WARNING: DARK THEMES/CONTENT
A thousand stars shimmered in the night sky, casting their glow onto treeless hills, snow capped fields and rivers painted with splashes of ice. The snow lay especially thick on the handsome cottage situated amidst this dazzling display of nature. A cheery fire blazed in its hearth, offsetting the rather gloomy black furniture within. It was a hunter's lodge, made with no consideration for a lady - no less a queen, but for Hermione, a prison was a prison, whether it be a handsome castle or a bleak cottage in the middle of nowhere.
"My lady, may I bring you some wine?"
The manservant disappears as I nod, my eyes straining to adjust to the bright yellow glow.
Three days have passed since my capture, but Draco is nowhere to be seen. When I first discovered his absence, I felt immensely relieved, but as the days tick by, with no sign of him, I find myself becoming increasingly agitated, the dread of his arrival weighing upon me like a jagged rock.
I fidget with the jewel encrusted sleeve of my emerald gown, as the lethargy of doing nothing sets in. While a part of me hopes he has tired of this game, I am no fool - men like Draco do not forgive, nor do they forget.
I had expected his indomitable rage to spill over the minute he had me alone, but not a single word crossed his lips; his eyes, however, told a different story, and I could tell that he was holding onto his anger as if it were a precious trinket, to be unveiled at the right moment.
I am shaken from my thoughts, as the manservant scuttles in, depositing a decanter of wine on the table next to me. I haven't bothered learning his name - he may appear harmless, but I know he is here as my jailer. A bulky, awkward man, he says nothing, but I sense his discomfort - there is no honor in holding a woman prisoner.
As the clock chimes twelve, I pour a glass for myself, my gaze fixed on the falling snow as it casts its shadow over the world outside.
How much longer will I be here? I wonder, as a wave of drowsiness sweeps over me, and I find myself drifting into a listless slumber.
I barely register the shuffling of steps near the door, the crunch of boots on wood, the slow deliberate steps that make their way upstairs, only to come down again.
Instead, I dream of darkness, and broken horses that whimper my name. But nothing is as real as a pair of callused hands wrapping themselves around my throat. I find myself struggling, as they put more and more pressure, choking me bit by bit.
I can't breathe!
I bolt upright, terror clawing at my throat, as I realize I am no longer dreaming.
"Hello there, princess."
My body stills, as my breath hitches in my throat.
Prison had not been kind to Draco - ugly scars lined his arms, some barely healed; His handsome face had grown gaunt, and in the dim light, I could make out the outline of reddish blue bruises along his jaw. But it had not taken away his hauteur, nor the aura of ruthless nobility that defined him. Instead, tough, rugged strength was carved in every feature of his aristocratic face, from his stormy grey eyes to the arrogant jut of his chin.
"No welcoming kiss for your husband?" he teases, his hands scraping across my neck.
I push him away, desperate to escape his embrace.
"I am no longer your wife!" I growl, turning my face away from his.
"Oh but you are princess - no law in the land will uphold that ridiculous piece of paper my father gave you, though I must admit, I am offended you thought you would be rid of me so easily."
"No true lord will eve-"
"But your faithful lords are dead, Hermione," he whispers, his lips brushing against my ear.
Numb with shock, I barely protest as his hands unpin my hair, threading through my tangled curls.
"I always hated when you wore your hair up."
"Did you k-k-kill-"
"All of them," he purrs, his eyes dark with malice.
I feel bile rise up my throat.
"They betrayed me you see, they betrayed their king."
The word strikes a chord of fear deep within me.
"You are no king," I say bravely, but my mind is reeling, unable to comprehend the weight of his words.
No. Gods please.
A hollow laugh erupts from his throat - an unnatural sound that makes me flinch.
"My father is dead," he says quietly, "and so are his allies. All except one."
His eyes pierce through mine, and for a moment I see a flicker of grief in their shadowy depths. But it is gone so quickly, I think I must have imagined it.
"Now comes the question of what to do with you - my beautiful, brave, treacherous wife," he spits the last two words out, as if they were poison to his tongue.
"You forced me to marry you, my loyalty was never yours to command,"I say quietly, looking away from him.
"You took a vow princess - a sacred oath, do you know what the price is of breaking such a promise?"
His hand rests on my breast, and I blanch at the contact.
"Bring it in," he commands, flicking his fingers as he abruptly moves away from me.
A burly man scurries into the room, holding a large object wrapped in silk. He deposits it on top of the fireplace, and upon Draco's signal, bows and leaves the room.
My body tenses as he moves towards the object, my mind conjuring up horrific images of what lies under.
I take a sharp intake of breath, as he flicks the silk away, revealing a gilded frame with a portrait of a girl in a splendid crimson gown.
Me.
"Do you like it?" he says conversationally.
I gaze at him in confusion, as a lazy smile stretches across his face.
"It's beautiful - isn't it?"
His sudden change of mood catches me unaware, and I stand there, frozen, my eyes fixed on the painting.
"Beautiful - but incomplete," he says finally, his panther-like eyes resting upon me.
With the heat of the fire waning, I wrap my arms tighter around myself. Squinting through the dark, I see the anomaly - adorned in lush silks, the girl in the painting is wearing only half a necklace - as if the painter fell asleep mid-stroke.
An ominous silence fills the room, interspersed with the sound of thunder, giving the scene an apocalyptic quality that makes the hairs on my neck stand up.
"Do you ever think of that night?" he says finally, his voice soft.
"Never," I say, turning my gaze away from him.
Liar.
"I think of it every night, of what a fool I was, a love-sick mongrel, ready to give my life for the woman I loved, ready to kill for a kingdom for us."
A muscle leaps in his jaw as his eyes glitter ominously in the dark.
"I learnt too late that even little birds have claws. So this time, i'm going to make sure they're properly clipped."
I back away from him, as he prowls towards me.
"Bring her in," he commands, his eyes fixed on mine.
I look in confusion towards the door, as a young girl is tossed onto the floor. Dread twists in my gut as I watch the guard drag her to the chair near the fireplace.
"What is the meaning of this?" I say, my jaw clenching in anger.
"Why I thought you'd appreciate me bringing someone from home."
My breath catches in my throat as I make out a mop of dark hair and freckles.
Harriet.
I rush towards her, just as a pair of strong arms encircle my waist, pulling me backwards. I struggle against him, but he crushes my body, so that I am trapped in his iron grip.
"Why is s-s-she…"
"Let's wake her up, shall we?" he whispers, nodding to the guard.
The burly man shakes her tiny form, and she awakens with a gasp of terror.
"P-p-please don't hurt m-me," she chokes out, her eyes brimming with tears.
"Let her go!" I scream, something deep inside me twisting into knots.
She turns towards me, and our eyes meet for one brief terrible moment - before a glint of silver slices through the dark, and I know even before her body crumples like a rag doll, that it is too late.
"YOU BASTARD! YOU K-K-KILLED…" I break down into hysterical sobs, pushing against my captor, in a desperate bid to get to Harriet. To hold her, to say sorry, to tell her she was more a friend than a housemaid.
"We're not done yet princess," he growls, pushing me to the wall. My body slackens against the wood, a vicious pain ripping through my chest as I gaze dumbly at the pool of crimson red that gathers around my friend.
I am faintly aware of the guard marching away, of being carried into the armchair at the end of the room, a thick shawl being placed on my shoulders. It is as if the world has ended, but I am still alive, my treacherous heart still beating, even as it collapses within itself.
"Hermione," the voice is gentle, but firm.
I tilt my head up to see Draco motioning towards the portrait, but I cannot understand why. It is only when moonlight floods the room that it dawns on me - my half finished necklace is one ruby richer, painted in a deep red shade that makes my stomach heave.
I bury my head in my hands, willing myself to wake up from this nightmare.
"The necklace isn't complete yet," he says, as thunder cracks against the cottage, railing against the monster within its confines.
"It will be a reminder of your betrayal, and lies. If you move against me, this is the price you will pay."
"You're a monster," I say half-sobbing, as the guilt of Harriet's death weighs upon me.
"Yes, little bird, I'm a monster, and you'd do well to remember it," he says, stripping off his cloak with slow deliberation.
My heart stills.
"Enough of this, we're going upstairs."
"I'm not going anywhere, you bas-" I scream as his hands wrap around my throat.
"Scream as much as you want princess, but I'll make an obedient wife of you yet."
He throws me over his shoulder, as I kick, struggle and rail against him. But I am no match for him, and it is with ease that he deposits me in the dimly lit bedchamber.
I lie paralyzed with fear, as he strips off his shirt, revealing a back littered with ugly scars. He casts an appraising glance at me, his eyes ablaze with an unknown emotion.
"Take off your clothes."
I gaze at him blankly.
"W-w-what?
I try getting up, but he looms over me, his powerful frame towering over my petite body.
"Hermione, don't make me hurt you," the words are almost a plea, and the restraint in them makes me tremble.
"Draco, please," I whisper, as he pushes me onto the bed. I shut my eyes, hoping against hope that someone will come for me. I imagine father shattering the door, as Harry sweeps in, both fighting side by side, to destroy this man who is more nightmare than flesh.
But there is nothing but the faint rustling of leaves echoing through a world that has lost all hope.
His hands sweep over me, unlacing the back of my dress, till it pools uselessly to the floor. I clamp my eyes shut, as his hands roam over my breasts, slowly making their way downwards.
"You are exquisite," he says, before his lips cover mine in a hard, punishing kiss.
I struggle for breath as he deepens the kiss, and I push against his chest in panic, but he pins my hands above my head, continuing his assault on my body.
"I hate you," the words spill like poison from my lips.
For a moment he stills.
"I know," he says finally, "but it doesn't matter. You're my wife, and you're mine," he says harshly, wedging his leg between my knees, till I am exposed to him.
"I've dreamed of this, dreamed of you…" he says, as his mouth closes over my nipple, while his other hand finds its way inside me. I tense at the intrusion, but he continues his onslaught, his arousal rubbing against my thigh.
Gripping my thighs, he positions himself near my entrance, probing lightly, gently, almost as if we were lovers, even as I struggle to escape. His eyes blaze through the darkness as he goes deeper and deeper, burying himself within me in short, frantic thrusts, until with one forceful motion, he drives his entire length inside me.
"It hurts," I whimper, as he thrusts into me, again and again, till I am raw with pain and senseless with grief; grief for Harriet, for the remains of my innocence which scatter like dust into the dark night.
When it is over, we are both silent. The minutes stretch into hours, and I find myself drifting into a listless slumber, shrinking away from the body next to me.
I dream of mother, waiting for me with mince pies and butterbeer, of Harry, riding with me in the forest, father calling out my name…
"Hermione!"
I wake with a start, only to find myself ensconced in Draco's arms.
The soft morning light shines upon his features, and it is hard to believe that underneath that angelic exterior lies an ugliness that mars everything it touches.
"Good morning little bird, we ride for Vayloth in an hour."
I stiffen in his arms, as he traces his hands over my breasts, pulling me closer.
"I will never forgive you for last night," I say softly, as his lips brush against mine.
"You left me to die in a rotting cell, yet here you are, alive and well - so i'd say we're about even," he says, a cold finality in his voice.
"Know that whatever you do, I will never love you, you may force my body, but you will never have my soul, nor my heart," I say quietly.
"I will have everything, every piece of you, whether you wish it or not," he says, with sudden violence, shoving his hands into my hair, "your body is mine, your soul is mine, and so is your heart."
I push against him as he bites into my neck, sucking painfully till a redness begins to swell underneath, "You are my wife - and if i have to tear the world apart to make you love me, by the gods, I will do it."
And with that, I am on my back, tears in my eyes, as he ravages my mouth. My body tenses, as i feel his hardness against my leg.
Not again. Please.
But we are interrupted by a knock on the door.
"Master - the rider from the North has arrived," a burly voice announces.
Cursing, Draco moves away from me.
"I'll be back little bird," and with that he rolls away from me, leaving me alone with a despair that runs so deep, that not even tears dare wash it away.