-A/N- I thought of this one day when I was feeling particularly bitter…so…yeah. It might not be perfectly synced altogether correctly. I apologize.
-----the story-----
The storm is approaching the shore quickly, but I don't care.
The lightning is making the air alive with electricity, pricking my skin, but I didn't care.
The rain and sleet hit my face like cold pieces of glass, possibly making me bleed, but I don't care.
The physical pain I am feeling is nothing compared to the emotional pain I felt when I saw what had become of her; when I saw what he had done to her.
She was supposed to go on and do great things; write beautiful books; teach eager children; lead wonderful revolutions! She was supposed to better the world, but what is she doing? What has she been forced to become?
A housewife. A bloody fucking homemaker.
He has ruined her chances of happiness, I know he has. I see it written all over her face.
She didn't want that. She didn't want to be the wife of a sadistic, overbearing, pig-headed, occasionally drunk, lummox. What did she want?
She wanted a man who shared her interests, a man who she could hold real conversations with. Someone who could and has suffered with her. Hell, Potter would have been a better match then the scum she saddled up with, but then of course he was too busy with the lummox's sister, wasn't he?
She doesn't have what she wants, and now she's paying for it, and so am I.
I was so stupid; I shouldn't have pushed her into his arms like that.
She told me she loved me, and I really and truly loved her back, but I panicked. I shouldn't have gone to their wedding, I take that back…what I meant to say was I should have done something, made her understand that what she was choosing was wrong!
I should have told her that she'd never be happy with the Weasel, instead of wishing her all the happiness that he could give her.
I should have asked her to marry me at their altar, and I think she secretly wished me to as well, but I didn't and we're suffering for our mistakes.
She's stuck raising that damned bastard's family, and I'm stuck knowing how great our life could have been.
Of course she didn't put up much of a fight when I turned her away. She willingly went to him, I guess it was out of habit, or convenience. I suppose, he was the nearest, and most available gent around…no, not gent. Faggot. Bastard. Cock-sucking twat. He certainly wasn't a 'gent.' When six out of seven nights the man comes home drunk and might quite possibly beat his wife (she denies it, but I don't believe her, neither does anyone else) the man is not a gentleman by any stretch of the imagination.
But this self-pity doesn't help my situation any, I'm standing outside her flat, looking at her window.
I'm going to help her out.
Figuring that she'd appreciate the Muggle way of courting better, I picked up a small rock and threw it. It hit the brick, not the window. Damn. Again, I threw another small rock this time it hit her window. I threw a third rock, it also hit the window.
I watched as she drew back the curtains, and opened the window carefully. "What do you want, Malfoy?"
"You." I answer. I've wanted her for the longest time, and I was going to tell her that.
"What?!"
"I want you."
"Are you drunk? Malfoy, go home, it is three o'clock in the morning. And I don't want to wake up Ron."
"Hermione, I'm sorry. I want to make things right." I spoke louder, I wanted to wake the bastard up. I'd hex him for everything he'd done to her, the physical and emotional harm, even the harm that Hermione couldn't feel. The harm that I could see. He was going to get it.
"Draco! Shhh! Please don't do this, not here. Not now…not ever. You made your decision a long time ago, ok? You had your chance and you blew it. What?" She turned to someone in the room with her. The Weasel no doubt. "It's no one, just a cat dear. I'm closing the window right now."
As she started to close the window, I couldn't stand it any longer, I began yelling. "DON'T you dare close that window on me. You owe me the decency to at least listen to what I have to say."
I could see the bastard's red head make its way to the window, Hermione's gaze immediately snapped towards the floor. Ron's face was visible now, "She doesn't owe you a damn thing, you greasy ass Ferret!"
"Is that so, Weasley? Why won't you let her speak for herself? Hermione? Is that what you think?" He was treating her the way my father treated my mother….controlling.
"What she thinks doesn't matter! She's my wife, so leave her alone!" Ron was getting angry, I could tell and I was glad for it. I eyed him, daring him to so much as to reach for a wand.
"Why don't you leave her alone, Weasley! We can all see what you're doing! She might cover up the bruises, and she might take a potion to not feel the pain, but no amount of potions or magic can hide what you're doing to her! You control everything she does like a master to a slave! Can she even pass water without your permission, Weasley?" That's it, get mad, get your wand and come out here and face me.
"Sod off, Malfoy!" Ron started to close the window more quickly than Hermione had.
"I will not 'Sod off.' I will stand down here 'til either you or Hermione walks down those stairs." I said indicating the front steps into their building with my hand.
"Fine!" I heard Hermione mumble something and Ron's answer was a very unloving, "Shut up, and don't move."
"Stand up for yourself, Hermione! Don't take it anymore!" I yelled up to her hoping that she'd take my advice. "It's the only way to end it!"
I heard a 'Shut up, Malfoy.' from somewhere in the depths of that room, but I also heard, "He's right."
"…What?"
"Ron, I can't do this anymore."
"Hermione, you're my wife. You'll do as I say."
"NO, Ron! I won't! I am my own woman, and I will do as I please! Move away from the door."
"…"
"Ron, move away from that door, or Merlin help me I will move you away from it for you."
"…"
"Ron, I said move…STUPEFY!"
Within seconds I saw her running from the building with nothing but the nightgown she had on. "Children?"
"They're with Molly." She ran into my arms and wouldn't let me go for a while. She stood there clinging to me for what I assume was her life.
"Hermione, we need to go get your children, and then we'll talk about us alright?" She merely nodded, but I knew that in that nod was a world full of "Yes's", and "Sod off's", and "I love you's." I hugged her tight, and Apparated to the rickety home where my soon-to-be children were, and where I would rectify the terrible wrong I had helped create.