I was in the darkness;
I could not see my words
Nor the wishes of my heart.
Then suddenly there was a great light -
"Let me into the darkness again."
-Stephen Crane
xxxx
She stood at the edge, the wind howling around her like the sounds of women crying in mourning. So loud and empty, full of agony. It ruffled her curly, brown hair and froze her wet tears. From a distance, she could see the sun rising, lightening up the gray sky. Full and warm, a definite contrast to her mood. It was welcoming, bright. And it did nothing to bring her out of her year-long sorrows, her melancholy expression, her everlasting pain.
It was so bright, she had to look away. So she looked down. Toward her intended destination. The end of her journey. Had she stood her one year ago, she would have already died from fright. Down below, she could see the forest green grass, the dark, leaf-less trees that seemed miles away and smaller than usual.
She wasn't a rule breaker. Despite the hardships she faced, her cruel treatments she endured, there was always that sense to do the right thing. And yet, no matter how many times she followed the rules, nothing stopped her from breaking this one. If it wasn't for her defeated self, the desire to end it all and succumb to her greatest fear, she would have been still tucked in her bed, in the Head quarters. Maybe today they wouldn't have bothered her while she slept. Maybe today they would have left her alone, finally showing some heart and realizing that she wanted to be alone. Maybe today he would not hurt her, with his vile, taunting words. His unbearably strong grips, bruising her already sore wrists from all the times he gripped her harshly.
Somehow she was able to sneak out the Head quarters without being noticed, without being hexed in the halls as she slipped up to the Astronomy Tower.
Luck?
She didn't want to call it that. No. How was it luck that today of all days, they leave her alone? The very same day she decided she had enough. Her last string of patience and hope, broken. Snapped. Only detached emptiness remained lingering within her, while the rest of her was robotic. An empty shell. It was only last night when she thought of her meaningless life, all the while ignoring the disgusting sounds of grunting and lustful groaning from the next room, the sound of creaking and pounding against the wall. Couple of months ago, she would felt immeasurable pain in her stomach. Her heart. She never wanted to feel like that, to feel anything because of him. Because of how crude, scandalous, repulsive, absolutely sickening he was. But she had no choice but to feel. But to hurt. She had no choice.
Why, Merlin, was she being tortured? Was taking Ron and Harry away from her not enough? Why must she endure more pain and loss?
When she discovered the real reason why she felt like a scorching fire entering her heart and burning her fiercely from inside, it was the day she ran into Draco Malfoy, on the train before their last year in Hogwarts. Pinning her against the door of her compartment, where no one sat inside but eventually her, he grabbed her chin harshly, his long, slender fingers digging into her soft cheeks. Eyes widened, his wand poked her bare throat and he looked upon her with utter hatred, his silver eyes swirling with emotions.
That was the day when he told her that she was unfortunate enough to be his Veela mate. He swore that day, he would resist all his Veela instincts pulling him to her, for he refused to dally with a mudblood. Not knowing how to respond at his admission, she spat in his face and told him she would never associate herself with him. He hexed her then, leaving her bloody and unconscious in her car.
To prove his point, from then on he would bring a different girl to his quarters each night. By then, she had already researched everything she needed to know about this Veela trait. She never expected to feel a growing pain to unfurl from within her, unable to move and breathe, as he plowed into the girl in the other room. She didn't know if he knew how his actions affected his mate, but she knew that if he did, he didn't care and his actions were intentional. How could they not be? He hated her.
Over time, she learned to hide her pain. A few healing and numbing spells, she learned to deal with her fate. If he wasn't going to pursue or force her to be his mate, she rather have that. She didn't want to be his mate, no matter how much her mating calls in her taunted her. Confused her. Gave her unusual dreams. Telling her to be with him.
His friends weren't any different. His friend, Blaise, was more forward from all of them. He never let a chance slip by to sexually harass her. Many times, in Potions, where she was unlucky enough to be his partner, he attempted to slide his hand up her skirt. It got to the point where she had to sit at the farthest edge of her seat, away from him. Before Harry's and Ron's death, she would have shot up from her sit and gave him a good one. A nice punch to the face and then topped it with some painful spells, he'll wish he never touched her. It was funny. They claimed she was a mudblood, no better than the dirt beneath their shoes, and yet they never seemed to tire with her. To taunt her, to touch her.
Malfoy's on and off girlfriend, Pansy, was no better. For some reason, Pansy somehow put into her mind that she was after her Draco. Which was funny, because she did everything she could to get out of his way. To avoid him. And somehow she thought of her as a threat? If anything, Hermione felt bad for the poor, delusional girl. The prat cheated on her more times than she could count, and yet she continued to lay claim to him? To think he loved her? Didn't she realized that the heartless bastard did not, and will not ever, possess the feeling love? He was too dreadful for such beautiful emotion.
Malfoy's other rich friend Theo was the worst of them all. He was always there. Wherever she went, or snuck off to, she could feel him staring at her. Watching her. At first, it bothered her and she tried to ignore it. But when he approached her one day, she felt her heart beat frantically in her chest. Malfoy was with him, leaning against the walls in the hall that lead to the Great Hall. They had her cornered. Not wanting trouble or fueling their insufferable teasing, she waited patiently, clutching her books tightly and trying to hold back a hateful glare. It was always like that. Her fury masked beneath her stoic face. Theo shoved her, dropping her books, and then pulled her by the hair and leaned toward her with a stinging, malicious smirk.
"You always thought you were better than us. Always walking around like you owned everything and everyone admired you. But you're nothing now." He sneered, his hot breath in her ear.
She was used to it. Always being manhandled by one of them. Taunted. Name-called. After numerous incidents, she discovered that if she said nothing, they eventually got bored and went away. So she did that.
She met his eyes calmly. Said nothing.
"Do you know how many of us hate you? Last member of the daft, Golden Trio? Huh?" He continued, tugging her hair harshly, she bit back a yelp threatening to slip. "In fact, we hate you so much, many of us thought many different ways to kill you. We picture it and play it over in our minds, thinking of ways to torture you. To make you feel the worst possible pain without killing you until you wish, no, beg for us to finish you. There are various ways to make someone bleed and hurt, did you know?"
Fear hit her.
He leaned closer, sliding his hands from his hold of her bushy hair to her shoulders and then behind her back to cup her arse, shoving her to him. She could see Malfoy behind him straighten, his body tensing, his face stiff. Emotionless but strained. She thought she might have imagined it, but she saw him wince when Theo began to maul her like some inanimate object. A play thing. His hands sliding everywhere, rubbing her uncomfortably and inappropriately.
"Theo." Malfoy stammered finally, his jaw clenching and unclenching. He stepped closer and pushed him away. "What the bloody hell are you doing?" He demanded stiffly.
Gasping, Hermione took several steps back and fixed her shirt, now unbuttoned three buttons down. She tried to hide her furious blush, her enraged fury. She had to remind herself that she was on the losing side. The side that had no protection. If she did something stupid, they'll find more ways to hurt her. And they would get away with it. The Death Eaters got what they wanted in this world now. In this school run by those monsters.
"What do you think?" Theo smirked nastily, eyeing her up and down as he spoke, undressing her with one look. It felt like insects were crawling all over her body. "I bet no one got a piece of that. Who knows what she hides underneath all those baggy shirts and skirts? Besides, I was only getting a feel." He laughed. "And prove a point."
She felt mortified.
"She's nothing but a frigid bitch." Malfoy snapped, shoving him back. "Come on. If you wanted a feel, a good one, with a real female, I'll send you a sexy Ravenclaw I know your way later."
Hermione didn't know why he didn't just let Theo molest her, she would have assumed he would have enjoyed the show, not be the one to stop it. Instead of questioning his bizarre actions, she went inside the Great Hall and then took a long shower afterwards, cleansing herself from their filth.
No matter how many times, they never seemed to want to leave her alone. She was a constant reminder of Voldemort's attempted downfall. Having no power to defend herself, no friends at her side, no one, she could do nothing.
They had taken her magic.
So instead, she endured. She was horribly outnumbered in the school. Most of her friends were killed after the end of the war with Voldemort's surprise victory. Those who were left behind, Harry's supporters, were allowed to live but were forbidden from using magic ever again. All their wands were confiscated and those who sold them one, were sentenced to immediate death.
Soon, mistreating Mudbloods became to be accepted. There was nothing that aided them from their wrath.
xxxx
She was dragged in the dungeons again. One second she was walking to Transfiguration class and the next, she was hexed with a immobilizing spell. Unable to fight back, even if she wanted to, she was thrown in an empty room, her head slamming into the concrete floor. Moaning in pain, she squinted up to see a group of Slytherin girls smirking down at her. One of them, Daphne, kicked her hard and Hermione yelled in pain. Horrified that she was giving them satisfaction with her reaction to their cruelty, she gritted her teeth together and tried to look unaffected.
It angered them.
"Pansy, what do you want us to do with this Mudblood bitch?" Yelled Daphne.
"Hmm...we brought her here to have a little fun." Pansy hummed, giving her another kick. Hermione bit her inner cheek walls, to keep from howling in pain.
She shot them a hatred glare, and she realized she could not speak. They had put a silencing charm on her, probably so no one would hear her scream for help. Not that anyone would come to her rescue anyway. She wouldn't be surprised if they had a silencing charm on the entire room.
"Do you know why we brought you here, Granger?" Pansy bent down, smiling eerily sweetly at her.
Hermione remained quiet. It wasn't like she could even talk back. Inside her head, she was reciting all her favorite Muggle poetry.
They'll get bored soon. They'll leave me alone soon. Soon.
"Do you?"!" Pansy pressed angrily, pulling out her wand and hexing her again. Hermione felt the back of her head collide with one of the walls, the force almost knocking her out cold. Pansy undid the silencing spell so she could respond.
"N-no." She finally said, the word hard to form through her bloody teeth.
"Daphne, where's your little sister?" Pansy turned, and a short, petite girl sauntered over. She, too, had a cruel smile on her face. Hermione tried not to look too worried. Surely, they won't hex her to the point of death?
And why wouldn't they?
There was nothing stopping them. After full year of torment, death seemed appealing. But she didn't want to die in this dark, dreary room surrounded by Slytherins. She wanted to die honorably, like Harry and Ron did on the battlefield, fighting for justice.
It wasn't fair.
"Did you master it, Astoria?" Pansy asked the pretty girl. Hermione recalled that Malfoy brought her to his room once, one of his many skanks.
"Obviously. I wanted to use it ever since I got it down." Astoria flipped her hair back and moved closer. "Watch and learn girls." She said in a sing-song voice.
Muttering a few words unintelligibly beneath her breath, Hermione waited with sheer panic as the girl recited the spell. Was this it? Was this how she was going to die?
Suddenly, a whole pile of thick, gooey mud rained over her and soaked her. Belching and coughing, she wiped some of the mud that caught in her eyes, looking at them in disbelief.
They squealed in laughter, their eyes mocking, but they weren't done. They were never done.
They stripped her of her clothes, their nails scraping her skin and breaking through, leaving her nude on the cold floor, blood pouring from their assault. And thus commenced their hexing, taking turns.
It was horrible. Agonizing. Humiliating. When they finally had their fill with "torture the Mudblood" activity, they left her, laughing and clapping their hands in triumph. Seconds after they slammed the door shut, her eyes clamped shut and she passed out in her pool of dried blood.
Some time, she didn't know when, she heard the door open and then someone sucking a sharp breath.
One of them returned? Did they not have their fill? Was it Pansy?
She was too bloody tired to open her eyes, too tired to see who picked her up, or where they were taking her. At this point, she didn't care. She was too much in pain to even open a eye lid. Too hurt to fight back.
She accepted her fate.
When will it end?
As soon as she gave defeat, she felt herself being dropped. Were they throwing her over a building? Was she going to fall to her death? Was her suffering really going to end? Although those theories seemed too far-fetched since the person carrying her had no malice in his hold, they were...gentle. Almost embracing, cocooning her in their strong arms.
Instead of greeting a hard ground, instead of departing to join Harry and Ron, she was dropped onto a soft bed. She knew it was her bed, it had the same cotton fresh smell.
What?
"When you hurt, I hurt. I hate this. I hate pretending."
The voice was low, almost a whisper, but she heard it. It was a masculine voice. Said voice began to trail his fingers on her cheek, caressing it softly and gently, she almost wanted to cry. The last time she felt anyone treating her as such, was years ago, she almost forgot how it felt to be cherished.
She didn't understand what the person meant by that, or when he began to heal her. She could hear him, muttering advanced healing spells, spells she read about and is still practicing to master. After what seemed to be hours, she felt her blanket thrown over her shameful nude body, and the man left.
That was months ago.
xxxx
Standing here now, she peered at the rising sun in the distance, wondering who that man was. How he knew where to find her. How he knew the password to her Head's room and why he helped her, when it seemed no one cared for her. She wanted to thank him, but she had a odd feeling that she knew who he was, so she never bothered looking for him. Never bothered finding out who he was, because some time later, she realized, only one other person knew the password of her room.
And she refused to acknowledge he had a soul.
So she forgot.
The last time she had someone care for her was when her parents were still alive. After arriving for her last year of Hogwarts, she was, miraculously, allowed to visit her parent's living in muggle London for Christmas. Not questioning why they actually care about a Mudblood enough to let her see her parents, she felt thrilled for once in her life.
Even Malfoy, who hardly paid any attention to her, noticed her change in mood when she entered their common room.
"Why the hell are you smiling about, Mudblood?" He leered, his legs spread out in the table in front of the fire with a propped open textbook in his lap, his stance screaming arrogance and authority. For such a prat who stuck his dick in anything that had two legs, he was surprisingly a good student and an avid reader. Even she, could not deny it.
Hermione paused at the door, debating whether or not to answer him. He kept glaring at her and she grit her teeth.
"I just received permission to visit my family over the holiday." She forced out, meeting his eyes reluctantly.
He quickly sat up and looked at her in alarm, color draining from his pale face. Rubbing his jaw self-consciously, his expression, just as quickly, returned to hateful one. He didn't give her time to contemplate his odd transformation.
"They gave you permission? They gave you permission!?" He stormed toward her, grabbing her by the shoulders.
"Y-Yes, they did." She replied, her forehead crinkling in confusion as he shook her.
She didn't understand why he cared. As far as she knew, he stayed at Hogwarts during the holidays. His horrible parents were too busy sucking up to Voldemort to have time for their only child, holidays or not. Wouldn't he rather not have her around? She expected him to be celebrating. Or was he so shocked that they gave a Mudblood permission to leave?
How far does his cruelty lie?
Whatever it was, she wasn't going to let him ruin her mood. For the longest time, she finally will get at least a week without running into him and his friends. Nothing. Nothing will ruin this for her.
"You can't go." He burst, stepping back, flinching from touching her "Mudblood" germs.
It was funny, since he always didn't mind hurting her physically and now at the mere touch of her shoulders disgusted him.
"You can't go." Malfoy repeated, clenching his fists and staring at her hard. There was a flicker of panic in his silver eyes and she wondered what his problem was.
Calmly, she took a deep breath before replying, "You can't tell me what to do, Malfoy. I will go."
Draco frowned, gritting his teeth. She could tell that he was trying hard not to spring on her, shake her, hurt her. Why was he restraining himself? Never stopped him before.
"I won't let you go." He suddenly declared viciously, leaning down so he was eye level with her. "I'll find some way to keep you here. Count on that, Mudblood."
"Why? Why would you want me around?" She burst, not caring if she was breaking her own rules to remain nonchalant to their cruelty.
The only string of happiness given to her in such a long time, and he wanted to take it away from her. She won't let him. Not this time. He can't.
"I'm going whether you like it or not!" She glared at him, detestation tinting her strong voice. "I'm sick and tired of you trying to ruin my life! I'm going to see my parents this holiday and that's final!" And with that, she stalked away toward her room, a tiny spirit of confidence, that has been buried within her for a long time, finally awakening.
Before she could celebrate her tiny victory, he snatched her wrist, wrenching her back, she almost lost her footing had he not caught her in time, his hands around her forearms in a tight grip. Swinging her head back up, her hair hitting his face from close contact, she furiously glowered at him.
Draco regarded her silently for a moment, not saying a word. His eyes were dark, silver pools, capturing her in an intense gaze.
"I always liked seeing that fire in you." He finally said, flashing his signature smirk. "I thought it died by now."
"A lot of things in me died." Hermione retorted, hatred in her eyes. "But I have not been broken yet."
"How unfortunate." He said sourly, his hands still locked around her arms. "But still...I won't let you go."
"Why?" She demanded, eyes flashing. "Will you ever be satisfied in hurting me? Ruining my life? Walking all over me? Can I, for once, earn a break from all...this?" Her voice broke with the last word.
Unable to maintain eye contact, her eyes dropped to the floor and she willed herself not to cry. She refused to cry in front of him. He wasn't worth the tears.
Not answering her, he released her, walking back to the couch and plopping on top of it smoothly.
"Fine. Go." Malfoy shrugged, picking his book back up and opening back to the page he left off at. "Just don't blame me if you don't like what you see. I warned you."
Raising her eyebrows, she stood there incredulously for a moment wondering what he meant by "warning" her. And then she remembered that this was Malfoy, he never gave warnings. He just did what he wanted and always got away with it. Not taking his words for granted, she left.
She never guessed that one of the happiest times of her life, the happiest she have been in a long time, would be the worst day of her life.
Upon reaching her parent's home, confused to why they never picked her up when she got off the train, she walked in to a loathsome smell. It smelled like rotten egg's. Year old rotten eggs, to be exact.
"Mom? Dad?" She called, dropping her suitcases. She missed her tiny, cozy home. Nostalgia hit her. The only thing that was missing was the smiles of her dear parents.
She found her mother first. She was in the kitchen, a kitchen knife impaling her back and maggots crawling out of the hole. Her father was in the living room, his body in shreds and a coffee jar still in his blue, broken fingers.
And so she fell to her knees, bawling like a baby. It was the first time she cried so profusely, to the point where she could cry no more.
She never thought they could anything else from her. They took her closest friends, her magic, her freedom, her sanity. And even now, they still found something to destroy and take from her.
That was also the first day she told him she hated him. Told it straight to his face, in front of all his friends. He was so surprised, he forgot to retaliate. To hex her. She never questioned why he didn't, right there in front of his lackeys. It was the perfect opportunity.
Instead, he waited until after classes, in their Head common room to confront her. She walked inside, thinking that maybe he'll leave her alone. But she thought better. He'll never leave her alone. Not after that. His pride and dignity was sullied by her, and he needed to set things right. Lay down the rules.
For a Veela that was supposed to care for his mate, he was shite at being one.
"What the hell is your problem?" He roared, grabbing her from the throat. Her books fell at her feet, startled by his abrupt actions. "How dare you talk to me like that? What makes you think you can say that to me?"
"I don't understand. I was only telling you how I feel." She replied impassively. Her eyes glazed over him, empty and with detachment, as if her mind was in another universe while the shell of her body was on Earth. This way, his words, his actions, could not affect her. It was a coping mechanism she created subconsciously.
Snorting, he said, "How you feel? I don't need you telling me in words how much you hate me."
"I never hated you. I don't hate easily. I dislike, but never hate. Hate is a dark, terrible feeling." She spoke robotically, looking at the space over his shoulder, speaking as if she was in a trance. "But now, you finally made me feel such horrid feeling toward you. I hate you, Draco Malfoy. I wish I never met you. I wish you died in the war instead of Harry and Ron who deserved to live because, unlike you, they aren't cowards."
Bringing up Harry and Ron was a mistake. In an instant, he slammed her against the wall, his eyes flashing with fury. She almost toppled down, but she held herself against the wall with one trembling hand.
"U-Unlike you, they...are kind." She grunted, one eye closed, continuing relentlessly. She just didn't care anymore. "They fight what they believe in. They believe in...a world where everyone's freedom is given to them, regardless of their status in society, their blood, or their family name. They believed in a world where everyone lived in peace. You will never be like them."
Malfoy stared at her, his chest heaving dangerously, a dark glint in his eyes. But he stood listening.
"If they lived, there wouldn't be darkness lurking every corner of this once bright world." She whispered, thinking of her deceased parents. She couldn't even hold a funeral for them.
"There will always be darkness. Stop thinking in fairy tales. Your precious Boy Wonder and the red git aren't saints. Aren't saviors." He sneered, wand raised menacingly.
"I suppose." She only said, not caring.
Her lack of response and casual dismissal irritated him.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" He snapped, stalking closer until his face was inches away. "I always knew you were an emotionless bitch, what broke you?" Tipping her face up with a finger to her chin, he regarded her, the angry glint in his eyes diffusing.
She laughed humorlessly. She couldn't help it.
Malfoy raised a brow, probably thinking she went insane. And maybe she did. Which was sad, the brightest witch of her age lessened to a cold statue, to a pawn that was manipulated with and thrown away when unneeded.
"I am still not broken. There is still one last pillar standing in me. One last crack before I shatter. Can you believe it?" She said, sadness coloring her voice. "But I am close enough to break. So close."
"What brought you close to breaking this time?" He asked, his voice unusually soft.
Her head jerked up and she shoved against, causing him to stumble back in surprise."You know why! Or have you forgotten your helpful warning? You knew my parents were dead! How could you?" She screamed, angry tears stinging her eyes. He continued to stare back at her silently, letting her vent off her anger and frustration. "Did you kill them? You didn't want me to see what kind of murderer you are, was that why? And you have the gall to ask me what broke me! What made me hate you so goddamn much!"
Her voice dropped to a delicate whisper, her eyes drooping low and her body felt tired. Spent.
"I hate you. I hate you so much." Shamefully, she began to cry, tears pouring aggressively down her cheeks.
There was so much she could handle and endure before her emotions had enough. And so she broke.
Malfoy moved to gather her in his arms, and she shouted, "No! Don't touch me!"
She didn't want him to be the one to give her warmth. To embrace her. She wanted Ginny, Harry, Ron, Luna, anyone but him. She never wanted him.
Hastily she tried to pry him away, push him helplessly when he brought her to his chest, his arms wrapping around her waist in what seemed to be a loving embrace.
He was manipulating her mind again, playing with her. Confusing her. The cold-hearted Draco she knew would never willingly touch her, caress her, care that she was hurting unless he was inflicting the pain himself.
"P-Please Just let me be." She begged, watery eyes peering up at his. His arms tightened around her at the sound of her breaking voice, a flash of guilt and regret passing through him. She didn't want to see this side of him.
"I didn't kill your parents. It was Theo." He confessed rigidly, willing her to understand. "It wasn't me."
She shook her head, disbelief in her eyes. "I don't care." She said tiredly.
She have known him long enough to know that he had some part in her parent's murder. Why would he miss an opportunity to take the last thing she cared for?
"Can I go now?" She asked him without looking at him, still trapped in his arms. It hurt her pride to ask him for such a simple thing. Even the most menial tasks she had no control over.
"Are you going to go cry some more in your room?" Malfoy replied, hesitating.
"It wouldn't be the first time." She said between her teeth. What she really wanted to say was, why do you care?
"Then no." He retorted determinedly. Without breaking their eye contact, he flicked his wand and muttered a quick locking spell on her bedroom door. "If you're going to cry pathetically all alone, I rather you stay out here."
She nodded, pushing him away and bending to grab her abandoned books. Sitting on the couch in the common room, she dragged her legs to her chest, resting her chin on her knees.
Ignoring him for the rest of the day, she said nothing when Blaise came in. Said nothing when a sixth year blonde walked in and began to make out with him on the couch in front of her. Said nothing when Malfoy attempted to speak with her, rile her up, taunt her, until he finally gave up and resumed his gazing. Watching her when no one else noticed, but she did and she didn't like it. But she still said nothing.
She just waited. And eventually, she fell asleep on the couch.
She only woke up for a few minutes when she felt someone carrying her and threw her on her bed. It was Malfoy. Cracking her eyes open, she stared at him from the bed.
Picking up a photograph on the carpet around her bed, he eyed the picture impassively.
"How are you going to move on if you surround yourself with these memories?" He asked, throwing a picture of Harry, Ron, and her taken at the Burrow in fifth year.
"If I move on, then it means I'm accepting this reality. I don't want to forget."
"You're bloody stubborn, Granger. Why do you keep fighting? You'll never win." He said, picking up another photo to examine.
"You're right. There is no way I can ever change you and your friend's mind. Your side. You lot are far too cruel and heartless." She said, looking up at the ceiling and waited for him to hex her.
He didn't.
Instead, Draco cracked a smile. A genuine one. If he wasn't such a horrid person, she would have thought he looked quite handsome.
"You actually think you could ever change us? You, the Mudblood?" He smirked, the "real" Draco coming back.
She said nothing but peer up at the ceiling, and then squeezing her eyes shut.
"Do you think you could change me?" He suddenly asked, shifting awkwardly in front of her, standing in the middle of the dark room, his blond hair evident in the dark.
Opening her eyes, she regarded him. Could she change him? How does one change a boy who grew up to accept prejudices? To torment others and act superior to every living thing?
"If I could, I would not bother. You're not worth wasting my time over." She answered truthfully.
Draco looked hurt for a second and then his trademark glower returned. "Watch what you say, Mudblood. You don't want me to get angry and-"
"And hex me? Hurt me? Call me Mudblood? Find some new, creative ways to make me feel insignificant? Worthless?" She interrupted, finishing his statement wearily. "You've done that all. I don't think there is anything left but for you to end my life."
Malfoy pursed his lips, a frown settling on his face. "I may...have hurt you physically, but I am not a cold-blooded murderer. Despite what you might think of me."
Hermione laughed, shaking her head in the pillow. "Physically? You hurt me emotionally, broke me mentally. I am nothing but an empty shell now, Malfoy. There is nothing left for you to destroy."
"Still...I wouldn't kill you." He admitted.
"Why? Because it'll hurt you too if your mate dies?" She fired.
"No, not..."
"Not that it matters." She talked over him. "You already hurt me through your Veela connection. And you don't have to worry, I read about it. If a Veela's mate dies, you'll feel like a missing part of you is permanently missing, but you'll still live on. You see? There is nothing holding you back." And with that, she shot to her feet, and stomped directly toward him.
"Kill me. End me. Do what you always itched to do." She commanded, inching closer to him. "Do it!"
She didn't care how crazy she was being, she could tell from his face that he thought she was becoming loony.
Malfoy tried to step back, but she grabbed the lapels of his robe.
"Look..."He began, irritated, grabbing her wrists to pry them away, but she held down tight.
"DO IT!" She screamed, slapping him.
If there was one way to anger him, it was that. So she slapped him again, but he refused to respond.
And all she could think was...
Why?
Why aren't you responding?
End my sorrows. My pain.
Before she could slap him again, his cheeks red, he grabbed her wrist and shoved her roughly against him, crashing his lips against hers.
Cupping her face, he kissed her violently, pouring all his unsaid feelings into it, then it tampered into something gentle, the wet friction between their lips sliding over each other in a rhythm. She didn't respond at first, but his lips were demanding, wordlessly urging for her response. And so she did.
She blamed it on the Veela connection. On poor judgement. On her deranged mind. On him.
When they separated, he stared at her with slight awe, both breathless.
"I could never kill you." He said hoarsely, his thumb tracing her jaw. His touch was gentle and she wanted to barf.
"The only time I ever ask you for anything, you refuse. I should have known." She smiled sadly. Pushing him away, she returned to her bed.
xxxx
They never spoke of that kiss. It was like it never occurred. She had expected he'd tell all his friends that he kissed the ugly Mudblood, hurt her for that stupid mistake, but he did nothing. Instead, he avoided her even more often. The only time she saw him was when she ran into him in the common room or if he was with his friends when they came over to have fun with her. Other than that, he left her alone.
Which she didn't mind; it was what she wanted. His space came at a good time, too.
It was half way through the year and their Potion's professor decided to switch their partners. Glad to be rid of the Italian as her partner, she was partnered with Anthony Goldstein. Afraid that he would be another one of those boys who made her life hell, he was, surprisingly, quite kind. They did their projects civilly and even had quite a few engaging chats. Soon, they became friends and she began to look forward to their conversations, their interactions in Potions.
Unlike everyone else, he didn't seem to care that she was the number one targeted Mudblood in the school. After many of their library sessions doing homework together, she found herself in a better mood when she came back to her room. Even Malfoy noticed her uppity mood, but she didn't care. As far as she was concerned, he was invisible.
Hermione started to wonder the state of her friendship with Anthony. They were hanging out even outside their classes, not caring about the staring they received or the insults whispered their way.
One day, they were sitting at the back tables in the library when he leaned to kiss her, shocking her.
She was so shocked, in fact, she jerked back before his lips connected with her's.
"Shite. Sorry, Hermione." Anthony quickly apologized, a faint pink coloring his cheeks with embarrassment.
She thought he looked so adorable. Realizing that his intentions were good and he wasn't one of those boys who treated females as objects like Malfoy did, she smiled shyly at him.
This time, she leaned to kiss him, shocking him.
She was happy.
So happy, in fact, she didn't notice the dark aura surrounding Malfoy when she entered their common room that night.
"WHAT DID YOU DO?" He roared, stalking toward her.
Confused and slightly frightened, she started at him blankly. She was more shocked that he was speaking to her than his question, since he haven't said one word to her since their kiss.
"What?" Hermione asked dumbly.
"You heard my question, or have you gone deaf?" Draco snapped, silver eyes narrowing. "I was walking down the hall and suddenly I felt this burning pain in my stomach. It was like I was being hexed from the inside, but I knew better. It was from this Veela connection thing. So I'm going to ask you again, what did you do?"
Hermione recalled the kiss she shared with Anthony and she understood.
"Now you know how I feel." She told him.
Confused, he glowered, "What? What are you on about?"
He was hypocrite, she thought.
"Every time you brought one of your slags in here-"
"What does that have to do with anything?" He interrupted heatedly. "You never complained. What, are you jealous?"
She wanted to laugh. He asked that last question with an eager look. What satisfaction will he even gain if she was?
"I kissed Anthony today." She revealed, bending to remove her slippers, her voice nonchalant and detached.
With interest, she watched his face redden in anger.
"You kissed Goldstein? That blood traitor?" He snarled infuriatingly, his jaw tightening and fists at his sides.
"Yes."
"W-Who would kiss a...a Mudblood like you?" Malfoy spluttered hotly. "Is the bloke that desperate?"
"You kissed me." She pointed out, unemotional.
Malfoy fell silent, gnashing at his lips. He looked like he was trembling with anger. With betrayal.
He had no right.
"You asked me why you randomly felt a burst of pain and I told you. When a Veela and their mate associate with anyone else, outside their bond, this is the result." She explained indifferently. "You're lucky I didn't fuck him, the pain would have been far more severe and it would have left scars." She said, nodding once at him and then left him.
She didn't want to see the pity on his face. The guilt. She didn't want to see him react in any way at the revelation. He should have known from the start that the Veela connection was two-sided.
Even though his pain was no where near what she endured when he was whoring himself around, she still felt joyous to have caused him some pain, no matter how small. She was becoming a sadist.
xxxx
It was nearing the end of the year, graduation in a month, and the school decided to throw a dance. She and Malfoy were supposed to host it and take the first dance.
Not only did he hardly played a role in setting up the dance, he left the common room before she could talk to him. She wanted to tell him that she didn't want to dance with him, so they should just skip that part. It was beneficial to both of them. She loathed him and refused to spend the first part of the dance in humility, and it would save him from dancing with the Mudblood, saving his pride.
With a shrug, she put on her heels and exited the common room to find Anthony in a suit outside. He looked quite handsome, his hair smoothed back. Taking his hand, they walked to the ballroom to join the others.
At first, she didn't want to attend the dance. But it took convincing from Goldstein to ignore everyone and have a good time, with him, as friends. Discovering after their kiss that they rather maintain a friendship and nothing more, Hermione was secretly glad. She was too depressed, too tired and spent to deal with a romantic relationship.
Her dress was made of red silk, fitting her nicely and ending at the bottom of her knees. It was strapless, but nothing too revealing like the way Pansy and her slag friends were wearing. Her dress was a gift from Ginny last year, and she never had any event or time to wear it. Until now.
She saw Malfoy there with his friends, with a Pansy who was dressed in almost nothing, on his arm. Assuming that he forgot that they were supposed to hold the first dance as Heads, she didn't care to remind him. But, even as she tried to ignore him and his friends throughout the night, she could still feel him staring at her. His silver eyes boring holes into her back.
Not once did she give indication to his staring. She just ignored him.
Hermione tried to have a good time at the dance, she really did. But eventually, she couldn't stand the staring. The whispering. The accidental pushing and shoving on the dance floor with Anthony. She could tell he was becoming uncomfortable as well. So when she told him she was calling it a night, she didn't blame him for looking slightly glad, no matter how much he tried to hide it.
Exiting the hall, she rubbed her arms, regretting not bringing a shawl with her. The dark, empty hallways were cold and a cool breeze swept past her as she jogged toward her room.
She was so preoccupied with scolding herself for not bringing a shawl or at least dressing in a long-sleeved dress, she didn't notice him grab her from the waist and pin her against the wall, behind an alcove.
"W-What? Who..." She stuttered, startled, and then her eyes widened in fear when she recognized who grabbed her.
It was Theo.
His eyes were flashing a dark green as he reveled in her fear, ate it up with starved hunger.
"Well, well. Who knew you had such a luscious body hidden underneath those disgusting Griffindor robes?" He drawled lazily, eyes surveying her and lingering at her breasts.
His hot breath was in her neck and she could smell the alcohol. Of course the Slytherins would break the rules and spike the punch. Although she wasn't surprised. Even if she was given her Head position, it was done out of tradition. The female student with the highest grades got the position. And yet, even with her position, no one took her seriously.
Theo grabbed the back of her thighs, snaking his hands underneath her dress and munching it up.
"Get off me!" She screamed, shoving him away only to earn a hard slap.
"No one is going to help you." He leered, kissing down her throat as she unsuccessfully tried to pull away."It's just you and me, Mudblood."
She tried to knee him, but he trapped her legs between his, holding her back against the wall by her throat.
He was right. If someone heard her screams, no one would come to her aid. He was Theo. One of Voldemort's favorite Death Eaters. No one would dare stop him, not if they wanted to be skinned alive first.
He began to pull down her knickers, his other hand massaging her breasts over the red satin, his lips at her ear lobe. She shuddered, praying that he'll stop. That he'll grow bored. That he'll find her too hideous. That he'll remember she was a Mudblood, her blood too dirty for him to rape.
She was going to get raped.
They have taken everything away from her and she thought there was nothing more they could take, destroy and mutilate, nothing left but her life, but she was sorely wrong.
She was still a virgin.
When he began to unbutton his trousers, she closed her eyes tightly, preparing for what is to come. The unpleasant pain. She always imagined her first time would be with the one she loved, not forcibly taken from her by the enemy.
And so she disconnected herself, imagining herself elsewhere.
He pushed her legs apart, not bothering to be gentle, and why should he?
For the first time in her whole life, she prayed that Draco Malfoy would sense her distress through the Veela connection and come for her help. Imagine, right before her rape with one of his best friends, she wishes Malfoy, the king of all her tormentors, to come for her help.
Muffling her mouth with one hand, he situated himself between her legs.
And she waited for the pain to come. The slow tearing, violation in her body.
But it never did.
One second Theo was about to plunge into her, the next, he was sprawled on the floor, blood pouring from his mouth.
Gasping, she felt her heart drop and incredulity dazed her. What just happened?
That was when she saw him.
Draco Malfoy was standing a couple of feet away with the deadliest glare she had ever seen, it was so fierce and piercing, she could almost sense the dark aura surrounding him engulfing her.
Eyes widening, she stood there against the wall, with her ripped dress and disheveled appearance, as she watched him pummel his fists into Theo. She heard the sound of bones breaking, a howling Theo in pain, and she wondered if she was stuck in a dream. Finally, the sounds stopped. Only the sound of her heart pounding and Malfoy's deep breathing was left.
She was afraid to meet his eyes. What was she supposed to say?
Thank you?
It only made sense to thank him for stopping her rapist, but she didn't want to thank him. Not him.
"Why?" She cracked hoarsely, her voice sounding foreign to her.
His head crack up and the angry lines on his face smoothed, his expression softening.
Stop looking at me like that, she wanted to shout.
"Why is it always you?" She whispered sorrowfully, crossing her arms over her chest to hide her exposed breasts. To shelter herself from his gaze. "Why do you pretend to care for me? Care to what happens to me? Why did you stop him? He is a Death Eater. Your friend. What he did was justified, and yet you stopped him. Why?" Wiping the tears that unknowingly ran down her cheeks, she gazed at him questioningly.
Instead of answering, he stalked toward her and she panicked, backing against the wall. Gently and carefully, a contrast to how Theo treated her, he heaved her over his shoulder and began to walk. He stepped over the unconscious Theo.
"It's because of the Veela connection, right?" She pounded on his back, kicking her legs. "You don't want to feel any pain when he rapes me? Is that why?" She asked angrily.
He didn't answer.
"Let me down! Don't touch me!" She screamed. "How dare you! How dare you make me think you actually care what happens to me. I hate you! I hate you for manipulating me and confusing me! I hate you! That will never change! This changes nothing!"
He murmured the password to her room, still not responding, throwing her on the bed.
Quickly, she sat up. She wasn't going to let him get away with this. She refused to let him make her think he was her savior. Her hero. Even if it sounded hypocritical, since she wanted him to save her.
He was no hero. He was a monster. He was heartless. She refused to let him manipulate her into thinking otherwise.
"Why won't you answer me, Malfoy?" She shot up from the bed and blocked him before he exited the room. She didn't want his charity.
You are not good, she wanted to scream at him. Stop acting like one!
"What do you want me to say?" He finally said, his voice low.
"Tell me that I deserved to be raped by Theo! Tell me that what Theo did was right! Tell me how worthless I am and how you should have never stopped him!" She burst, hot tears running down her cheeks. "Tell me how if we didn't share a Veela connection, you would have enjoyed seeing me raped by one of your friends and my virginity taken away!"
Anger flashed his eyes but then subsided. "You don't mean that." He said quietly, tense. "I would have stopped him regardless."
Stop.
Don't say that.
Don't make me...
Don't make me want to like you.
I hate you.
I hate you so much.
"Don't lie."
"I'm not. I-I know I haven't been particularly kind to you, but-"
"Shut up. I don't want to hear it."
He pauses and nods, his silver eyes conveying sympathy. Hesitating, he pulls up one hand and lays it against her cheek. She closes her eyes momentarily and then opens them. There is a regret in his eyes, and it enraged her.
She steps back.
"Stop it."
"Stop what? Hermione-"
"Don't." She spits, not caring if her ripped dress was showing any part of her skin.
Although she held the top of her dress over her breasts. Her bare legs and thighs, on the other hand, was left for him to ogle.
"Don't say my name. You have no right." She said. "Only those I care for can say it and I'll never care for you."
He nods again, aloof. He pulls out his wand and she eyes it warily. How she misses using magic. The last time she held a wand was during the war.
Instead of hexing her, using an unforgivable as he did in the past, he cast a spell to fix her dress.
He was being kind again.
"Stop. Stop trying to show me this side of you." She begged, her voice rising in volume. "I loathe you. Do you understand? No matter how much you try to...to make me think differently, I'll always l-loathe you." She swallowed hard, a lump forming in her own throat.
"Of course." He says, his eyes cast downward.
Stop looking so sad. As if you're affected by my words. How dare you? How dare you try to make me feel guilty? After all you've done to me?
Stop.
"Why did you stop him?" She says again, biting her lip hard enough to draw blood. She shoves him and he catches himself, but does not stop her furious assault. He lets her vent her anger. Standing still with that stoic face. She demands, "Tell me! Tell me and don't say it is because of the damn Veela connection! Don't lie!"
When he doesn't answer, when he doesn't respond to her shoving, her last brink of sanity breaks.
She doesn't want to feel grateful. She doesn't want his momentary kindness. His pity. She wants him to hurt her.
Because hurting her felt normal. It gave her a solid reason to hate him.
So she undresses. She bunched the hem of her fixed dress and removes it, letting it fall to the floor and standing in her bra and knickers.
Draco gapes soundlessly at her. "W-What are you doing? Put your clothes back on!"
And he attempts to leave the room, shying his eyes away, and it made her hate him even more. Hate his attempt to act gallant around her, when he was anything but.
She blocks him.
"You all took everything away from me." She says, grabbing the front of his vest with her fingers, not caring how he was gaping at her state of undress. "Destroyed everything I cared about, my friends, my family...why stop there?"
"Granger-"
She continues. "I just realized there is still one thing you didn't take from me. Didn't destroy. I always assumed that there was nothing left for you to take, but I was wrong." She stepped closer, feeling both disgusted and aroused. The Veela connection always managed to make her feel such way. It made her want him. They have never done anything encourage the Veela bond, but it was there.
"So there! Take me. Hurt me in the only way left possible." Hermione beckoned.
Without waiting for him to answer, she undid the clasp of her bra and discarded it. Just as quickly, she slipped her knickers off, hearing him suck a deep, sharp breath at that motion.
Malfoy didn't budge, casting his eyes away and his face red. "Have you finally gone bonkers, Granger? Put your clothes back on! You don't want this." His voice was low and hoarse, as if he was in actual pain.
He was being proper. A gentlemen.
"What's wrong? Surely you have seen a girl's naked body before?" She huffs. "Why are you acting like a prude? Aren't you supposed to be a Sex God? Why won't you look at me? I am giving you my virginity, willingly. Just like every one of your slags."
He scowls, meeting her eyes. "You're not like them. You're not a slag, don't call yourself that."
She laughs humorlessly and his eyes darkened.
"Have you lost it?" Draco barks, shaking her, her head bobbing. "You almost got raped and now...and now you're asking me to treat you like a whore? I won't do it. I am not a murderer, nor am I a rapist. No matter what you seem to think of me."
"I'm not asking you to rape me. I am asking you to break and destroy the one last thing I have." She said seductively, latching onto him again and began to slide her hands down his chest and to his erection. He sucked in another sharp breath, his eyes fluttering. She could feel his resistance shattering.
Forcing him to look at her, she grabbed his face and kissed him hard, pushing her naked body against his. There was nothing gentle about the kiss. It symbolized their relationship. Hot, fury, and brutal.
She broke the kiss to nip his neck, marking him, exactly how the Veela book she read said. And just like she read, his inner Veela would spring and the mating would commence.
Licking the blood from his neck, she peered up at the blond to find his eyes dilated, desire and lust staining them.
With a low growl, he grabbed her by the waist and threw her on the bed, settling himself on top of her. A spark suddenly ignited between them and she could sense his feelings, as if a link formed between them. It was another side effect the Veela book spoke of.
She could feel her blood boiling, her heart racing, as he ran his hands up and down her body. She undressed him until he was fully bare, ripping his vest open while he unbuttoned his pants and threw it over his shoulders, as she ran her hands down his toned chest. She felt him shudder from her touch.
Their tongues entwined in a battle, her hands fisted in his precious hair while his hand ran up one of her legs. There was nothing passionate in their touches, only possessiveness and a war for control.
His cool hands explored every inch of her body eagerly, caressing and threading her skin. When he sucked one of her breasts, his teeth grazing and harsh, she lets out a reluctant moan, arching toward him and urging him on, their mating instincts leading them. Their actions were not their own. The fueled link between them refused to let her feel disgust, as she did with Theo. Desire and want filled her instead.
And so she escalated things, reaching to grab and claw at his shaft, pumping it between her two hands as he moaned loudly.
"Fuck." He groaned in her ear, his hips jerking. "Fuck. Do...Do you really want me to do this? Fuck you dry and break your innocence? Is this what you want, Granger?" He growled, biting back another moan as she continued to relentlessly cup and knead him.
"Break me, dammit." She pants viciously, opening her legs wider to give him better access. It was too late anyway. She read about it. The Veela in him would not resist. His scents were going to enhance and he will not be able to stop.
To prove her point, his eyes darkened to the point where she could not spot his pupil.
He fingered her clit, tasting her juices with the tips of his fingers and she felt him harden against her hands. He was aroused and nothing but the mind of a starved Veela for his mate remained.
He pinned her, his hands clutching both her thighs, and forced her to look at him. She does, watching with half-amazement and half-curiosity as he plunges deep within her, breaking her virgin walls. Blood forms between her legs as he increases his movement, circling inside her until she couldn't help but squeeze her eyes shut with pain.
"Look at me." He commands, breathless as he moved on top of her. "Look at me when I fuck you. This is what you wanted Granger. Isn't this what you wanted?" He bellows, snatching her chin to make her look at him.
She meets his eyes, biting her lips so she wouldn't scream in midst of their passion.
He continues to pound into her, grunting and breathing heavily on top of her. She wraps her legs around his waist and pulls him deeper, reveling in the pain and the tearing inside her.
"Urgh, fuck." He pulls out of her only to push back in, filling her to the hilt and spilling his hot seed into her.
She scratches at his back, drawing blood and crying out as they hit their climax.
Like a china cup with many cracks, many imperfections, she shattered.
She broke.
xxxx
They never spoke of that incident. It was rash and quick, a mistake. But it was hard to forget. For some reason, after their one night of passion, the Veela connection between them grew stronger. Sometimes she could feel emotions running through her that was not her own. Her dreams became more vivid and occurred more, most which centered around Malfoy. Thankfully, none of them were erotic.
He never spoke to her. As before, he avoided her and she avoided him. And she realized that she preferred it that way. No one knew of that night, which told her that he didn't tell anyone about fucking the Mudblood. Taking her innocence and then showing off his success. He just kept quiet, and resumed bringing a different girl each night. And it made her hate him more.
She almost forgot about that night until one day, Pansy and her friends decided to have one more round of fun with her before graduation.
This time, instead of dragging her to the dungeons, they found it unnecessary. Instead, they cornered her in the halls and surrounded her. Thinking that they'll hex her with one of their ridiculous spells and then leave her alone, she didn't expect them to use an Unforgivable this time.
They used crucio over and over, until she felt her insides rip to shreds. She tried not to howl in pain, but it hurt.
It hurt.
After what seemed like forever, they left her. There, on the floor, in a pool of her blood. She tried to sit up but felt a shot of pain between her legs, shocking her. She was bleeding excessively.
One hour later, she was dragged to a nurse and bandaged up.
That was the day where she realized that she was wrong again. That there was always more for them to take from her. Another thing they could destroy. If only she could have predicted it.
Sullenly, she was released and she limped back to her room, trying with all her might not to cry. And then she realized, even if she did want to sob, she could not because all her tears were dried up.
As soon as she entered the Head's common room, she found Malfoy inside pacing worriedly, his hands folded behind his back. When she walked in, his eyes lightened in relief and she felt sickened.
"Where have you been?" Draco demanded and she realized that it was really late, past curfew
Stop acting like you care.
"Congratulations. Your baby is dead." She told him and went to to her room before she could witness another round of his fake expressions, locking it.
She cried that night again, and when she couldn't cry anymore, she curled at the end of her bed and whimpered. She thought there wasn't anything left they could take from her, but still, somehow, they found another way to break her.
It was that night she finally gave up.
xxxx
And now, standing at the edge and peering down, she swallowed down her fear of heights. There were many ways she could have turned around and changed her life, fixed it. But not in this world. This wasn't the world she and Harry and Ron fought for. It was dark and too cruel, she ached to be free from it. How lucky Harry and Ron are to never live in it. How she managed until now, she didn't know.
Standing at the edge, she realized that she was almost there. Almost to her freedom, until she felt him behind her, the Veela instinct notifying her.
Without turning she said, "What do you want? Are you here to witness my downfall? To tell the world how the brightest witch have finally conceded defeat?"
"No, I'm here to stop you." He said determinedly, standing couple of feet behind her, his voice almost lost in the wind.
Don't. Don't do this. Stop trying to make me stay.
Make me want to live.
"Why? So I can live another day wondering how else will you guys hurt me? Wondering where my next scar will be? Wondering what new foul word you guys will call me? Wondering if I won't feel any pain when you sleep with another slag? Wondering if it is worth the pain? I don't think so."
She looked down and tried to estimate how high up she was. If she'd die quickly. If the pain of her fall, the short and quick pain, will be worth the years of pain she endured.
Yes.
Yes, it will be.
"You're stronger than that." Draco pleaded, stuffing his hands in his pockets. She could hear the panic in his voice. "If you are still standing after all that, doesn't that mean you have best us?"
"No, it means i'm allowing myself to be your daily amusement." Hermione twisted around to glare at him. How was that going to convince her to continue living on? This wasn't a game. "The plaything that walked around for them to kick and spit at." She laughed, her voice empty and lifeless, staring up at the blue sky.
It was time for her first class. She wanted to laugh again. She haven't missed a single class since Harry's and Ron's deaths. How funny it is that the first time she does, she was doing it to kill herself.
"Hermione, please, get down. You don't want to do this..."
There was that concern in his voice. It tugged her heart and shredded her apart.
"Don't say my name." She closed her eyes, "Please don't say it."
"You can't just..."
"You're just worried about the Veela thing." She said softly, opening her eyes and blinking away her tears. "I'm sorry, but the amount of pain I endured, it is only fair if you feel how I felt. How empty, how agonizing my life was. Did you know that when a Veela loses its mate, it would feel like a missing part of yourself is gone permanently?"
"I don't care about that!" Malfoy snapped, drawing near. "Don't do this Granger. Don't bloody do this."
"Why? Give me one reason!"
"I don't know, okay?" Draco says in frustration, inching closer when she couldn't see. "I just know that you deserve to live. I don't want you to die. You told me once that I am a coward. Then what are you? Killing yourself is the perfect example of a coward, and you are not one, Granger. You're a fighter." He steps even closer, his eyes wary.
"Don't come near!" She warned, inching closer to the edge.
He quickly stopped, hands out carefully, as if he was dealing with a highly unstable person. It wasn't far from the truth
"Sure you don't care. Nothing you ever have shown toward me showed you cared." She said sarcastically. "That's how selfish you are. You hate me and I you. You cherish the days you cause me pain. You enjoy watching me cry. You are an awful person. You show me that you've changed, but you never helped me. Never stopped them when they hurt me. Just watched. Why should I remain living? There is nothing left for me to fight for. There is nothing left for me. No one will care if I die, at least in the after life i'll be with those I love."
"You're wrong. there is still someone who will care if you die."
"Who?"
"Me."
She laughed, shaking her head in disagreement.
"You? And tell me, why should I stay living for you? Why should I stay in this horrible world and live another day, all just for you?"
He swallowed hard, his eyes pleading.
"Because I love you."
She smiled sadly at him and turned back around. "I don't believe it. And even if it was true, it's not enough. It will never be enough, not coming from you."
And she jumped, finally free.
xxxx
Suicide sometimes proceeds from cowardice, but not always;
for cowardice sometimes prevents it;
since as many live because they are afraid to die, as die because they are afraid to live
-Charles Caleb Colten
xxxx
A/N: I had a dream about this and wanted to write it in words. The dream I had was much sadder and Hermione face way more hardships before she gave up, but I thought I wrote it in a way that was already depressing enough. This was my first dramione fic by the way.
The only questions left after the end are: Did Draco truly love her? Why did he still treat her horribly if he did? What changed his mind? Why did he help her so many times, but never stopped others from inflicting her pain?
I'll leave that for you to figure out.
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People do not die from Suicide. They die due to sadness. (Anonymous)
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fin.