A/N New chapter! I really hope I am able to keep an update schedule when school starts. I do have six chapters down but I hate proofreading which takes a while. If anyone wants to beta, just PM me. My grammar is horrible, and yes, you will find many mistakes.
xo, A
Disclaimer: I do not own the HP series, if I did Dramione would be a thing. Love you Ron, but you just don't make the cut.
[You were dancing in your tube socks in out hotel room]
Dancing
Drying off her tears that had seared themselves to her skin, leaving her skin feeling dry, and irritated, Hermione got up, and decided that it was late enough to ensure that no one else would be in the back kitchen, only open to the scullery maids, being to lowly for even Leona to step foot in there unless she had too.
Going through her mound of what others would call "rubbish", which actually contained all her belongings she had ever had, it was nothing but a stash of stolen trinkets which included, a candle, a signet ring she had found on the ground when she was very young, and though she never found out which family it belonged to, she found comfort when she put it on her finger, and decided to keep it. She also saw the quill she had stolen from the king when she was cleaning his room once. It was an extravagant quill, with detailed wooden center, and a sharp pointed edge. The feathers were the softest she had ever felt and when she rubbed it against her cheek, it felt like nothing she had ever touched before. Picking up the candle, it's wick has clearly been lit many times before she spared a glance at the object underneath. Her most prized possession. Once she was surprised she had been able to hide from Leona for so long.
It was a book of fairytales, but not like Babbity Rabbity and the Cackling Stump or The Fountain of Fair Fortune from the Tales of Beedle the Bard. (Which Hermione had found in the highly stocked library that was bigger than Hermione ever thought one room could be when she was younger). This book contains muggle fairy tales. There were stories about princesses and evil queens, however in these stories the evil characters seemed to win, in the most gruesome way. But on the first page of the beautifully made book was a note. This note was what kept Hermione going, what stopped her from leaving the castle every time she felt like she had nothing better to do than to give up. And though the note may be complete and utter rubbish, it was from her mother. A mother who she barely remembers, and the last thing she told Hermione was, "no matter what, this place will keep you safe, run to the back entrance, and your destiny will find you." But Hermione knew that this, this wasn't her destiny. SHe wasn't on this world to clean and brush the horses, and to clean the kitchens. But the note, the note kept her going.
…
Dredging up the giant hill that separated the stables from the castle, Hermione's already worn shoes got covered in mud that seeped through to her tattered stockings. Though she was too tired to climb up the rest of the way, and her aching bones were praying for respite, another grumble in her stomach moved her further on, right until she reached the tiny wooden door, with a rusty handle. A stark contrast to the almost always shiny front doors, and any door that wasn't that one.
Dragging herself into the large kitchen, Hermione finally granted herself s a small luxury by pulling her wand out of her apron, and lighting the candle wit her wand. She didn't want to light it on her way up, as someone would have seen ehr through the windows, and she already knew the way like the back of her hand.
Being as silent as possible, Hermione went to the cupboard right next to the drawer, since it was so small and unnoticeable, she was able to hide bread that would go unnoticed, but the other cooks, as it was either stale, or burnt. Grabbing the biggest hunk of bread in there, which was very luckily barely burnt, but still deemed not perfect enough for any of the "royals" to eat, but was very stale and hard. But for Hermione she was so hungry anything would work for her that night. Seating herself on one of the few stools in the large room, and chowing down on her bread, Hermione let one silent tear of shame roll down her cheeks.
What had she become? Some sort of beggar, barely living, barely existing. When she was a kid, and would be made to do work around the castle, such as sweeping or dusting, she would enjoy it. It gave her the opportunity to teach herself how to read and how to do magic through the books she had. Her mother, thankfully had left her her wand when she passed away, and after finding out she had one, the head maid, before Leona granted her the luxury of the ability to keep it with a few limitations, but it was more than many of the other maids had, Some of them not even knowing if they possess the power or not. (Though most likely not, Hermione thought, as they would have surely seen some sign of it before reaching adulthood).
The other books she read transported her to another world where the ugly old maids became the shining princesses swept up in a horse, and being young girl, those dreams followed Hermione, and she waited everyday with bated breath hoping every guy she came across would be her Prince Charming. But he never came. And Hermione had to learn that if anything was going to save her, it would be herself. When she went to sleep starvin no one was going to being her food, only she could give herself that. When she burnt herself through the fire, only her own healing spells could cure her. But when she felt alone, and had no company, no one to tell her that everything was alright, and that she would be fine, even she couldn't convince herself that that lie was true.
Absorbed in her thoughts, Hermione didn't notice the slight creak of the door opening, and a flicker of light illuminating a skin almost as pale as the first snow. Had it been any other day, a day where Leona hadn't almost beaten her down until she couldn't get up, for a day that hadn't been clouded with grief she had to conceal in front of all others, than she would have seen him coming to her. Wouldn't gotten her wand out, despite the restrictions on her wand for self-defence spells. (In case she ever felt the need to break away from her betters, she would have to resort to physical combat) She would have been ready. Ready for when a big and strong arm wrapped around her waist. And the other wrapped around her mouth, and her scream came a little too late.
…
He was born an only child, whose parents had died briefly after his daughter was born. And his wife had been an orphan with no siblings when they had met. They had understood each other in ways no one else could. It was love at first sight, and while his heart ached for her to be here with him, he smiled at the thought of beautiful wife, when he heard a soft, "Good evening father." and Danforth Granger smiled up at the joy of his life, and the only good thing in it, his daughter.
Perdita Granger peeked around the corner of her father's, study, and slowly came in, seating herself in the chair n the other side of his long desk, with parchments lying about, a quill, and pot of ink lying forgotten near his left hand.
"Ah, do not have to be so formal child, come here and give me a hug." Perdita smiled and walked over to her father around the desk, wrapping her arms around him. Her hug could take away a few years from his almost making him forget about all the problems weighing down on his shoulders. It made him happy to know that soon, she would be in safe hands, but saddened to know that he wouldn't be the only man in her life anymore.
She sat back down in the chair on the other side of his desk, once again, placing her chin on her elbows, and her elbows on the desk. The gesture could be considered disrespectful if done in the company of anyone else, but Danforth never instilled those ridiculous rules in his daughter, if she wanted to be relaxed in his company, so be it.
"What ails you precious daughter, for I'm sure you haven't come here to just pay a visit to your old man, as saddened as I am to admit, you are growing up too fast right in front of my eyes." He smiled up at his daughter, glad to have been blessed by having her in his life. After his wife died, nothing seemed to really make him happy until she came along into his life.
Perdita was like washing away his sins, cleansing him. Each time she laughed he could feel a bucket of water being thrown over his head, a cold bucket of water, and it made him feel as though he was being dissolved of his sins. Sins that he could ran away from but never hid rom. His conscious weighed heavily on him, and despite the many years that have passed since, he could never forget the grave mistake that almost brought him to his end.
"Can I not visit my father when I want to. You have been so busy with everything that I feel as though I never get the chance to just talk to you, much like I did when I was younger." Danforth chuckled, happy that his little girl still remembered him. In all the excitement of the marriage, he though she may have got caught up in it at all. The Malfoys were a prestigious family, and to be tied up in them, well, it would be well worth the madness.
"Of course child, now humor an old man, and tell me, how did dress shopping with Lady Malfoy go, I hear she has quite the eye for the new fashions these days." Danforth smiled as he looked at his daughter, all grown up and getting ready to be married. Oh how the time flies.
…
Stopping her scream, Hermione realized that, with pang in her heart that no one would come to rescue her And if someone had her her ruckus they will only walk away, blaming her for coming out by herself at this time. She tried, insteadm to kick this person who had carried her outside the kitchen, and back outside, running through the mud, as quick as he could, the one hand around her waist holding her to him, and his quick rapid, movements keeping them both from sinking into the mud.
Rushing them both into the woods, her captor dropped her on the forest floor, in an area where the trees gave them an almost full reprieve from the storm that plagued them that night. The strange man knelt on the ground, with his head in his knees. Hermione quickly stood up and began to slowly make her way away from er captor, not caring that she was going to get wet, as she was already completely soaked from her previous adventures.
"No, stop please." The man looked up at her with pleading eyes, and only then did she notice that he had the most unique eyes. She had never seen silver eyes before. And they were certainly the most striking eyes she and ever seen. Not that she had seen the eyes of many men. They sparkled eve in the dead of night, and looked at her with an expression she had never seen before.
"And why, should I listen to you, I have never seen you before, and you just up and snatched me from where I was, you have no right to command me." She tilted her chin up for good measure, and waited for him to reply, even crossing her arms around her soaked chest.
Draco looked up in surprise. He had assumed that she was some sort of maid in the castle, for he was in what he was sure was a kitchen, and only the maids usually knew where that was, so she must have been a miad. And he had seen some of the maids, following him around once in awhile while he made his way around the castle. And to not know who was visiting the castle? It made him wonder if this girl was lying, or if she was just a bandit, who had broken in. But it seemed very unlikely that such a tiny girl like her could be a bandit.
"Of course, miss, I didn't catch your name did I? How rude of me!" He finished this, by standing up, and coming closer to her, standing only a few wand lengths away but still making her feel as though he was imposing himself on her. "I'm very sorry to say, but you have done anything to show me that I can reveal my name to you. For how do I know that you will not try and report my name to the guards, and try to have me escorted out of the premises."
This made Draco rake his eyes over her, if she could be escorted out, surely she doesn't work there, for the guards must have instilled some sort of protection around those who either live or work im the castle. She did have the look of a runaway, Her hair, which had seemed lovely before still held te striking color, but was now drenched from the rain, and had mud and dirt stuck to some strands, making it look as though she washed her head in some mud, and let it dry like that before running about in the rain. Her dress, if it could be called that, clearly had no undercoat, or petticoat that many of the women he had come across had on. (Not that he was doing anything unholy with them, merely his friends they were) It was a drab, and had maybe once been white, but noe was too small, and caked with dirt. A layer of it hiding the natural color completely. It was strained around her breasts, showing those off as well. On top of it was a half apron, tied in the back in a bow that was so tight, it must have never been taken off after being tied. It was a drab brown that clashed with her soulful eyes.
Her feet however, was a different story she had pm shoes that were mangled beyond recognition, holes were growing larger around her big toe, showing off her ripped stockings that had torn around the same area. They were black and flat, and in perfect condition may have been nice, but these were nowhere near there. The girl squirmed, clearly noticed that his eyes were on her, scrutinising her person.
She stepped back harshly, and looked him in the eyes, saying "I do not appreciate a young man like you thinking he can look at me like that." Draco's eyes sparkled with mirth, she may not have the best appearance, and his aristocratic upbringing made him want to sneer, and throw insults, but he found that she was a little spitfire. And he was going to spend his night roaming the grounds anyway hoping to get drenched in the rain, but this seemed to be more entertaining. "Ah but of course Miss, I do hope you accept my apology." Bowing down, and offering his hand to her, like a proper man would when courting a lady, he looked up at her slightly, thrown off a little by her shocked expression. And when a tear began to flow, he stood up, and looked at her worriedly.
He had assumed that this girl had belonged to a wealthy family, for she most certainly looked nothing like a peasant, and that she had assumed a commoners clothes, and run away from her life. Assuming she must have had the same doubts about the wealthy life, like him, Draco assumed it was okay to treat like a Lady, for she must have received the same treatment before she sentenced herself to the depressing of life of breaking into others homes in the middle of night for the slightest scrap of food she could find.
"Um, sorry, I didn't mean to make you sad." Draco poured out the words as they rushed into his mouth, and ran off back into the rain, t shocked and surprised to say anything. He had never seen a girl cry, even one of his best friends Pansy Parkinson, never showed any sadness or fear in front of him, and seeing this girl cry made him feel weird. It was feeling he never wanted to experience again, but also made him want more. It made him want to cry. But Malfoys never cried.
