Dont worry about Draco, review peoples. Hehe
Ahh whoever is the fucking person who keeps sending me reviews with that 'constructive critisism' shit, please, go away. And, I dont care that you dont like that Draco was nicer in my story. So go screw sheep or somn for all I care. Hmmm another loooooong day.
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1 and a Half Year Later
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Hermione was now out of Hogwarts, for about a year. She sat alone, in the window seat of the dingy apartment that she lived in. She didnt even look up as she heard the door open into the room, the front door.
'Hermione, do you want to go out to dinner tonight?' she heard a voice say. He tried to hard to make her happy. He loved her so much. All he wanted was for her to love him, and be happy. He always knew that he wouldnt be as good, as loved.
'No, Gustof. I think Im just going to stay here, write a few letters,' Hermione said glumly. Gustof stepped over to her.
'Are you happy here, Hermione? Do you like it? Ive done my best!' Gustof said emotionally, trying to get her to even look at him. She looked at him pensively. Here she was, in this strange city, in this strange country. Berlin was no place for an 18 year old English girl, who had hopes and dreams back her own country. She was here, knowing little German, which made it so difficult to live.
'Yes, Gustof,' Hermione said plainly, blinking once. Gustof eyed her suspiciously, and patted her arm. She shuddered at his touch, but yet she stayed with him. Perhaps it was because he was the only thing she had left of Draco. Often at night, she would ponder if Draco still was wearing her necklace she had given him. Then she would cry herself to sleep.
During the day, Hermione would stay in the shabby apartment while Gustof worked at the textile mill. She didnt work. She just stayed there, day after day, trying to watch the television. Hermione watched German soap operas, but she couldnt understand a word of it. Most of the time, she would curl up in the windowseat overlooking Berlin, and she would just cry her eyes out. She hated Germany. She was sick of the people, sick of the strangeness, sick of the sadistic ways. She was sick of her life.
When Gustof was at work, Hermione had almost had enough. She walked to the bathroom, and closed the door gently, her hands lingering on the white engraved wood. Decrepid, just like her life. Once had been an elaborate carving, with with time and ware, it grew to be sad, unkept. Unloved. Hermione violently opened the medicine cabinet, and took out a knife. This was the very knife that Draco had taken from Harrys room that night that he tried to ruin it. He had given it to Hermione to keep it safe. She had kept it.
Hermione clutched the knife, her whole body shaking, her heart full of anger and sadness. She slowly brought it to her wrist, and started to press down.
'Now you finally have won, Harry Potter. You have Draco, and you will have my soul, you have stolen my being.'
She gritted her teeth as she pressed further, breaking the skin, forcing the thick, red blood out into the open. Hermione closed her eyes, and sliced the other wrist. She felt the warm, oozing blood flowing out of her body. It was only a matter of time before Hermione collapsed. It was only a matter of time before her soul was released from the pain and torture of her own life.
A knock was at the door, out in the kitchen. No one was there to answer the door.
'Hermione! I have been looking for you for so long! Please, Im sorry for leaving you!' a familiar voice sounded from outside. Gustof walked up the stairs to his apartment, right as this was happening.
He exhaled.
'Draco.'
Ahh whoever is the fucking person who keeps sending me reviews with that 'constructive critisism' shit, please, go away. And, I dont care that you dont like that Draco was nicer in my story. So go screw sheep or somn for all I care. Hmmm another loooooong day.
************
1 and a Half Year Later
************
Hermione was now out of Hogwarts, for about a year. She sat alone, in the window seat of the dingy apartment that she lived in. She didnt even look up as she heard the door open into the room, the front door.
'Hermione, do you want to go out to dinner tonight?' she heard a voice say. He tried to hard to make her happy. He loved her so much. All he wanted was for her to love him, and be happy. He always knew that he wouldnt be as good, as loved.
'No, Gustof. I think Im just going to stay here, write a few letters,' Hermione said glumly. Gustof stepped over to her.
'Are you happy here, Hermione? Do you like it? Ive done my best!' Gustof said emotionally, trying to get her to even look at him. She looked at him pensively. Here she was, in this strange city, in this strange country. Berlin was no place for an 18 year old English girl, who had hopes and dreams back her own country. She was here, knowing little German, which made it so difficult to live.
'Yes, Gustof,' Hermione said plainly, blinking once. Gustof eyed her suspiciously, and patted her arm. She shuddered at his touch, but yet she stayed with him. Perhaps it was because he was the only thing she had left of Draco. Often at night, she would ponder if Draco still was wearing her necklace she had given him. Then she would cry herself to sleep.
During the day, Hermione would stay in the shabby apartment while Gustof worked at the textile mill. She didnt work. She just stayed there, day after day, trying to watch the television. Hermione watched German soap operas, but she couldnt understand a word of it. Most of the time, she would curl up in the windowseat overlooking Berlin, and she would just cry her eyes out. She hated Germany. She was sick of the people, sick of the strangeness, sick of the sadistic ways. She was sick of her life.
When Gustof was at work, Hermione had almost had enough. She walked to the bathroom, and closed the door gently, her hands lingering on the white engraved wood. Decrepid, just like her life. Once had been an elaborate carving, with with time and ware, it grew to be sad, unkept. Unloved. Hermione violently opened the medicine cabinet, and took out a knife. This was the very knife that Draco had taken from Harrys room that night that he tried to ruin it. He had given it to Hermione to keep it safe. She had kept it.
Hermione clutched the knife, her whole body shaking, her heart full of anger and sadness. She slowly brought it to her wrist, and started to press down.
'Now you finally have won, Harry Potter. You have Draco, and you will have my soul, you have stolen my being.'
She gritted her teeth as she pressed further, breaking the skin, forcing the thick, red blood out into the open. Hermione closed her eyes, and sliced the other wrist. She felt the warm, oozing blood flowing out of her body. It was only a matter of time before Hermione collapsed. It was only a matter of time before her soul was released from the pain and torture of her own life.
A knock was at the door, out in the kitchen. No one was there to answer the door.
'Hermione! I have been looking for you for so long! Please, Im sorry for leaving you!' a familiar voice sounded from outside. Gustof walked up the stairs to his apartment, right as this was happening.
He exhaled.
'Draco.'