Read Me -
Disclamer: These characters (the lovely Hermione and the devilishly good
looking Draco) do not belong to me, but the ingenius J. K. Rowlings and
persistant Warner Brothers Company, only because WB will sue me (for the
love of the moon goddess Selene, the sue "innocent" children) for not
insisting this disclaimer is placed, informing everybody (who already knows
Harry Potter is a trademark of Warner Brothers), that HP certainly does.
Even though the real owner of this book series belongs to the true
sorceress of words J.K Rowlings. But all the other crappy stuff belongs to
me! Enjoy and don't sue.
Chapter Four - To Our Tragedies
H.G. POV -
Pancake. Pancake. Pancake. Hmmm. That divine smell of the most delicious breakfast meal on the face of the earth. And I smell it. Somewhere.
Like a bloody bloodhound, I followed the sugary smell of maple syrup and melting butter to the kitchen. Follow the kitchen. Still in my imfamous overlarged pajamas, a gift from Ron (probably forgot my birthday, and gave me his pajamas as his "present." I have great friends), I was in the shock of my life when I saw . . .
Draco Malfoy in a "Kiss The Cook" apron making pancakes! Making bloody pancakes that didn't look like burnt crap that I made.
That feeling of fainting right there and then in the kitchen was stabbing me in the back. But I was too damn hungry to faint, plus the pancakes smell edible. Why waste it? Well, that look on Draco's face was timeless, never in my life would I guess that the Slytherin Prince knew how to cook.
"Draco, dear. Knowing you, I wouldn't even dare come near those pancakes, but that uncontrollable hunger is killing me. So can I please, please have one?"
Here I am, reduced to begging like an idiot fish just for food.
Pathetic, ain't it?
"Hermione, dear. You're awake, I'm so glad. After you went in a fever, last night, I thought I'd lose you forever." After his profound confession of his absoulute worry over me, I laughed, I didn't know why, but I had to destroy the silence going between us since we were rather uncomfortable with his little declaration. Yet, it was like the silence still remained, the tenseness was still there. Until . . .
"Sorry, Hermione, dear. I was going to offer some pancakes, but I don't think you need pancakes. What I think you need is a diet. Leave the eating to those who can afford it."
"I am not fat!"
The barrier of the void of comfort shattered, and the peace restored. For now.
With that smug look on his face, I wanted to kill him, but the Dragon had what I wanted, so why not bribe him.
"Okay, Malfoy. I'll give you five galleons for one pancake, plus the syrup and butter for 15 sickles."
"No, way. I don't need money, I got plenty. Just follow the instructions on the apron and you get it for free."
Kiss the Cook? He wants me to kiss the cook. Fine I'll follow the instructions for instant pancake. Once I faced him, still with that smug and triumphant look on his face, I gave him his "kiss" with flour smothered all over his face, making him look paler than he already is. Quickly I dived for the pancake, like a shark and his prey.
And off I ran, leaving a floured "pancake" Draco and his real pancakes outwitted by the au pair once again. Until. . .
Bam! Wam! Sam!
A irritated Draco Malfoy still in his "Kiss the Cook" apron, tapping his irritated foot and crossing his irritated arms. For goodness sake, the apron screamed "irritated mad man."
"Excuse me, miss. But you forgot to pay your fee." With delicate hands, he cupped my face into a kiss, no matter how powdery, it was still one of the renowned Draco kisses.
Was this the way love between friends were supposed to be? Did that promise to love him (as a friend) became this intense that I actually enjoy his kisses? I was falling deeper and deeper in this little bunny hole, and I didn't even know it.
D.M. POV -
Her irresistable lips seemed sweeter than usual, not refering to the syrup, it was as if she meant the kiss. Like she loved me. That would be impossible, but I didn't hate the idea, actually I loved it.
Which scared me terribly.
And that's why I stopped abruptly, facing a suprised Hermione. I stared, with a face that showed utter disgust, which was the farthest thing from what I was feeling, but I could let my icy guard down when I needed it the most.
"This is wrong. I want you so much, that's why I hate you, Granger." The scared expression on her beautifully sculpted face almost killed me, it showed sadness, it showed anger, but most of all, it showed pain.
From the beginning I started this little charade to intimidate and hurt Potter and his friends, the only thing I wanted was to laugh proudly at her face once I seduced and hurt her. But I never planned to be seduce myself, and the funny thing was that she never intended to seduce me, it was her grace, her wit, the charm she possesed, her charasmatic glow, that brought me down to my knees.
It wasn't love. One of all things it wasn't love, it was more of a deep affection for this little bunny. I could never love, a Malfoy never loves, it was a weakness.
But somehow I couldn't imagine waking up day after day without knowing that his little rabbit would be sleeping soundly in the next room, or watching her from my windows as she playfully dances in the moor.
But this wasn't love, it didn't exist among the walls of the manor. But neither did laughter, however somehow it crept its way into his life. Love was another matter.
"Get far away from me, or I might get the urge to rape you." My back suddenly face her face, as I walked away, far away, where I could escape the essence of an angel, and brought the fat bastard's ass of my pride, where we both could sulk in our damn shameful ways.
My pride had an awful lot of ass because I felt the heavy weight of it, or was it the guilty calling of my conscience.
Damn conscience.
H.G. POV -
He hated me? The words seemed like a poison seething through my veins, waiting to kill me slowly and painfully. A month ago, it didn't seem anything from the ordinary. Draco Malfoy was my enemy for eight years, how would one measly month change the course of a lifetime.
Because it changed, I've seen a side of the Slytherin prince that I have never thought would exist. We laughed. We smiled. We talked. We practically flirted.
An amusing tinted blush appeared on my face.
And most of all I shared my first intimate kisses with the man who seemed human, after all these years as a monster. Draco Malfoy made me forget the deeper than deep wounds of the past from a certain green eyed person who didn't seem to love me at all. Even when I offered what I can. My heart.
That night I appeared at his doorstep, homeless and heart-broken, I never would realize that I would grow to like this man and his boisterous family. It seemed as if I never knew the real Draco Malfoy, until I opened up and melted that barrier.
But the harsh words he spoke, it seemed as if that unbreakable barrier was there again. The Draco I knew in the most perfect one month was the Draco I knew of the seven years in Hogwarts. And I was back to square one.
Who cares if he was a jerk all along. What does it matter to me? Malfoy can seduce all the women he wants, he is rich, charming, handsome . . . what am I thinking? Just because that rake swept me off my feet, seduced me, and left me a bumbling idiot, doesn't give any reason for me to believe that man was rich, charming, or handsome.
Because there is no doubt that he is not.
Draco Malfoy was perfect.
I sighed in defeat, I fell deeper in his little bunny hole.
Until . . . I fell in love with him. I cried for all my heart's foolish content, or rather pain, for I was helpless and in love. Those were two things that a vulnerable woman should never be in her time of need.
The reason being was I didn't know if my knight in shining armor would be there to save me. No doubt in my mind that my Slytherin prince could not get himself out of his own mess.
So how can I?
The man I love hates me. Can it get any worse than this? Knowing my luck, it probably can.
***
H.G. POV -
A few hours away to doom day, or should I say, doom night.
Here I am, cowering under my bed sheets like a frightened little child afraid of the dark. Pathetic. My eyes were screaming puffy red crybaby, but the tears kept falling like a faucet without a handle. Pathetic. And the fluffy pillows that I love were soaked like Spongebob Squarepants. Pathetic.
That makes three counts on the rare illness of self-pity. You know what they say, three strikes and you're out. "I'm not a bloody empire!"
Good Golly Merlin! I'm driving myself insane because of a man! And not any other man, but the Slytherin Prince that I hated for so long until now! Being the big fat flirt he is, Draco probably has some beautiful, sun- kissed blonde as his bed partner. And he probaby loves her!
The beautiful blonde probably is prettier, more intelligent, more regal, absoulutely more better than the mousy bookworm that I am! Why do I care? It's not like I'm green with envy, and the horrible green monster comes crawling to my side, reeking of jealousy.
I am beautiful! That's the spirit! I'll march up to Draco Malfoy, and show him that I am somewhat a gorgeous person. After I dry up my tears, and off I went on the search of my Slytherin Prince.
"I'm off to see the wizard, the wonderful wizard of Hogs! Because, because, because, because of all the great deeds he done! I'm off to see-"
I stop mid way to find my so called prince in a passionete lip-lock with some beautiful, sun-kissed blonde. So I was right! And the truth terribly hurts! But I was relieved in one way or the other, it proved that I couldn't possibly be in love with a player like that. Such a womanizer, he doesn't appriciate one woman and goes for a few. It's not like I was part of his life, who am I to tell him what is right.
I'm just the damn nanny for his sister! Why did I fall for his charm? I realized one thing that made me stop the useless ranting and stare. Was I jealous?
At that same moment, Malfoy (back to Malfoy, are we?) stopped his snog session with the life-sized barbie doll and watched as my tears fall for the third time this week. But tears come naturally when living in Malfoy Manor.
"Hermione, I can explain." Explain? Explain what? That his evil ways to manipulate me was a success, and how he tore my heart and stole my pride along with it.
"No, Draco. You don't have to explain. I understand that I was just another woman to play with, and I respect that."
It suprised me to my greatest extent that my voice maintained that reasonable, cool tone, even when my insides was a horrible mess. I just could let him win this last battle for my dignity. I couldn't let him see me crumble to the mere sight of him with another.
I was a Gryffindor.
But houses didn't matter any more once I took that step into the manor, I wasn't the Gryffindor bookworm anymore, and Draco wasn't the Slytherin prince.
We were "friends", or something more than that, like an intimate friendship that involved virginal touches or endless snog sessions.
"That's right, you are just another woman. Dracie and I are meant to be." The annoying, high-pitched voice of this woman was like nails scratching against the friction of a chalkboard. It was a deadly siren.
"Hermione! You don't understand." The nerve of this man! Deception I can withstand, but resolving to lying? What was he thinking?
"I understand completely, and I'm not mad. These past months, you made me feel special and loved. But the fact will always remain, I'm just the au pair. A servant, if you will. You don't want to be with a servant. Trust me."
Apart from his relentless pleading, all I can hear was my conscience demanding a refund on the price of love. Was it all true? Was I simply the au pair, and nothing more? The truth was inevitable.
I, Hermione Granger, was only a lowly servant to a man I grew to love.
The other truth was inevitable, as well. I love Draco Malfoy, and may never have my feeling returned. For it was obvious, he didn't love me.
With the new truth found, I strolled to my grand bedroom, to get ready for the long night ahead of me.
For Cinderella was going the charm her prince for only one night of bliss.
Until twelve midnight.
***
As I gaze unknowingly towards my reflection, my eyes followed the embodiment of me, from top to bottom. Disgrunted, I sighed a heavy sigh for the lack of beauty I possess, and came to the conclusion why Draco prefered that blonde bimbo over the bookworm. Obvious, wasn't it.
A rapid tapping was present against my door. It seemed as my fairy godfriend had come to pick up Cinderella for the ball. I opened the door to find an irritated blonde beauty in silver.
"What took you so damn long? You are obsessed with my brother, really. It takes you forever just to impress him. Ahh. Young love." I restrained myself from hexing her like her brother, but I remained quiet, as the pair of us walked down the hall to the place of destination. Then, a hall mirror caught my attention, and out of plain curiousity, I decided to look at my reflection one more time.
Of coarse, one more chance meant time. So I persuaded the frustrated Elle to leave without me. Once again, my eyes roamed to the figure fitting dress of seductive scarlet. It had no sleeve, straps, or anything special. It was a simple layered dress in red, but one that caught the eye and promised to never let go.
My chocolate curls looked absoulutely delicatable in my opinion. It trailed like the Victorian falls across my waist, merely held together with a single rosebud. Giggling like a child in Christmas, I spinned around slowly, as the layers of red silk fabric and bouncy curls followed me in mid air. For the first time in my life, I declared that I was somewhat beautiful tonight, and I was going to make sure Malfoy knew that.
"I am beautiful."
"You really are." That voice, a baritone amist of something parellel to Draco's. The same person that haunted me for nine years, that was the reason for so many tears, the reason for throwing away my life for so long. Goosebumps trailed my body, as I closed my eyes, reminising of days that seemed like a lifetime ago.
"Harry. What are you doing here?" It was the same charming, handsome Harry Potter, with the unruly mid-night dark hair and those emerald orbs that I used to love. My voice held no anger, for I can never be angry at my best friend, and once I thought we were soulmates. I thought wrong.
"Malfoy's sister invited me. She thought we could use a renion." Elizabeth Malfoy! That dirty, blonde-headed prat! She doesn't know what this could do.
"We don't need a renion. We don't need anything. The past is the past. I spent nine years forgetting, and I can't let you bring me the same pain I dealt again." He lifted his finger to my lips, silencing me.
"Now let's enjoy the evening. We can talk about this later. Shall we?" His arm protruded, offering a gentleman's escort. What gentleman? For all I know, all men are pigs! But being Hermione, I excepted it.
When we walked down the hall's entrance on staires, as if it was a page torn from Cinderella's Story, my eyes glistened with admiration for the scenary. Everything was a polished marble white, the winter wonderland in Malfoy Manor.
My gaze followed every single person in this room, wearing a crisp color of winter, the lighter hues of a rainbow. And I, the flame in the snow, wore this scarlet puff, as I stood out like a sore thumb. Another reason to kill the late Ms. Malfoy. That liar told me a fabled myth that the theme was general.
I could feel my face turn a pleasant hue of red. My eyes darted, left to right, looking for something, I didn't know what, but I felt I had to find something. And when I laid my eyes on him, I knew whom. Draco Malfoy, with the attached Barbie next to him as if he was some damn Ken, looking startled, bemused, and jealous? Why was he jealous? Was I?
D.M. POV -
Two thoughts ran through my head at once, one good, the other bad. It came to me that the image of Hermione was a sight. Dresssed in crimson, dressed to kill, this embodiment of a woman graced the hall with her beauty, one that stood from every other clone in this damn place.
The curls of her earthy tendrils sprung joyfully from the little rosebud emplanted. Her eyes. Those beautiful cinnamon orbs that seduced any man into bed, but knew nothing of that matter at all. Trailing slowly to her lips, I could feel myself getting hard. All I wanted to do was kiss her away, until she merely existed.
Until those lips would become swollen and plump, ready for another harvest. I wanted to devour and ravish her now. With all those luscious curves, I wanted to hear her whisper my name sweetly. For just one night. She would be mine. However I couldn't, and that made me steaming in anger and anticipation. 'Till later, my dear.
My gray eyes scanned to the person next to her. To my suprise, it was the emerald-eyed devil himself. How I hated him.
Potter! What is that son of a gun doing in this palace, escorting my mistress?
A uncontrollable rage overwhelmed every vein in my body, and I felt that I was burning in hell. I should burn in hell after what I did to Hermione, and burn well for it. However I didn't deserve to see Scarface ruin the joy I gained and hurt her again, it was too much.
Only I can hurt her, but I wouldn't. Hermione Granger was too important to me. She belongs to me only. Deep in my thought, I didn't realize that my dumb Barbie as Hermione referred to was annoyingly tugging at my arm. Until she stopped. Wierd.
"You love her, don't you? Then why in hell are you just watching her get hurt again? Get her before she goes away, and then you will regret it." The sun-kissed blond spoke with words of wisdom, for the first and last time.
How?
"I might be as dumb and beautiful as people think. But all women know one thing: men can be so stupid." With her last words, an adieu to me, she swayed away in the sea of crowds as a siren leaves her prey, dead.
I didn't love her, but there would be in no chance in hell would I let Harry Potter, the-boy-who-lived-to-annoy-me, take her away. She was my laughter, my tears, my smiles, and for the first time my heart. Quickly I started to approach her, the tide of superficicial hens talking away in their expensive robes prevented me, as I lost sight of her.
Blasted chickens! When I escaped the last of these fowls in disguise women, the search for seducing Hermione and screw boy Potter lead me to the massive patio. They were "talking."
"Why did you come back? Why couldn't you just leave me alone? You think that you can cause me more pain to come back. Just leave, Harry, before you cause more trouble than your worth." Nice comeback, Hermione. Not what does Potter say?
"I can't. I love you, Hermione. The decision I made nine years ago were wrong. I was too drunk with lust to realize that I love you. Come back to me, and leave this hellhole." At that moment all I wanted to do was tear Hermione away from Harry Fucking Potter, but I used all my self-control to not shred him to confetti. Ohh, Pretty Boy Confetti.
Unwilling weak, she shook her head, as tears threatened to fall down. "You can't. My place is here now. Please. When you left me to run away with Cho was something I couldn't forget. But on our wedding night? Isn't your apology a little to late now?" Here, was my strong rabbit, pleading, weak to his defenses. It was painful to watch. His displeasing hand cupped her face and tilted her face towards his.
"You don't know what you want. Come back with me now, 'Mione. I love you." Liar. Slowly, he drew her into a kiss. Like a chance in hell, I'll let him. Before Potter poisened innocence's lips, I gave him a taste of my right fist, meeting squarely with his jaw.
A high-pitched scream. And a crowd was the only thing I heard and seen, except for this poor excuse for a wizard in front of me. Potter and I kept fighting until Hermione both yelled at us, teary-faced and angry.
"Stop it, both of you. You ruined the whole night for everyone. Draco! Harry! Just go and leave." Out of dignity and respect, I turned my back on them, ashamed and afraid at the sight before me, where Hermione was helping that bastard with his wounds. Hey! I had wounds too, and I didn't realize that it was my heart that got scorched in the flames of hell.
A rage cursed through my veins. Why was the world against me? But it wasn't against Golden Boy Potter, the boy who recieved ever single beautiful thing in the world, just because he had a blasted scar. Every beautiful person, every laugh dawned on her face. Kisses of the brunette Aphrodite was blessed to him. He took the only slice of life gifted to me by the gods. It ruined me.
I was numb. Numb with emotions: hate, jealousy, remorse, and other things that meld like a melting pot of destruction. I didn't know what to do anymore. I, Draco Malfoy, was lost.
H.G. POV -
What the hell where they doing. Fighting like petty five-year-olds? Kneeling towards Harry and his bloody jaw, I watched my dragon walk away, with the same coldness from the very beginning, except this was just cold, pure rage.
I caught a look at Harry, as he looked triumphant on a victory of the Quidditich Cup. What bloody hell does he have to look happy for?
Harry Potter had not won me over, but gave me a more deeper understand of the real person in him. Potter was a despicable, dirty, wrinkly, old man (okay, maybe he wasn't an old man, but I hate him) that has an ego the size of the universe and deserve to burn in hell, while rolling a wheel up a hill and down a hill for the rest of his pathetic life, listening to Britney Fucking Spears' song "I'm A Slave For U"! (ohh, torchure!)
With my fist, I gave him a hard, bruising punch. With my knee, I kill his groin. With my foot, I tripped him to the ground. "I hope you burn in hell . . . (the rest of the bad things I said) . . . you have no right to demand I come back with you because you lost that power over me when I came to this place. These people loved me and cared for me when I was that sorry excuse you left. But now, I have the courage to tell you that I hate you for screwing my life!" I gave him a last kick in the stomack as I walked out.
Pansy Park-N-Slut was in the corner of the balcony, sniggering and smirking stupidly by herself next to this dirty (I mean as in perverted and filthy rich, smothered in dough) senior citizen. I stopped in front of her and smiled.
"Oh, I didn't realize that you had to fuck old men juts because you're poor. Well enjoy." With that I shoved my hand to her chest, exposing handfulls of tissue, and she fell off the balacony, showered with her tissue boobs.
"Opps." I left, leaving a guy who can't produce his dangerous sperm and a boobless slut. What can be better? With those, I also left me heart. The tower clock chimed midnight, and I rushed out quickly to escape my dark prince who didn't bother to chase his Cinderella, as I left my red stiletto slipper. It was no use to get it back. I was leaving, and it seemed as I was leaving forever.
The night was like a twisted, screwed story of Cinderella. But the ending would be unhappily ever after, for me. I didn't deserve to love these people. I was thee Mudblood, and he, thy Slytherin Prince. Not all fairy tales come true.
Packing the little luggage I own, I took the Knight Bus to get away from the chaos, away from my heart. As I watched Malfoy Manor disappear and become only a memory, I knew this was the only way. The only way to escape another heartache like Harry.
"I'm sorry, Draco. I love you." Ding, ding, ding. The last chimes of the tower was heard from a distance. It was midnight, the hour of tears.
Goodbye, love.
Chapter Four - To Our Tragedies
H.G. POV -
Pancake. Pancake. Pancake. Hmmm. That divine smell of the most delicious breakfast meal on the face of the earth. And I smell it. Somewhere.
Like a bloody bloodhound, I followed the sugary smell of maple syrup and melting butter to the kitchen. Follow the kitchen. Still in my imfamous overlarged pajamas, a gift from Ron (probably forgot my birthday, and gave me his pajamas as his "present." I have great friends), I was in the shock of my life when I saw . . .
Draco Malfoy in a "Kiss The Cook" apron making pancakes! Making bloody pancakes that didn't look like burnt crap that I made.
That feeling of fainting right there and then in the kitchen was stabbing me in the back. But I was too damn hungry to faint, plus the pancakes smell edible. Why waste it? Well, that look on Draco's face was timeless, never in my life would I guess that the Slytherin Prince knew how to cook.
"Draco, dear. Knowing you, I wouldn't even dare come near those pancakes, but that uncontrollable hunger is killing me. So can I please, please have one?"
Here I am, reduced to begging like an idiot fish just for food.
Pathetic, ain't it?
"Hermione, dear. You're awake, I'm so glad. After you went in a fever, last night, I thought I'd lose you forever." After his profound confession of his absoulute worry over me, I laughed, I didn't know why, but I had to destroy the silence going between us since we were rather uncomfortable with his little declaration. Yet, it was like the silence still remained, the tenseness was still there. Until . . .
"Sorry, Hermione, dear. I was going to offer some pancakes, but I don't think you need pancakes. What I think you need is a diet. Leave the eating to those who can afford it."
"I am not fat!"
The barrier of the void of comfort shattered, and the peace restored. For now.
With that smug look on his face, I wanted to kill him, but the Dragon had what I wanted, so why not bribe him.
"Okay, Malfoy. I'll give you five galleons for one pancake, plus the syrup and butter for 15 sickles."
"No, way. I don't need money, I got plenty. Just follow the instructions on the apron and you get it for free."
Kiss the Cook? He wants me to kiss the cook. Fine I'll follow the instructions for instant pancake. Once I faced him, still with that smug and triumphant look on his face, I gave him his "kiss" with flour smothered all over his face, making him look paler than he already is. Quickly I dived for the pancake, like a shark and his prey.
And off I ran, leaving a floured "pancake" Draco and his real pancakes outwitted by the au pair once again. Until. . .
Bam! Wam! Sam!
A irritated Draco Malfoy still in his "Kiss the Cook" apron, tapping his irritated foot and crossing his irritated arms. For goodness sake, the apron screamed "irritated mad man."
"Excuse me, miss. But you forgot to pay your fee." With delicate hands, he cupped my face into a kiss, no matter how powdery, it was still one of the renowned Draco kisses.
Was this the way love between friends were supposed to be? Did that promise to love him (as a friend) became this intense that I actually enjoy his kisses? I was falling deeper and deeper in this little bunny hole, and I didn't even know it.
D.M. POV -
Her irresistable lips seemed sweeter than usual, not refering to the syrup, it was as if she meant the kiss. Like she loved me. That would be impossible, but I didn't hate the idea, actually I loved it.
Which scared me terribly.
And that's why I stopped abruptly, facing a suprised Hermione. I stared, with a face that showed utter disgust, which was the farthest thing from what I was feeling, but I could let my icy guard down when I needed it the most.
"This is wrong. I want you so much, that's why I hate you, Granger." The scared expression on her beautifully sculpted face almost killed me, it showed sadness, it showed anger, but most of all, it showed pain.
From the beginning I started this little charade to intimidate and hurt Potter and his friends, the only thing I wanted was to laugh proudly at her face once I seduced and hurt her. But I never planned to be seduce myself, and the funny thing was that she never intended to seduce me, it was her grace, her wit, the charm she possesed, her charasmatic glow, that brought me down to my knees.
It wasn't love. One of all things it wasn't love, it was more of a deep affection for this little bunny. I could never love, a Malfoy never loves, it was a weakness.
But somehow I couldn't imagine waking up day after day without knowing that his little rabbit would be sleeping soundly in the next room, or watching her from my windows as she playfully dances in the moor.
But this wasn't love, it didn't exist among the walls of the manor. But neither did laughter, however somehow it crept its way into his life. Love was another matter.
"Get far away from me, or I might get the urge to rape you." My back suddenly face her face, as I walked away, far away, where I could escape the essence of an angel, and brought the fat bastard's ass of my pride, where we both could sulk in our damn shameful ways.
My pride had an awful lot of ass because I felt the heavy weight of it, or was it the guilty calling of my conscience.
Damn conscience.
H.G. POV -
He hated me? The words seemed like a poison seething through my veins, waiting to kill me slowly and painfully. A month ago, it didn't seem anything from the ordinary. Draco Malfoy was my enemy for eight years, how would one measly month change the course of a lifetime.
Because it changed, I've seen a side of the Slytherin prince that I have never thought would exist. We laughed. We smiled. We talked. We practically flirted.
An amusing tinted blush appeared on my face.
And most of all I shared my first intimate kisses with the man who seemed human, after all these years as a monster. Draco Malfoy made me forget the deeper than deep wounds of the past from a certain green eyed person who didn't seem to love me at all. Even when I offered what I can. My heart.
That night I appeared at his doorstep, homeless and heart-broken, I never would realize that I would grow to like this man and his boisterous family. It seemed as if I never knew the real Draco Malfoy, until I opened up and melted that barrier.
But the harsh words he spoke, it seemed as if that unbreakable barrier was there again. The Draco I knew in the most perfect one month was the Draco I knew of the seven years in Hogwarts. And I was back to square one.
Who cares if he was a jerk all along. What does it matter to me? Malfoy can seduce all the women he wants, he is rich, charming, handsome . . . what am I thinking? Just because that rake swept me off my feet, seduced me, and left me a bumbling idiot, doesn't give any reason for me to believe that man was rich, charming, or handsome.
Because there is no doubt that he is not.
Draco Malfoy was perfect.
I sighed in defeat, I fell deeper in his little bunny hole.
Until . . . I fell in love with him. I cried for all my heart's foolish content, or rather pain, for I was helpless and in love. Those were two things that a vulnerable woman should never be in her time of need.
The reason being was I didn't know if my knight in shining armor would be there to save me. No doubt in my mind that my Slytherin prince could not get himself out of his own mess.
So how can I?
The man I love hates me. Can it get any worse than this? Knowing my luck, it probably can.
***
H.G. POV -
A few hours away to doom day, or should I say, doom night.
Here I am, cowering under my bed sheets like a frightened little child afraid of the dark. Pathetic. My eyes were screaming puffy red crybaby, but the tears kept falling like a faucet without a handle. Pathetic. And the fluffy pillows that I love were soaked like Spongebob Squarepants. Pathetic.
That makes three counts on the rare illness of self-pity. You know what they say, three strikes and you're out. "I'm not a bloody empire!"
Good Golly Merlin! I'm driving myself insane because of a man! And not any other man, but the Slytherin Prince that I hated for so long until now! Being the big fat flirt he is, Draco probably has some beautiful, sun- kissed blonde as his bed partner. And he probaby loves her!
The beautiful blonde probably is prettier, more intelligent, more regal, absoulutely more better than the mousy bookworm that I am! Why do I care? It's not like I'm green with envy, and the horrible green monster comes crawling to my side, reeking of jealousy.
I am beautiful! That's the spirit! I'll march up to Draco Malfoy, and show him that I am somewhat a gorgeous person. After I dry up my tears, and off I went on the search of my Slytherin Prince.
"I'm off to see the wizard, the wonderful wizard of Hogs! Because, because, because, because of all the great deeds he done! I'm off to see-"
I stop mid way to find my so called prince in a passionete lip-lock with some beautiful, sun-kissed blonde. So I was right! And the truth terribly hurts! But I was relieved in one way or the other, it proved that I couldn't possibly be in love with a player like that. Such a womanizer, he doesn't appriciate one woman and goes for a few. It's not like I was part of his life, who am I to tell him what is right.
I'm just the damn nanny for his sister! Why did I fall for his charm? I realized one thing that made me stop the useless ranting and stare. Was I jealous?
At that same moment, Malfoy (back to Malfoy, are we?) stopped his snog session with the life-sized barbie doll and watched as my tears fall for the third time this week. But tears come naturally when living in Malfoy Manor.
"Hermione, I can explain." Explain? Explain what? That his evil ways to manipulate me was a success, and how he tore my heart and stole my pride along with it.
"No, Draco. You don't have to explain. I understand that I was just another woman to play with, and I respect that."
It suprised me to my greatest extent that my voice maintained that reasonable, cool tone, even when my insides was a horrible mess. I just could let him win this last battle for my dignity. I couldn't let him see me crumble to the mere sight of him with another.
I was a Gryffindor.
But houses didn't matter any more once I took that step into the manor, I wasn't the Gryffindor bookworm anymore, and Draco wasn't the Slytherin prince.
We were "friends", or something more than that, like an intimate friendship that involved virginal touches or endless snog sessions.
"That's right, you are just another woman. Dracie and I are meant to be." The annoying, high-pitched voice of this woman was like nails scratching against the friction of a chalkboard. It was a deadly siren.
"Hermione! You don't understand." The nerve of this man! Deception I can withstand, but resolving to lying? What was he thinking?
"I understand completely, and I'm not mad. These past months, you made me feel special and loved. But the fact will always remain, I'm just the au pair. A servant, if you will. You don't want to be with a servant. Trust me."
Apart from his relentless pleading, all I can hear was my conscience demanding a refund on the price of love. Was it all true? Was I simply the au pair, and nothing more? The truth was inevitable.
I, Hermione Granger, was only a lowly servant to a man I grew to love.
The other truth was inevitable, as well. I love Draco Malfoy, and may never have my feeling returned. For it was obvious, he didn't love me.
With the new truth found, I strolled to my grand bedroom, to get ready for the long night ahead of me.
For Cinderella was going the charm her prince for only one night of bliss.
Until twelve midnight.
***
As I gaze unknowingly towards my reflection, my eyes followed the embodiment of me, from top to bottom. Disgrunted, I sighed a heavy sigh for the lack of beauty I possess, and came to the conclusion why Draco prefered that blonde bimbo over the bookworm. Obvious, wasn't it.
A rapid tapping was present against my door. It seemed as my fairy godfriend had come to pick up Cinderella for the ball. I opened the door to find an irritated blonde beauty in silver.
"What took you so damn long? You are obsessed with my brother, really. It takes you forever just to impress him. Ahh. Young love." I restrained myself from hexing her like her brother, but I remained quiet, as the pair of us walked down the hall to the place of destination. Then, a hall mirror caught my attention, and out of plain curiousity, I decided to look at my reflection one more time.
Of coarse, one more chance meant time. So I persuaded the frustrated Elle to leave without me. Once again, my eyes roamed to the figure fitting dress of seductive scarlet. It had no sleeve, straps, or anything special. It was a simple layered dress in red, but one that caught the eye and promised to never let go.
My chocolate curls looked absoulutely delicatable in my opinion. It trailed like the Victorian falls across my waist, merely held together with a single rosebud. Giggling like a child in Christmas, I spinned around slowly, as the layers of red silk fabric and bouncy curls followed me in mid air. For the first time in my life, I declared that I was somewhat beautiful tonight, and I was going to make sure Malfoy knew that.
"I am beautiful."
"You really are." That voice, a baritone amist of something parellel to Draco's. The same person that haunted me for nine years, that was the reason for so many tears, the reason for throwing away my life for so long. Goosebumps trailed my body, as I closed my eyes, reminising of days that seemed like a lifetime ago.
"Harry. What are you doing here?" It was the same charming, handsome Harry Potter, with the unruly mid-night dark hair and those emerald orbs that I used to love. My voice held no anger, for I can never be angry at my best friend, and once I thought we were soulmates. I thought wrong.
"Malfoy's sister invited me. She thought we could use a renion." Elizabeth Malfoy! That dirty, blonde-headed prat! She doesn't know what this could do.
"We don't need a renion. We don't need anything. The past is the past. I spent nine years forgetting, and I can't let you bring me the same pain I dealt again." He lifted his finger to my lips, silencing me.
"Now let's enjoy the evening. We can talk about this later. Shall we?" His arm protruded, offering a gentleman's escort. What gentleman? For all I know, all men are pigs! But being Hermione, I excepted it.
When we walked down the hall's entrance on staires, as if it was a page torn from Cinderella's Story, my eyes glistened with admiration for the scenary. Everything was a polished marble white, the winter wonderland in Malfoy Manor.
My gaze followed every single person in this room, wearing a crisp color of winter, the lighter hues of a rainbow. And I, the flame in the snow, wore this scarlet puff, as I stood out like a sore thumb. Another reason to kill the late Ms. Malfoy. That liar told me a fabled myth that the theme was general.
I could feel my face turn a pleasant hue of red. My eyes darted, left to right, looking for something, I didn't know what, but I felt I had to find something. And when I laid my eyes on him, I knew whom. Draco Malfoy, with the attached Barbie next to him as if he was some damn Ken, looking startled, bemused, and jealous? Why was he jealous? Was I?
D.M. POV -
Two thoughts ran through my head at once, one good, the other bad. It came to me that the image of Hermione was a sight. Dresssed in crimson, dressed to kill, this embodiment of a woman graced the hall with her beauty, one that stood from every other clone in this damn place.
The curls of her earthy tendrils sprung joyfully from the little rosebud emplanted. Her eyes. Those beautiful cinnamon orbs that seduced any man into bed, but knew nothing of that matter at all. Trailing slowly to her lips, I could feel myself getting hard. All I wanted to do was kiss her away, until she merely existed.
Until those lips would become swollen and plump, ready for another harvest. I wanted to devour and ravish her now. With all those luscious curves, I wanted to hear her whisper my name sweetly. For just one night. She would be mine. However I couldn't, and that made me steaming in anger and anticipation. 'Till later, my dear.
My gray eyes scanned to the person next to her. To my suprise, it was the emerald-eyed devil himself. How I hated him.
Potter! What is that son of a gun doing in this palace, escorting my mistress?
A uncontrollable rage overwhelmed every vein in my body, and I felt that I was burning in hell. I should burn in hell after what I did to Hermione, and burn well for it. However I didn't deserve to see Scarface ruin the joy I gained and hurt her again, it was too much.
Only I can hurt her, but I wouldn't. Hermione Granger was too important to me. She belongs to me only. Deep in my thought, I didn't realize that my dumb Barbie as Hermione referred to was annoyingly tugging at my arm. Until she stopped. Wierd.
"You love her, don't you? Then why in hell are you just watching her get hurt again? Get her before she goes away, and then you will regret it." The sun-kissed blond spoke with words of wisdom, for the first and last time.
How?
"I might be as dumb and beautiful as people think. But all women know one thing: men can be so stupid." With her last words, an adieu to me, she swayed away in the sea of crowds as a siren leaves her prey, dead.
I didn't love her, but there would be in no chance in hell would I let Harry Potter, the-boy-who-lived-to-annoy-me, take her away. She was my laughter, my tears, my smiles, and for the first time my heart. Quickly I started to approach her, the tide of superficicial hens talking away in their expensive robes prevented me, as I lost sight of her.
Blasted chickens! When I escaped the last of these fowls in disguise women, the search for seducing Hermione and screw boy Potter lead me to the massive patio. They were "talking."
"Why did you come back? Why couldn't you just leave me alone? You think that you can cause me more pain to come back. Just leave, Harry, before you cause more trouble than your worth." Nice comeback, Hermione. Not what does Potter say?
"I can't. I love you, Hermione. The decision I made nine years ago were wrong. I was too drunk with lust to realize that I love you. Come back to me, and leave this hellhole." At that moment all I wanted to do was tear Hermione away from Harry Fucking Potter, but I used all my self-control to not shred him to confetti. Ohh, Pretty Boy Confetti.
Unwilling weak, she shook her head, as tears threatened to fall down. "You can't. My place is here now. Please. When you left me to run away with Cho was something I couldn't forget. But on our wedding night? Isn't your apology a little to late now?" Here, was my strong rabbit, pleading, weak to his defenses. It was painful to watch. His displeasing hand cupped her face and tilted her face towards his.
"You don't know what you want. Come back with me now, 'Mione. I love you." Liar. Slowly, he drew her into a kiss. Like a chance in hell, I'll let him. Before Potter poisened innocence's lips, I gave him a taste of my right fist, meeting squarely with his jaw.
A high-pitched scream. And a crowd was the only thing I heard and seen, except for this poor excuse for a wizard in front of me. Potter and I kept fighting until Hermione both yelled at us, teary-faced and angry.
"Stop it, both of you. You ruined the whole night for everyone. Draco! Harry! Just go and leave." Out of dignity and respect, I turned my back on them, ashamed and afraid at the sight before me, where Hermione was helping that bastard with his wounds. Hey! I had wounds too, and I didn't realize that it was my heart that got scorched in the flames of hell.
A rage cursed through my veins. Why was the world against me? But it wasn't against Golden Boy Potter, the boy who recieved ever single beautiful thing in the world, just because he had a blasted scar. Every beautiful person, every laugh dawned on her face. Kisses of the brunette Aphrodite was blessed to him. He took the only slice of life gifted to me by the gods. It ruined me.
I was numb. Numb with emotions: hate, jealousy, remorse, and other things that meld like a melting pot of destruction. I didn't know what to do anymore. I, Draco Malfoy, was lost.
H.G. POV -
What the hell where they doing. Fighting like petty five-year-olds? Kneeling towards Harry and his bloody jaw, I watched my dragon walk away, with the same coldness from the very beginning, except this was just cold, pure rage.
I caught a look at Harry, as he looked triumphant on a victory of the Quidditich Cup. What bloody hell does he have to look happy for?
Harry Potter had not won me over, but gave me a more deeper understand of the real person in him. Potter was a despicable, dirty, wrinkly, old man (okay, maybe he wasn't an old man, but I hate him) that has an ego the size of the universe and deserve to burn in hell, while rolling a wheel up a hill and down a hill for the rest of his pathetic life, listening to Britney Fucking Spears' song "I'm A Slave For U"! (ohh, torchure!)
With my fist, I gave him a hard, bruising punch. With my knee, I kill his groin. With my foot, I tripped him to the ground. "I hope you burn in hell . . . (the rest of the bad things I said) . . . you have no right to demand I come back with you because you lost that power over me when I came to this place. These people loved me and cared for me when I was that sorry excuse you left. But now, I have the courage to tell you that I hate you for screwing my life!" I gave him a last kick in the stomack as I walked out.
Pansy Park-N-Slut was in the corner of the balcony, sniggering and smirking stupidly by herself next to this dirty (I mean as in perverted and filthy rich, smothered in dough) senior citizen. I stopped in front of her and smiled.
"Oh, I didn't realize that you had to fuck old men juts because you're poor. Well enjoy." With that I shoved my hand to her chest, exposing handfulls of tissue, and she fell off the balacony, showered with her tissue boobs.
"Opps." I left, leaving a guy who can't produce his dangerous sperm and a boobless slut. What can be better? With those, I also left me heart. The tower clock chimed midnight, and I rushed out quickly to escape my dark prince who didn't bother to chase his Cinderella, as I left my red stiletto slipper. It was no use to get it back. I was leaving, and it seemed as I was leaving forever.
The night was like a twisted, screwed story of Cinderella. But the ending would be unhappily ever after, for me. I didn't deserve to love these people. I was thee Mudblood, and he, thy Slytherin Prince. Not all fairy tales come true.
Packing the little luggage I own, I took the Knight Bus to get away from the chaos, away from my heart. As I watched Malfoy Manor disappear and become only a memory, I knew this was the only way. The only way to escape another heartache like Harry.
"I'm sorry, Draco. I love you." Ding, ding, ding. The last chimes of the tower was heard from a distance. It was midnight, the hour of tears.
Goodbye, love.
