D i s c l a i m e r : N.O.T. M.I.N.E.
Inside, he always treated her like some pathetic, filthy mudblood. As if she had some sort of disease. As if she was mudblood Granger...only lower. She was always bullied in their house. She had been kicked around, disregarding the fact that she was, in fact, a pureblood, and one of the daughters of a prestige family in the wizarding community.
Every night, she would cry. A knife would always be clutched by her hand. She would stare at it listening to the whispering temptations to use it against herself. Never. She never gave in.
Every morning, she would open her swollen eyes. She would force herself to get up, even though she was dreading the day as seconds pass.
Every minute she would wonder. She would have given anything to know what it was like to have friends. To have someone to care, worry and love her.
Outside he acted sweet. He would smile at her when everyone was watching. He would hold her hand and his eyes would be warm. But when everyone else turned their back on them, his smile would turn into a sneer. His eyes would turn cold, and his hand would let go of hers.
Inside, she would dream. She would wish that his smile and touch were real.
Outside, he would kiss her cheek. Just to show to the others that they were perfect. She would always remind herself that it meant nothing, but she always felt tingly every time he did it. Nothing would dampen that feeling, unless she looked into his eyes. She could see what was covered by his mask. Disgust was clearly reflected on them.
Inside, she was seething. He never failed to make her feel miserable about herself. She would sigh inwardly, while clenching her fists. Sometimes, she would smile that saccharine smile of hers, which she knew irritated him.
He would raise his eyebrows and smirk. The same thought would go through his mind every time she "challenged" him. 'You never learn'.
He would grasp her hand and squeeze it as hard as he could, as if he was trying to break her bones. He would always see tears forming in her eyes. That was when he would ease his touch and let go, satisfied. He always had to win.
Every time, he would never see her tears fall. She would always blink them back and put on a strong façade. She would never allow anyone to see how weak she really was.
Everyday, she hated herself more and more. She could not bring herself to stand up to him. She was terrified and she knew it. She never showed her fear but he read it. Fear was written all over her eyes.
Every moment, she'd imagine herself casting the Cructacius curse on him. She'd imagine inflicting as much pain on him, as he did on her. It was his fault that her own house turned against her. It was his fault that she was alone. Everything was his fault. Everything that went wrong was his doing.
Every moment, her love for him grew to hate.