Authors Note: Hey readers, thanks so much for giving this story a chance. I will do my very best to update as much as I possibly can and overall, I just hope you enjoy it.
Summary: A story where the roles are reversed from the very beginning. Hermione is the rich, highly adored pureblood daughter of Lucius Malfoy, servant and Death eater to Lord Voldemort. Draco Granger is the muggle-born bookworm, who just so happens to be 1/3 of The Gryffindor Trio. What challenges will they be faced with during the struggle for power? Will they find love and acceptance in each other along the way?
WARNING. RATED M: Some parts are of this story are not for the faint of heart. It contains coarse language, strong violence, and some intense sexual scenes (consensual and nonconsensual.) Please proceed carefully.
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Harry Potter Books.
Hermione's POV:
BAM!
The previous loud commotion causes me to groan from underneath the distorted array of sheets.
BAM...BAM!
Coming to the conclusion that sleep is unlikely at this time, I begin to stir upon the four post mahogany bed.
BAM!
"Are you fucking kidding me?" I, Hermione Malfoy growl, heaving myself from my comfortable position in bed; I direct my eyesight towards the sound, which seems to be coming from just outside my private room. Of course. It's not possible for me to get any type of sleep around here. Seizing my robe and wrapping it firmly around my small waist, I make haste to discover what could possibly be making such chaos inside Malfoy Manor.
I move swiftly to the door that connects my bedroom to my own personal sitting room, and open it. Nothing. I continue on to the next large door, which leads out into the hallway, and open it revealing a scene I wish that I had stayed in bed for. I try to swallow the lump in my throat as I watch it unfold.
My chocolate brown eyes widen as I take in the sight of my father, Lucius Malfoy, repeatedly striking one of the many family house elves to the point where blood is visibly seen. The sticky, thick consistency covers the walls, floors, and even my father's pale, white skin as he uses his walking stick to pummel the life from our servant. I feel a tasteless bile rise to my throat and I fear I might be sick as I watch the sick, twisted grin on his face as he continues.
A sight like this shouldn't concern me so much since I have witnessed this brutality most of my life however, I can't help but feel my heart break somewhat for the creature. Of course this small bit of compassion has nothing whatsoever to do with the treatment of house elves. Rubbish. I could give two shits about some dumb house elf, I say to myself, looking down on the scene.
I just happen to be the richest, most sought after girl throughout all the pureblood families. My beauty and good name have been paraded around smart family matches since my existence had even been known. I, of course was taught the traditional ways and prejudices that all purebloods held since ancient times, so I could honestly careless about a struggling house elves rights.
Yet, looking down upon the burdened creature in front of me, I'm fighting the tears pricking at my eyes. I know what it's like to be on the other end of father's hatred. One small, round tear skids down my cheek as I try not to recall all the countless beatings I've received from him. I roughly wipe the tear from my cheek scolding myself. No Hermione. You know Malfoy's don't show emotion in public. Just don't let him see you cry. No weaknesses.
I know what he's doing to this helpless house elf is wrong, but I continue to watch; my teeth punctured deeply in my bottom lip.
Suddenly, father stops the attacks and makes swift eye contact with me. Just as quickly his attention is back on the cowering figure below him. "Next time you mess up my breakfast, it will be the last thing you do. Do you understand, filth?" He snarls gritting his teeth so harshly; I fear they will break to pieces. The house elf nods wildly, her body trembling as she tends to the smashed dishes on the floor.
My heart jumps in my chest, as he turns towards me like the situation never happened, and flashes his show-stopping smile. "Ah, there's my princess. How did you sleep?" He asks, curtly. Princess; His little pet name for me. I loathe that name. He only uses it when he wants something from me; something he usually has to take by force. Stop. I can't think about this. The pain is too strong.
The warmth his smile holds might fool some people, but I can see straight through it.
"Just well father, thank you." I respond, trying to fill my voice with the confidence I'm lacking. To my horror, his eyes fill with that glint of malice that I have come to know time and time again, and I prepare myself for the impact. A hard cold hand swiftly collides with my left cheek, knocking my face to the side. My eyes begin to water as the icy metallic taste of blood fills my mouth.
"What, you don't ask how I slept you ungrateful little whore?" He growls wrapping his boney hand around my wrist, and pulling me towards him.
He's looking for any sign of weakness: an apology. This is something that no Malfoy will ever do. If I don't apologize, I get beaten. If I do apologize, I get beaten. No matter which I chose, I'm going to suffer simply for the reason of being alive. It's a known fact that Father was expecting a son to be born, an heir to follow in his footsteps and serve the Dark Lord. Instead, he got me and so he likes to take out that small frustration by beating the ever-loving shit out of me. It's my fault that he didn't get a son, and I am going to endure it until the day I die.
He flings me to the ground, towering over me with hate in his eyes. "I'll teach you to show me some respect." I see his perfectly polished black shoe moving slightly backwards before it changes direction, moving towards me. It makes severe contact with my stomach once…then again. And again until I lose count of how many kicks I've received. I clutch my middle in pain as I begin coughing up blood. I lay my head back against the stone floor, now having a perfect view of the corridor leading to this one. There stands my mother, making direct eye contact with me. She dips her finger in her glass of alcohol stirring slightly, before downing its entire contents in one gulp. I had stopped wishing for her help a long time ago because all she seems to be good for is drinking her feelings away. I can't remember a time in my life where I hadn't seen her drinking. Being denied the constant craving for her love as a child, I have come to realize that she cares about the same for me as she does for her liver. Considering how much she drinks, you can assume that's nothing. Keeping that contact, I let one tear fall across my cheek before I close my eyes tightly, waiting for the next blow.
Draco's Point of View:
"Draco sweetie, please hurry up! You're going to miss the train." Mother calls to me, as I do the finishing touches to my packing.
"I'll be down in a minute mother." I respond, pushing open my bedroom door just a touch as I stick my head out.
I turn my attention back to the vacant space, which is my room. With the walls bare of their usual muggle posters, and the bed lacking blankets, a familiar emptiness settles through me. It's that time of year again and just thinking about it makes me slightly ill. Today I leave my quiet and simple muggle lifestyle once again, to board the train that will take me to my sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Don't get me wrong I love Hogwarts. However, when your best friend is Harry Potter, the boy who lived, the one who saved everyone from the Dark Lord, you tend to have a lot on your mind. It just so happens that I, Draco Granger, am part of Gryffindor's Golden Trio. It includes me a muggle-born, Harry (of course) a half-blood, and Ron Weasley who is part of one of the poorer, yet more accepting pureblooded families. Sure, being Harry Potter's best friend I get a lot of attention from girls at school and I'm definitely NOT complaining on that part, but I worry about the future.
I can't help but worry for Harry and his decision to fight against Voldemort. I have all these terrible thoughts and questions rushing through my mind.
When will this attack take place?
What if we are unprepared?
What if something bad happens to me?
Or worse.
What if something happens to Harry…?
I can't help but feel this tiny idea harboring into my subconscious. Was all of this worth the possibility loosing my best friend?
I realize how selfish I sound but I just can't seem to imagine a life without him here with me.
As I slam my trunk shut snapping the latches closed, I shoot a glace back at my empty room once more before closing the door.
A/N: So that's just a little introduction into what both of them are living with. I know that Hermione has it worse than Draco but I want it that way to fit the personality I'm giving them. What did you think? Let me know! The next chapter will be up soon.