A/N: Just a quick fic that I was impulse to write. Flames will be used to
heat my house.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, they belong to God (i.e. J.K. Rowling). I do not own the song either.
~*~*The Blade Sinks Deeper*~*~
She rolled over on top of the red satin sheets and saw his angelic face. God how she hated to see it. She turned onto her back and starred at the canopy of the bed. How could she have let this happen? He used her. Again. It seemed to be happening very night now. Hallways, classrooms, closets. Anywhere he found fit to have her. How could she, Hermione Granger, become a slave to someone? A sexual slave to anyone. Let alone, to a Malfoy.
It started off as once every week or two, but now he would just take her after class if he so desired. Every day. Any day.
She didn't need it. The abuse, the pain. He was violent. Bruises, cuts, scars, covering every part of her body. Her lips were purple. The proof of his violence. She felt her shoulder. Blood. Dripping onto the sheets. No doubt the mattress was stained by now.
Why did he choose this year, out of all the possible years, to have her?
Her parents divorce fresh in her mind. The slashes across her back. Her father. He enjoyed it. Seeing her in pain, watching her cry at his feet. Begging. He had raped her. A lot. He liked the power.
Why did her mother leave? Fed up she figured. Fed up with his abusive ways. The beatings her mother had to endure. She shuddered.
Hermione stood. She grabbed her clothes and ran to bathroom. Although it wasn't much of a run. She had developed a limp. Draco. He had bruised her entire thigh. It hurt.
She felt like she had died and gone to hell. But she hadn't. She wished she did. It had turned into her fantasy, her one wish.
She got dressed. Desperately trying not to catch view of herself in the mirror. When she was completely covered she looked into the evil piece of glass. What she saw starring back was no longer a perky brunette with bright almond eyes. She saw a massacre. A body standing there without a soul, without a spirit. A young women, now purple with bruises. Her hair was matted and unruly. The almond eyes had lost their glow. They were lifeless. Two empty voids placed just below her forehead.
Her hand tightened into a sweaty ball. Her knuckles were white. She lifted her arm and threw it into the mirror. It shattered. She could feel the small bits of glass cut her flesh. Small, sharp stinging. She felt tears escape her eyes and fall down to her lips. Salty. She sunk to the floor, collected in a small ball leaning against the wooden panels of the sinks cabinets. She fell asleep there. Crying to herself.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, they belong to God (i.e. J.K. Rowling). I do not own the song either.
~*~*The Blade Sinks Deeper*~*~
She rolled over on top of the red satin sheets and saw his angelic face. God how she hated to see it. She turned onto her back and starred at the canopy of the bed. How could she have let this happen? He used her. Again. It seemed to be happening very night now. Hallways, classrooms, closets. Anywhere he found fit to have her. How could she, Hermione Granger, become a slave to someone? A sexual slave to anyone. Let alone, to a Malfoy.
It started off as once every week or two, but now he would just take her after class if he so desired. Every day. Any day.
She didn't need it. The abuse, the pain. He was violent. Bruises, cuts, scars, covering every part of her body. Her lips were purple. The proof of his violence. She felt her shoulder. Blood. Dripping onto the sheets. No doubt the mattress was stained by now.
Why did he choose this year, out of all the possible years, to have her?
Her parents divorce fresh in her mind. The slashes across her back. Her father. He enjoyed it. Seeing her in pain, watching her cry at his feet. Begging. He had raped her. A lot. He liked the power.
Why did her mother leave? Fed up she figured. Fed up with his abusive ways. The beatings her mother had to endure. She shuddered.
Hermione stood. She grabbed her clothes and ran to bathroom. Although it wasn't much of a run. She had developed a limp. Draco. He had bruised her entire thigh. It hurt.
She felt like she had died and gone to hell. But she hadn't. She wished she did. It had turned into her fantasy, her one wish.
She got dressed. Desperately trying not to catch view of herself in the mirror. When she was completely covered she looked into the evil piece of glass. What she saw starring back was no longer a perky brunette with bright almond eyes. She saw a massacre. A body standing there without a soul, without a spirit. A young women, now purple with bruises. Her hair was matted and unruly. The almond eyes had lost their glow. They were lifeless. Two empty voids placed just below her forehead.
Her hand tightened into a sweaty ball. Her knuckles were white. She lifted her arm and threw it into the mirror. It shattered. She could feel the small bits of glass cut her flesh. Small, sharp stinging. She felt tears escape her eyes and fall down to her lips. Salty. She sunk to the floor, collected in a small ball leaning against the wooden panels of the sinks cabinets. She fell asleep there. Crying to herself.