She sat on the magnificent stone window seat and gazed out of the window.
From where she sat she could see across the grounds and over the
countryside beyond. She sat for hours every day staring at this beautiful
landscape, but it never moved her like it had when she'd first set eyes on
it. Now it was just mocking her. She had loved the endless fields and
hills, the lines of enormous old oak trees and the narrow river that snaked
its way through the valley. But that was a long time ago.
She glanced down at where her hands lay folded on her lap. She lifted up her left hand and studied the magnificent blue opal ring on her finger. He had given that to her seven years ago tomorrow. He had placed that ring on her finger and sworn to love her no matter what. He had lied. She hated him more than she could ever say. He had taken away everything she had, and left her cold and alone.
The worst part of it was that he was still here with her. Or rather she was still here with him. She couldn't get away from him. He may not love her, but she belonged to him; she was his property, and he made damn sure she knew that.
She raised her eyes and looked out of the window again. At that moment she heard the door behind her open, but she did not look round. She knew it would be him; he did not even permit the servants to talk to her any more. The door closed gently and she heard footsteps moving across the room towards her. He said her name softly, but the sound of it made her shiver. It wasn't intimate. It wasn't said endearingly or kindly, it was cold. Cold and mocking. She didn't reply to him, and there was a moment of complete silence. She could have sworn even the birds had stopped singing. Suddenly he grabbed her shoulders and pulled her round to face him.
"You should answer me when I address you my dear," he said with a sneer pulling at his handsome features. She stared up at him, searching his eyes for the man she had known before he had brought her to this place. He grinned at her, then leaned down and pressed his lips against hers. She resisted the urge to push him away, his lips felt cold and his grip on her upper arms was painful. Thankfully he soon relinquished his hold on her and with a sweep of his cloak, he had strode across the room and pulled the door open. "I shall see you for dinner Pansy," he said abruptly before leaving. It was not a request.
After he had gone, she leaned her forehead against the cool glass of the window and a single tear fell onto the skirt of her robes.
"Whatever you say Draco," she whispered.
She glanced down at where her hands lay folded on her lap. She lifted up her left hand and studied the magnificent blue opal ring on her finger. He had given that to her seven years ago tomorrow. He had placed that ring on her finger and sworn to love her no matter what. He had lied. She hated him more than she could ever say. He had taken away everything she had, and left her cold and alone.
The worst part of it was that he was still here with her. Or rather she was still here with him. She couldn't get away from him. He may not love her, but she belonged to him; she was his property, and he made damn sure she knew that.
She raised her eyes and looked out of the window again. At that moment she heard the door behind her open, but she did not look round. She knew it would be him; he did not even permit the servants to talk to her any more. The door closed gently and she heard footsteps moving across the room towards her. He said her name softly, but the sound of it made her shiver. It wasn't intimate. It wasn't said endearingly or kindly, it was cold. Cold and mocking. She didn't reply to him, and there was a moment of complete silence. She could have sworn even the birds had stopped singing. Suddenly he grabbed her shoulders and pulled her round to face him.
"You should answer me when I address you my dear," he said with a sneer pulling at his handsome features. She stared up at him, searching his eyes for the man she had known before he had brought her to this place. He grinned at her, then leaned down and pressed his lips against hers. She resisted the urge to push him away, his lips felt cold and his grip on her upper arms was painful. Thankfully he soon relinquished his hold on her and with a sweep of his cloak, he had strode across the room and pulled the door open. "I shall see you for dinner Pansy," he said abruptly before leaving. It was not a request.
After he had gone, she leaned her forehead against the cool glass of the window and a single tear fell onto the skirt of her robes.
"Whatever you say Draco," she whispered.