Through the Eyes of the Innocent
"Get rid of it!" Draco Malfoy said angrily. His icy grey eyes were now ablaze with anger and hatred.
"No!" Hermione Granger retorted. She was about to add a reason why before a hand shot through the air and landed on her left cheek. She stumbled sideways and fell face first onto the green velvet couch in the Head Boy and Girls' common room. She looked at Draco with as much loathing as she could while she clutched her left cheek.
Draco Malfoy looked at her with a you-knew-you-had-it-coming face. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked at her, an eyebrow raised. Hermione opened her mouth to speak but Draco cut her off.
"No." He said. His voice giving no trace of emotion. It was neutral and cold. "This conversation is over. You're getting rid of it and that's final. You are not to mention of this matter or conversation to anyone." He walked over to Hermione and pulled her up by the hair. He turned her face so that she was looking at him. "You're a smart girl, Hermione." He said as he stroked Hermione's cheek with his left hand. "You know what's best for you. And I know that you would do well to follow what I say." He threw her back on the sofa, turned on his heel and walked out of the portrait hole.
Hermione pulled herself together and fixed herself on a sitting position on the sofa. She looked down at her stomach and thought of Draco's words. You know what's best for you. And I know that you would do well to follow what I say. She looked up while trying to suppress the tears that were threatening to leak out of the side of her eyes. "He's right." She whispered to herself. After weeks of trying to convince herself that she was right and he was not, she finally gave in and accepted the truth. "I'm sorry."
I didn't understand at all what they always fought about. But I did know one thing; I wished they would resolve the matter already. I couldn't stand it whenever they fought. Was I supposed to grow up in an environment of hatred and loathing?
I hear my mother talk to me at night, sometimes. Telling me things about her, my father and what she expected I would be. I would gladly listen to her voice and wait, as her gentle sweet accent would put me to sleep. I usually awoke with a little smile on my face, knowing that I would be a day nearer to seeing my mother's soft brown eyes, my father's sleeked back blond hair, and everything else that she would describe to me.
The moment that I found out about my existence, I could never describe how happy I was. I would even hear my mother tell me how she couldn't wait for me. Those really made me happy and look forward to the day that I would open my eyes and see my parents. That wasn't meant to be though.
My mother and father had the biggest fight lately. I never really heard my mum talk back to my dad. That night, she did. I heard a stinging slap land on my mother's cheek and I cried. I didn't know why my father and mother fought a lot. Now, I guess I do.
After they fought, I heard a door closing. My father must have left mum and me alone. Mum was crying… I could hear her soft sobbing. Then, she talked to me again. She told me that dad was right… And then, she said sorry. That was the last time she ever talked to me.
A few days later, just after waking up, I heard mum panting, as if she was running. Then, I heard her knocking on a door. A heavy wooden door from the sound of it. After that, she started talking to someone. I didn't know whom she was talking to. All I know is that she was crying while talking. After her sobbing, my mom drank something and I felt my life slowly leave me. I didn't know why she didn't want me. I desperately wanted to know what I did wrong. I guess the fault was mine. I never should have lived.
I do remember that a few days before she found out about me, she was very happy and so was dad. After she did find out about my existence, she started crying and fighting with my father. I guess I was never really meant to be born.
I now know that the fault was entirely my own. When God asked me if I wanted to be with you, I said yes. I shouldn't have. My mother wouldn't have gone through so much pain and unhappiness if it weren't for me. She would never have had a fight with dad id it weren't for me. Still, I wish they had given me a chance to live so that I could make them happy… so that I could have paid for all the unhappiness I gave them before I came to be.
The moment I knew of my existence, a tiny light burned inside of me. Giving me warmth and joy. Whenever I heard my mum and dad fight, the light gave me hope that all was going to be better. The day that my mother decided not to have me though, the light that was my only inspiration, the only thing that made me happy when they were not was slowly extinguished. Nothing gave me hope anymore. I used to live in a warm place where I could feel my mother's love for me. Now, I spend my days and the rest of it, in a dark place with no hope…no love…no life.
Author's note: I'm still writing "Rewritten History" but I had this stuck inside my head so I had to write it and share it with you. I worked really hard on this so please read and review my work. As always, constructive criticism is most welcome. Italics starting from underneath the line are seen from the child's point of view.