Chapter 1: The Black Crow

A/N: Hello, dear readers! Thank you for giving this story a chance! I've got struck by the inspiration to write a Dramoine story - which I've been wanting to, for a very long time, but didn't have the idea to. But I suddenly got struck by this idea that I just have to scribble (or rather, type) and TADA, my first chapter! I promise that I will try to make this enjoyable for everyone to read!

WARNING: This would be AU and characters will be OOC.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Please do leave a review to tell me your thoughts!

Hope you enjoy!

~WY

The black crow came again.

Its beady eyes focused on honey brown ones, flapping its black, sleek wings wildly before cawing in a haunted tone, still facing her. The noise it made caused a small whimper from the other side of the room, making the teen sigh. She shuffled over to the little girl, Amy, whose leg had draped over the thin blanket and opened her eyes halfway for a second, before she closed them, tossing over to the other side of the bed as she smacked her lips dreamily. The elder girl chuckled softly as she pulled the blanket from under the girl before covering her with the thin cloth and smoothing down her soft brown hair gently.

The black crow repeated its caw, this time louder, its eyes boring into hers. Another soft cry escaped from the younger girl's mouth, causing irk to form in the other, as she murmured comforting words to her little sister.

Hermione Granger growled and gave it an unwelcome glance, which it returned by flying off, before she walked and settled back onto her wooden chair, glad to be rid of the pest as her fingers traced the rim of her cup absentmindedly. Her food had ran out - again. Yes, it was not the first time, and she was pretty sure that unless she married some rich bloke who wouldn't mind her background - which was near to impossible and a thought she swore quietly to herself, that she would never entertain again - it would not be the last.

She was a woman. An independent one. A man's help wouldn't be needed - definitely not. She turned her nose up higher, indignantly, at that thought before she took a sip of coffee from her cup. She would have to go hunting again.

She brought her arm forward, leaning the side of her face on it as she finished the bitter liquid; she couldn't afford such luxuries these days, it was because of the good hunt she had a few days ago that caused her to splurge in terms of food and drinks - and she regretted it now. Too late though. Sighing to herself, she pushed her chair out, rinsed the cup before turning it upside down and placing it next to the basin without much thought.

"Well, it certainly is a nice, early morning," she muttered to herself as she grabbed her bow and quiver holding her hand-made arrows before pushing the door open, stepping out to the frosty night. She rubbed her arms as she blew out a misty breath, watching them swirl for a moment before she made her way to the forest just behind her cottage.

Her heavy boots made a crunching sound as they stepped on dry leaves; the moon was half hidden within the clouds as it followed her with every step she took; the crickets chriped cheerily, which annoyed her to no end; the leaves on the trees rustled around her, a few of them falling on her head which she brushed away offhandedly.

It was then, did she hear a rustle among the bushes. Snapping her head over to the direction of the sound, she edged towards it stealthily, holding her breath, afraid of scaring her prey. She stopped a few meters away from the bushes. Positioning her bow in front of her, she grabbed her arrow from the quiver which she carried, before swiftly nocking it on the string of the bow.

Holding her bow firmly, she pulled back, resting the arrow up her cheekbone, near her eye as she aimed for the spot where the animal will most likely leap out of, the creaking sound of it reminding her of her much-needed oiling she had promised it of a few days ago.

A white rabbit leaped out of the greenery in a high jump and in a second, the arrow flew straight ahead, hitting it right on the target. She froze for a moment, her bow still poised, before she relaxed, bringing the bow to her side as she walked over to the prey and swung it over her shoulder.

Another stir was heard from the other part of the forest, where there was no trail, startled her. She raised her bow up promptly, dropping her hunt, her guts clenching with uneasiness as she considered the possibility of alerting the landlord of this area that she was poaching on his property. Mr. Parkinson - and his family, of course - were not a good horde to anger. They would certainly make her life hell more than it already was if they found out that a commoner like her was hunting illegally on their area. She pondered over for a moment, before dismissing the idea. The prestigious family, would not want to come out here, unless it was for hunting, after all.

Then who - or what - could it be? A black crow burst out from the dark regions that she was concentrating on, suddenly, the leaves flying about wildly and catching her by surprise, making her squeal loudly.

In a moment of rashness, she pulled her arrow on the bow and aimed at the escaping target, her cheeks flushed red from the shock she received from the scare, before the sensible voice in her mind yelled at her not to; it would most probably be a decision she would regret. Fancy shooting a crow down just because she was angry, she admonished herself. She shook her head disapprovingly at the earlier injudicious decision as she lowered her bow.

She waited for a few more minutes for more sounds alerting her of preys, however, there were none. She seemed done for the day. Picking up the dropped rabbit from earlier, she huffed grouchily, about to head back when the the other part of the forest seemed to beckon her towards it, seeming more tempting than the other times she had been here before.

She hesitated for a moment - just a moment - before deciding that she could just either find more food, or just get lost which she was quite sure she could find her way back, at least, by evening. Amy couldn't be without food for more than a day, after all. She was still a growing child, and unlike her, she needed more nutrients.

She took a tentative step away from the trail, her hands sweeping up all the stones she could find before she walked into the deeper parts of the forest, dropping a stone every few steps as she went. After what seemed like hours of doing so, she decided it was time to head back - there were no food for her to find here, either. She refused, simply refused, to allow disappointment to wash over her. This is nothing, Hermione, she comforted herself. It's not like you to be so emotional over such a small matter.

A gruff voice suddenly stopped her in her tracks. Creeping quietly to duck and seek cover under the thickest bush she could find quickly, she peered through the greenery, hindered and irritated slightly by the vines as she watched two pairs of heavy boots crunching over the dry leaves where she had once been.

"Then, Draco, what're you going to do about it?"

She heard a light chuckle which reverberated throughout the forest. "Well, do you think I'm going to let him off? He made abhorrent claims while I'm gone... Claiming the parts of lands belonging to the Malfoys which he thought would be his - my, what an obnoxious father-in-law I have."

Her eyes widened at that statement: Malfoys. They were always known to be merciless and cold, and to be uncaring of what they would have to do to achieve their aims. The voice answering to Draco sounded rather young, though deep, like he was only in his early twenties.

According to the papers, Draco was the only son of the Malfoys and held power: A lot of power. Malfoys were filthy rich too; she stifled a sigh, if only… But this wasn't important; wasn't he dead? As reported on the newspaper, at least. A dent formed between her brows as she contemplated the likelihood of what could have really happened.

"But you do have to take in mind that he is-" The speaker suddenly got cut off short. Hermione made a slight move among the leaves, trying to get a clearer view of what had occurred and made a slight ripple among the them. She froze.

She watched as a pair of heavy boots suddenly shifted direction and faced her.

"I don't care whether he is my father-in-law, or my ancestor..." The voice got closer, steel-hard, as she swallowed heavily, beads of sweat clinging on her forehead while she watched the brown leather shoes approaching her slowly, as if stalking its prey. Her eyes clenched shut of her own accord as she held her breath unconsciously, begging for him not to notice her here. It could only mean death, and Amy could certainly not survive on her own - at least, not yet.

"I just know that I want him gone. I have no use for him - not anymore."

A surprised and horrified gasp from the other man. "B-But..."

There was a short pause, and the friction of the rough surfaces of notes against each other as they were being counted, before she heard the latter replied, "Yes, Draco, I will get it done."

Hermione bit her lip to keep herself from gasping out loud before she opened her eyes slowly, her fists tightening making imprints of her nails on the inside of her palms. The expensive looking boots had already stopped right before her hiding place and her heart thudded madly as she took in a dark smoky scent that seemed deeply... alluring to her. She shook her head in an attempt to clear the haze that seemed to be slowly creeping over her mind. A knee dropped down in front of her in a kneeling position smoothly. Oh, shit, shit, shit-

"Draco...? Is there something wrong?"

"Oh, no, of course not, Peter," Draco replied, his voice seeming to get lower and throatier. "I thought I saw a rabbit nearby and would like to practice my... hunting skills. Why don't you go ahead first? I am sure that Mr. Pettigrew would be happy to know of this."

She swallowed the lump that wouldn't be gone at her throat: She was dead. She was going to die, die in this secluded forest where no one would ever find her. She heard the shaky voice of Peter agreeing to that and the clumsy footsteps faltering away within seconds. She wanted to scream for him to take her too, bring her to escape; but she knew that from what she heard of the Pettigrews, they were cowards - and money grubbers. Perhaps, not all of them, but she quickly stamped the agreement that Peter definitely was one.

Draco smirked darkly when the sound of the footsteps disappeared completely.

"Now, now, why don't you come out of the bushes so we can talk?" Without waiting for a response, a pale hand darted into the bushes, fingers curling around her wrist and gripping it hard before hauling poor Hermione out and throwing her roughly on the soft green grass.

A/N: Well, that is the end of chapter one! I wish it had turned out fine and I really hope you guys like it. Please do leave a review to tell me your thoughts. Constructive criticism is welcome - and always will be!

~WY