realization in her eyes, and I had nodded, and scratched my ear, the signal that we needed to talk.
When Hermione stepped into my room, I was staring into a mirror, a communication mirror. My mother could be seen in the reflection, crying openly and brandishing a copy of the Daily Prophet, her hair in wild disarray and her left arm flailing wildly as if it had no intention to follow the rest of her body.
I had quickly bid her adieu, and tapped the mirror with my wand, turning to Hermione. I still remember the look on her face, one of quiet understanding and feared realization.
When I told her we had to become a couple again, she had only nodded. Then I let her left after telling her to make herself seem happy we were reunited. The article from that paper is presently tacked to a bulletin board in my room.
Malfoy disgrace dumps muggle born girlfriend.
Draco Malfoy, son of the infamous Lucious Malfoy, has ............................................................... one must wonder if he only used her in some ploy.............................. Malfoy's disgrace to all wizards........................... Narcissa Malfoy resides in St. Mungos......... drove her to the cliff of insanity............ ploy...... dark arts............... Voldemort..................... Son of prized deatheater...............
And it went on from there, some truth, she was a pawn in his ploy, some lie, he had NOT caused his mothers insanity, his father had managed that feat years before. That's why he succumbed to her every will and desire so easily. He wanted to keep her alive. It was her hope that the Malfoy name would someday be respected again.
So Hermione and I continued our façade, the year went by and two days prior to graduation, I told her she was to be my wife. By now, she no longer did chores for me, keeping our 'relationship' intact was her only job. She had only nodded dejectedly.
So three weeks after our term at Hogwarts, we were married, a lavish wedding with everyone there. Potter was there, Weasley was not. Hermione's father had died four years prior and Harry had walked down the aisle with her. I remember everything about that day. I remember how my mother sat with two men from the hospital on either side of her, every few minutes giving an exaggerated sob.
I remember that when she said her vows, she stared at the freckle on my chin. When I was told to kiss my bride, she again put on her fake smile, feigning sickness as an excuse to skip the reception. So I never danced with my wife, not for three months when we were invited to a prominent party, securing our new found status as Wizarding Royalty. We waltzed then, and again at every party we attended. Appearances were important.
I was perfectly fine with my life, but it was obvious Hermione wasn't. She was a mere shell of her former self, her friends, now including the boy-who- lived, disowned her. So I had figured it was the perfect time to produce an heir. Our night of conceiving was loveless, lead on only by lust and abstinence. I was also surprised to find my young bride was not a virgin, but she had merely quirked an eyebrow at me mischievously.
So nine months later, my son, Gregory Malfoy, was born, and Hermione had something to occupy her time, slowly, her eyes regained their sparkle. Every few months we would sleep together, as to keep ourselves from straying, but we never made love.
Hermione busied herself with Greg, and when he was 5, I took her and my son to visit his grandmother. Narcissa was so delirious, she barely remembered who I was, she didn't remember Hermione's face at all and didn't even recall Greg's existence. I couldn't stand seeing my mother like this and next thing I knew I was sitting on a bench outside the room crying.
I knew she was going to come, and of course she had. She had sat down beside me, rubbing my back and stroking my head, because though she didn't love me, we still held a special bond. Greg visited with his grandmother for near and hour and Hermione held me the whole time, while I had poured out my soul about my mother and my grief.
Years later, I still recall my earliest memories with her. And now, as I lay in my death bed, and write them all down, I think of Hermione, and Greg and the newest and last edition, Meredith.
I like to think, that some time, during our years together, I fell in love with her. And I'm sure, we've made love at least once. In public, she was my wife, my love, in private, it didn't change. I do love you Hermione. Love Draco.
Chapter 2; Hermione's pov
I wonder why I am sad to see my husband pass, I wonder why my face is wet while I sit in my room flipping through old pictures of him waving and smiling. I had known little of Draco's childhood, until I read the first journal, which some pages were barely legible in his childish five year old scrawl. I was mentioned in it, after he turned 12, as 'the mudblood Granger' friend of 'stupid Harry Potter' and 'poor Weasley'. It did however surprise me to learn that Draco was abused as a child, many of his entries tell about the various curses his father had used on him that day.
It was the last entry that struck me though. He hadn't written in his journal since near two months after school had started seventh year, and that one had been dated little less than a week ago. Reading over his memories of me, I found myself reflecting on my memories.
I had been so angry with Ron when he told me that he had wagered my services to MALFOY of all people, and had tried desperately to find some loop hole in the binding contract spell Malfoy and Ron had used, I had actually been in the library when the woozy sensation had hit me and I had found myself in what I could only assume to be Draco Malfoy's room. It was then I knew Ron had lost. It was then I knew I had lost. So I had done the only natural thing and cried.
I remember how he liked his bed made and how he liked his tea, and how he liked to watch me do things around his room.
When I read about the laundry incident I had almost laughed aloud, knowing perfectly well that my words had been much more err... colorful than 'insufferable git.'
When I had to be his girlfriend, I was so angry. I had been very colorful with my vocabulary that day too if I recalled correctly, at the first of the relationship, he was right, I hated it, dreaded every time we were to be seen in public, but nearer the end, I am ashamed to say I did crave the attention.
When Ron, had again challenged Malfoy to chess, and I was forced to watch every one of Ron's suicidal moves that were leading to my life long sentence, of course Ron had lost, and again I was his. Whenever I was seen seething, I had to say that I was angry that I had been won as a slave, when I was his girlfriend, that phrase was still etched into the back of my head. Slave not girlfriend. Slave not girlfriend.
Being away from my friends, and being forced into his service, did make me almost indistinguishable as Hermione Granger and Ron frequently told me at meals that I must have been coming down with something. Stupid wanker. When Draco and I had broke up I was so relieved. My color returned, as did my friends.
That article, in the daily prophet, most likely written by that horrid Rita under a different name, which still hangs in our-my bedroom, made me see Draco in a different light. Not as the pompous Slytherin git, but as a boy with more troubles hanging over his head that the famous Harry Potter. An insane mother and a deatheater father, and he lived all alone in his prison full of memories.
After the episode with his mother in his room, Draco and I became a couple again. I had only the job of being his girlfriend by then, that was true. And I had known that soon enough I would have to marry him. And indeed I did. Harry, in the absence of my father had walked me down the aisle, it was any girls dream wedding, except mine.
I remember sitting in the library at the manor staring at the wall, nothing to occupy my time, and gradually I had again become that shell of Hermione Gran- Malfoy.
It was like every time I was feeling like this, Draco would come up with a solution. Of course, we couldn't break up... so we had had a child. Greggy, not that Draco would let me call him that. Gregory.
Again, my spirits had rose, and Draco and I had distinguished an indescribable bond.
The incident at the hospital has a corner of my brain all to itself. I remember everything Draco told me that day when he was crying. All about how his father used to love him and his mother used to bake him cookies at Christmas. My heart tore that day, split straight down the middle.
When I again I had felt my spirits faltering, God graced me with another child. Meredith, Merry, and my spirits rose again. My two loving children and my err... respecting husband. Merry was a problem child though, she saw Narcissa once in her existence and had screamed bloody murder. Draco and I had had another one of those 'hospital incidents' that day, I'm surprised it wasn't mentioned in his memoirs.
The last paragraph though, I have committed to memory and never intend to forget it. I had many of the same hopes as he, that we did fall in love sometime during our spent years and that we had made love atleast once, I had known, or hoped I had known that he loved me and I was his wife, not his slave. And I do love him, and intend to tell him that tomorrow, at his funeral.
Someday, I will write down my memories of Draco and Merry and Greggy and combine them with Draco to be placed in my coffin and buried with me, So I can show them to Draco when I meet him again. I can hardly wait.
Last will and testament, Draco Xavier Malfoy.
I, Draco Xavier Malfoy, hereby bind all my possessions to be distributed evenly between the aforementioned, Meredith Narcissa Malfoy, Gregory James Malfoy. I order the four largest vaults in my possession at Gringotts (vaults 327 through 330) be handed over to Mrs. Hermione Margaret Malfoy to do with as she please, and the next largest (vault 479) be donated to Narcissa Malfoy's research for a cure fund. I hereby order that the two smallest vaults (vaults 419 and 420), both with equal contents, be given to Meredith Malfoy and Gregory Malfoy. I pass the claim for my house to Hermione Margaret Malfoy, and my summer homes in Greece and Northern Canada be shared by Meredith Malfoy and Gregory Malfoy and passed on through their generations. Lastly, and most importantly, I order that before my funeral, my journals, which consist of three black books starting from my fifth birthday, are to be presented to Hermione Malfoy and the funeral is not to take place until she has read all three. With my signature, my orders bind.
X. Draco Xavier Malfoy
Okay okay, I know that might have been too much like just repeating draco's pov, but whatever. Okay? Lol, and I really didn't know how to end it. So you can think up your own ending if you don't like mine? Okay, anyway, I thought it was cute.
-Chapter one; Draco's pov
I knew it was the end, the beginning of the end, the end of the end, I wasn't sure, but none the less the end, ~ It all started as a bet, a silly, minuscule, childish bet. But I was never one to turn down a challenge, especially against someone as daft as Ronald Weasley.
I kicked his... err... I beat him so badly that day; checkmate had come in a mere 10 minutes for me. And that wanker actually thought he was GOOD at wizard's chess.
It was ironic actually, that he had made the terms of the bet. He had obviously had a doubt of winning when he wagered Hermione's services instead of his own if he lost. If I had lost, he would have got me, but I had no fear of that and didn't look twice when I signed the withholding contract.
Weasley's eyes had grown least an inch in diameter when I had smirked triumphantly and ripped up the paper bearing my signature. When I had looked around for my prize, Hermione had been no where to be seen. I knew she was miffed at Ron for wagering her service without her consent or even acknowledgement, so I hadn't really expected her to come.
I smiled smugly at Potter and muttered a few words under my breath, leaving the Slytherin common room where the match had taken place I uttered the password to my private dorm and stepped in to see Granger standing against a wall crying, her arm raised by an almost invisible gold string that was attached to the high ceiling.
That's where it had started, I remember thanking myself for being so cunning as to place a 'retrivo' spell on the contract so if I was to win, there would only be the matter as to uttering a few words under my breath for my prize to go wherever I had directed it.
It had started with a few chores, the normal making my bed, doing my laundry, errands and such, all without magic... but it slowly turned more err... intimate? I once went as far as to make her do my laundry in nothing but her undergarments. I had watched, laughing every time she muttered something about my 'insufferable git-ness', or my 'intolerable attitude towards women', and her face flamed red, which l had learned that day started just below her collar bone, before inflaming her face.
At one point, about three weeks into her six month long sentence, I had ordered her to bring me dinner, then, when she returned, she was made to feed me. Oh I how I had loved to watch her squirm and the joy it brought me when her eyes never quite met mine when I told her to, how she always looked at my one freckle on my chin. I had never eaten so well... for one reason or another.
A month later, the ultimate task was presented to me by my mother. Since the end of the war, and the demise of my father, the Malfoy name was no longer feared and respected, it was laughed at and criticized. My mother said that that was because Muggle hating Purebloods were no longer prominent, so as to regain our wizard royal like status, she present me the challenge to court a muggle, or muggle born for that matter. I had just the toy.
Granger had screamed, thrown pillows at me, and done everything imaginable to wandlessly break down the door when I told her, but I had merely shaken my finger at her and reminded her of the contract which bound her to my every will and need. So for the next month, she helped with my façade. She was in public, my girlfriend, in private, my slave.
I remember the first time I kissed her, there were a lot of doubters about our relationship, so walking into the great hall with her, I had thrown my arm across her shoulders and declined my head to reach her height, then went for it. I was not surprised when she didn't kiss back, but smirked when she had smiled happily, albeit fakely, at the watching crowd.
Many more fake smiles had followed that, but I swear that towards the end of three weeks of our 'relationship' I had seen a real smile. I knew she craved the attention, and I gave it to her, she should have been thanking me. Not despising me.
Four months were over far too soon, and I was painstakingly made aware that I only had two more months with my girlfriend-err... my slave. That was when Weasley had challenged me to another match, claming that he had become better and couldn't stand to see Hermione in such 'mortal distress' Hermione had tried to disperse the idea from his head, but Weasley was stubborn, I'll give him that much, that is, if you consider that a compliment.
This time, we played for keeps. My terms of course. Except in exchange for me having Hermione, if he won, he didn't get me, he got Hermione back two months before her sentence ended, Hermione sat beside me, as was my command. Watching fearfully as the game went on, indeed Weasley had improved, it was a good 20 minutes before I humiliated him and whispered my spell again causing Hermione to disappear with a pop.
I again, ripped up my contract and smirked at Ron and the boy-who-lived, who were casting worried glances at each other. My, my boys, now what have we got Hermione into? A life sentence, when she was only under my command for two more months, tsk, tsk.
Of course, Hermione wasn't allowed to show her anger, since we were supposedly 'a couple', and when someone caught her looking angry, she would just reply that she wasn't happy that she was won to me as a 'slave', when she was my girlfriend.
Everyone believed that, thinking that S.P.E.W. supporting Hermione Granger had changed her cause to feminism. So by day, she loved me, not actually of course, but convincingly enough for the rest of the student population, and while in closed quarters, just as the sunset, dusk, she yelled at me, tantrums enough to wake Sir. Nicholas. I never stopped her though, thinking it best to let her rave.
I could see her slowly breaking away though, the emotional distress of holding up our romantic façade finally getting to her. She rarely slept, according to gossip I overheard from the rest of the female Gryffindors, and could often be seen wiping tears from her face during classes, so I did the only natural thing to make her happy, I dumped her.
I remember her smile, when I told her we were over, how she had run towards the door, tugging and wondering why it wouldn't open. It was then I reminded her that though our relationship was spent, our contract still withstood.
So by day, she avoided me, talked animatedly with her friends, but as I commanded, once and a while looking regretfully at me, as if she was sad our relationship ended. I often found myself looking at her the same way, for the sake of the act of course. At dusk, she cleaned my room, and did whatever odd chores I had for her, always fingering the gold bracelet attached around her right wrist. So sleek, it looked like it was drawn on with a metallic quill. Of course, this was the loop of the gold rope that attached her to me, and I had a similar silver one around my left wrist, covered by my wristwatch.
The end of our relationship was the talk of the school for days, and when the Daily Prophet arrived four days later, Hermione had looked at me, realization in her eyes, and I had nodded, and scratched my ear, the signal that we needed to talk.
When Hermione stepped into my room, I was staring into a mirror, a communication mirror. My mother could be seen in the reflection, crying openly and brandishing a copy of the Daily Prophet, her hair in wild disarray and her left arm flailing wildly as if it had no intention to follow the rest of her body.
I had quickly bid her adieu, and tapped the mirror with my wand, turning to Hermione. I still remember the look on her face, one of quiet understanding and feared realization.
When I told her we had to become a couple again, she had only nodded. Then I let her left after telling her to make herself seem happy we were reunited. The article from that paper is presently tacked to a bulletin board in my room.
Malfoy disgrace dumps muggle born girlfriend.
Draco Malfoy, son of the infamous Lucious Malfoy, has ............................................................... one must wonder if he only used her in some ploy.............................. Malfoy's disgrace to all wizards........................... Narcissa Malfoy resides in St. Mungos......... drove her to the cliff of insanity............ ploy...... dark arts............... Voldemort..................... Son of prized deatheater...............
And it went on from there, some truth, she was a pawn in his ploy, some lie, he had NOT caused his mothers insanity, his father had managed that feat years before. That's why he succumbed to her every will and desire so easily. He wanted to keep her alive. It was her hope that the Malfoy name would someday be respected again.
So Hermione and I continued our façade, the year went by and two days prior to graduation, I told her she was to be my wife. By now, she no longer did chores for me, keeping our 'relationship' intact was her only job. She had only nodded dejectedly.
So three weeks after our term at Hogwarts, we were married, a lavish wedding with everyone there. Potter was there, Weasley was not. Hermione's father had died four years prior and Harry had walked down the aisle with her. I remember everything about that day. I remember how my mother sat with two men from the hospital on either side of her, every few minutes giving an exaggerated sob.
I remember that when she said her vows, she stared at the freckle on my chin. When I was told to kiss my bride, she again put on her fake smile, feigning sickness as an excuse to skip the reception. So I never danced with my wife, not for three months when we were invited to a prominent party, securing our new found status as Wizarding Royalty. We waltzed then, and again at every party we attended. Appearances were important.
I was perfectly fine with my life, but it was obvious Hermione wasn't. She was a mere shell of her former self, her friends, now including the boy-who- lived, disowned her. So I had figured it was the perfect time to produce an heir. Our night of conceiving was loveless, lead on only by lust and abstinence. I was also surprised to find my young bride was not a virgin, but she had merely quirked an eyebrow at me mischievously.
So nine months later, my son, Gregory Malfoy, was born, and Hermione had something to occupy her time, slowly, her eyes regained their sparkle. Every few months we would sleep together, as to keep ourselves from straying, but we never made love.
Hermione busied herself with Greg, and when he was 5, I took her and my son to visit his grandmother. Narcissa was so delirious, she barely remembered who I was, she didn't remember Hermione's face at all and didn't even recall Greg's existence. I couldn't stand seeing my mother like this and next thing I knew I was sitting on a bench outside the room crying.
I knew she was going to come, and of course she had. She had sat down beside me, rubbing my back and stroking my head, because though she didn't love me, we still held a special bond. Greg visited with his grandmother for near and hour and Hermione held me the whole time, while I had poured out my soul about my mother and my grief.
Years later, I still recall my earliest memories with her. And now, as I lay in my death bed, and write them all down, I think of Hermione, and Greg and the newest and last edition, Meredith.
I like to think, that some time, during our years together, I fell in love with her. And I'm sure, we've made love at least once. In public, she was my wife, my love, in private, it didn't change. I do love you Hermione. Love Draco.
Chapter 2; Hermione's pov
I wonder why I am sad to see my husband pass, I wonder why my face is wet while I sit in my room flipping through old pictures of him waving and smiling. I had known little of Draco's childhood, until I read the first journal, which some pages were barely legible in his childish five year old scrawl. I was mentioned in it, after he turned 12, as 'the mudblood Granger' friend of 'stupid Harry Potter' and 'poor Weasley'. It did however surprise me to learn that Draco was abused as a child, many of his entries tell about the various curses his father had used on him that day.
It was the last entry that struck me though. He hadn't written in his journal since near two months after school had started seventh year, and that one had been dated little less than a week ago. Reading over his memories of me, I found myself reflecting on my memories.
I had been so angry with Ron when he told me that he had wagered my services to MALFOY of all people, and had tried desperately to find some loop hole in the binding contract spell Malfoy and Ron had used, I had actually been in the library when the woozy sensation had hit me and I had found myself in what I could only assume to be Draco Malfoy's room. It was then I knew Ron had lost. It was then I knew I had lost. So I had done the only natural thing and cried.
I remember how he liked his bed made and how he liked his tea, and how he liked to watch me do things around his room.
When I read about the laundry incident I had almost laughed aloud, knowing perfectly well that my words had been much more err... colorful than 'insufferable git.'
When I had to be his girlfriend, I was so angry. I had been very colorful with my vocabulary that day too if I recalled correctly, at the first of the relationship, he was right, I hated it, dreaded every time we were to be seen in public, but nearer the end, I am ashamed to say I did crave the attention.
When Ron, had again challenged Malfoy to chess, and I was forced to watch every one of Ron's suicidal moves that were leading to my life long sentence, of course Ron had lost, and again I was his. Whenever I was seen seething, I had to say that I was angry that I had been won as a slave, when I was his girlfriend, that phrase was still etched into the back of my head. Slave not girlfriend. Slave not girlfriend.
Being away from my friends, and being forced into his service, did make me almost indistinguishable as Hermione Granger and Ron frequently told me at meals that I must have been coming down with something. Stupid wanker. When Draco and I had broke up I was so relieved. My color returned, as did my friends.
That article, in the daily prophet, most likely written by that horrid Rita under a different name, which still hangs in our-my bedroom, made me see Draco in a different light. Not as the pompous Slytherin git, but as a boy with more troubles hanging over his head that the famous Harry Potter. An insane mother and a deatheater father, and he lived all alone in his prison full of memories.
After the episode with his mother in his room, Draco and I became a couple again. I had only the job of being his girlfriend by then, that was true. And I had known that soon enough I would have to marry him. And indeed I did. Harry, in the absence of my father had walked me down the aisle, it was any girls dream wedding, except mine.
I remember sitting in the library at the manor staring at the wall, nothing to occupy my time, and gradually I had again become that shell of Hermione Gran- Malfoy.
It was like every time I was feeling like this, Draco would come up with a solution. Of course, we couldn't break up... so we had had a child. Greggy, not that Draco would let me call him that. Gregory.
Again, my spirits had rose, and Draco and I had distinguished an indescribable bond.
The incident at the hospital has a corner of my brain all to itself. I remember everything Draco told me that day when he was crying. All about how his father used to love him and his mother used to bake him cookies at Christmas. My heart tore that day, split straight down the middle.
When I again I had felt my spirits faltering, God graced me with another child. Meredith, Merry, and my spirits rose again. My two loving children and my err... respecting husband. Merry was a problem child though, she saw Narcissa once in her existence and had screamed bloody murder. Draco and I had had another one of those 'hospital incidents' that day, I'm surprised it wasn't mentioned in his memoirs.
The last paragraph though, I have committed to memory and never intend to forget it. I had many of the same hopes as he, that we did fall in love sometime during our spent years and that we had made love atleast once, I had known, or hoped I had known that he loved me and I was his wife, not his slave. And I do love him, and intend to tell him that tomorrow, at his funeral.
Someday, I will write down my memories of Draco and Merry and Greggy and combine them with Draco to be placed in my coffin and buried with me, So I can show them to Draco when I meet him again. I can hardly wait.
Last will and testament, Draco Xavier Malfoy.
I, Draco Xavier Malfoy, hereby bind all my possessions to be distributed evenly between the aforementioned, Meredith Narcissa Malfoy, Gregory James Malfoy. I order the four largest vaults in my possession at Gringotts (vaults 327 through 330) be handed over to Mrs. Hermione Margaret Malfoy to do with as she please, and the next largest (vault 479) be donated to Narcissa Malfoy's research for a cure fund. I hereby order that the two smallest vaults (vaults 419 and 420), both with equal contents, be given to Meredith Malfoy and Gregory Malfoy. I pass the claim for my house to Hermione Margaret Malfoy, and my summer homes in Greece and Northern Canada be shared by Meredith Malfoy and Gregory Malfoy and passed on through their generations. Lastly, and most importantly, I order that before my funeral, my journals, which consist of three black books starting from my fifth birthday, are to be presented to Hermione Malfoy and the funeral is not to take place until she has read all three. With my signature, my orders bind.
X. Draco Xavier Malfoy
Okay okay, I know that might have been too much like just repeating draco's pov, but whatever. Okay? Lol, and I really didn't know how to end it. So you can think up your own ending if you don't like mine? Okay, anyway, I thought it was cute.