Disclaimer: I don't own Harry, would have settled for a nice Draco.
review? BTW this is my first fic so please be nice.
*Hermione's POV*
It's Christmas Eve.
Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place is lit up by Fred and George's new inventions, baubles that zoom all over the place that are filled with light. It doesn't help that they grow bigger every time a couple snogs under the mistletoe, and finally explode into fireworks when we complete the Weasley tradition of kissing your loved one to promise a happy year when the clock strikes twelve.
Seriously, I can't stand them. Maybe it's because I don't have someone, since Ron and I broke up after two months. He kept trying to control my life, deciding who I should spend time with. Hell, even my visits with Harry were limited to thrice a week when we were together. Finally, I detonated, and we officially split… after a horrible shouting match. We haven't got back together since, and I certainly don't miss the relationship, but we're far on the road to rebuilding our friendship.
The air is thick with music and dancing people, all celebrating Christmas and the arrival of another year. If I'm being honest with myself, which I haven't been lately, I don't think I'm really in the mood to celebrate. Harry isn't, too, like me, he's simply standing with his back to the wall, occasionally smiling and nodding when someone in the crowd calls out to him.
He turns to look at me. "Bit wearing, isn't it?" he sighs, grinning adorably while running his hands through his hair. I smile briefly at him before scanning the crowd in hope of spotting Ron and Ginny, who supposedly went to get some drinks.
I hope I can get out of this blasted party and to the warmth and softness of my own four-poster upstairs soon.
"Oh good, Ron's back."
Harry's eyes light up at my words, and search eagerly through the crowd to catch a glimpse of Ginny. A month after our break-up, I cried and envied what they have, and asked myself why Ron and I couldn't have that. But now I know the answer.
Ron and I are not fit for each other. I love and cherish my independence, while Ron enjoys the feeling of control he has over me. Prizing my freedom over Ron, I told him so, completely and honestly. I told him that he could not control me, and… we broke up.
Anyway. Away from this painful topic. I'm thinking too much. Away from the point.
I twist the glass beads of my necklace absentmindedly as I watch Ron and Ginny fight their way through the crowd. It really is a beautiful thing, gold and clear crystal beads hanging on a thin silver chain. I have worn it since the night it arrived on my dresser the first Christmas after The Battle of Hogwarts, not to mention the terribly precious first edition of Hogwarts: A History that came on the Christmas after.
I have tried and failed to find out who has been sending me these things. Locked up in my room, I used countless revealing spells over and over again, but the person was very clever in handling these gifts. According to my research, the person has removed all traces of the person's own magical signature, making it virtually impossible to find out this person's identity.
Damnit, Ron is coming. I must stop dwelling on these thoughts and tuck them away into a dark alcove in the back of my mind.
Ron blows his hair out of his eyes and hands me a cup. In the darkness of the room, it looks like there's Firewhisky in it. I narrow my eyes at him. "Ronald Bilius Weasley, I thought I told you to get me Butterbeer?"
"This is Butterbeer, Hermione!"
Looking suspiciously at him, I examine my glass warily. He's right, it is Butterbeer, although at first glance, it seems a few shades darker. Lifting the glass to my nose, I take a sniff. It smells like Butterbeer all right, although I sense something enticing and dark underneath it.
Hmm, maybe one drink could do no harm. It's not like there's poison in it or anything.
I take a swig. "Fine," I say grumpily. Ron grins.
Suddenly, a light, heady sensation takes over me. I feel as though I'm floating on air. I'm the happiest person in the world…why?
I look around and see Ron, still grinning.
Something connects.
I feel an odd sense of satisfaction, mingling with a sort of…longing in my stomach. As if making Ron happy is all I have to do in the world. I smile back at him giddily.
A flash of satisfaction crosses his face before disappearing, but I don't stop to ponder its meaning, because Ron is already dragging me away across the dance floor, towards the staircase. I follow him blindly, and the longing in my stomach is growing. We pause before his room door.
He puts his hands on my shoulders.
"First of all," he says, "I don't want to see you alone with any other man, except me and Harry, but you may only see him once a week. The rest of the time you will spend with me, and obey everything I tell you to do. Is that a deal?"
I only smile and nod obediently, his words filtering through my brain. A strange sense of determination takes over me, and I will obey his orders, cost what it may.
A slice of absolutely savage triumph passes Ron's features, and he pulls me into his room.
