Silence. An uncomfortable stone-still silence, quiet enough for anyone
present to hear their heart beating within their chest, after Hermione
uttered that one name.
Draco rolled his eyes. Snape's eyes were shifting; he was looking anywhere but at Hermione. Voldemort looked angry; he had his hand clenched on the wand in his inside pocket within his robes.
Hermione felt very exposed next to /them/ in their long, flowing black robes. And she felt very short as well compared to them...
She sighed; it was useless making conversation with these three...
"I'm going," she said, pulling the doorknob behind her and slipping out. The last the preppy-blonde, grease-head, and nose-less heard of her was her muttering something along the lines of "bloody Slytherins" as she left the gargoyles guarding Dumbledore's office and turned left towards the Great Hall.
She had not gone eight paces once she reached the Hall when she saw Dumbledore, eyes twinkling behind the spectacles with amusement, eating a Cauldron cake and licking his fingers. He looked up when he heard Hermione, smiling in greeting, not noticing the few crumbs sticking in his beard.
"How did it go?" he asked, once he swallowed.
Hermione growled in her throat, not trusting herself to speak.
"Ah well, they are a charming bunch aren't they? I found a book in Hogsmeade; I thought you might like it..." Dumbledore said cheerily, licking his fingers one last time before producing a book from within the folds of his robes and handing it to Hermione. She snatched it from his hands, angry at him for dragging her into this in the first place. Who was he to control her life?
She walked away, reading the cover, wanting to hex the lovey-dovey couple on the cover into oblivion. Hermione glanced at the couple underneath mocking her.
"SCREW YOU DUMBLEDORE!" she screamed, and just as he turned around, surprised, she threw the book at him – it hit him square in the face and fell into his hands. Hermione turned on her heel and ran out of the castle, flinging the doors open and flying past a bewildered Hagrid going up the steps.
Dumbledore, meanwhile, blinked, and walked back to his office, muttering the password to his trusty gargoyles.
Snape, Draco, and Voldemort were standing by the fireplace, about to Floo out. Snape spun around, hearing Dumbledore's footsteps.
"I see you have returned to us, Headmaster," he said silkily. Draco and Voldemort turned around.
"Ah, yes, Severus - I just stopped by for lunch in..."
Snape cut across him. "What's that you're holding?"
Dumbledore looked down at the book.
"Oh, I found this for Hermione in a bookstore I'm rather fond of – I gave it to her in the halls but she threw it at my head and yelled 'Screw you Dumbledore' in the Great Hall. Quite amusing actually."
"What book is it to get the Mud - Granger so upset?" Draco asked, although not really caring.
Dumbledore handed it to him. Draco stopped to read the cover; Voldemort, holding a fistful of Floo powder in his hand, and Snape bent over Draco's shoulder.
"Romeo and Juliet" scrolled across the book in big fancy letters, followed underneath with "The famous love story by William Shakespeare."
Voldemort blinked; it sounded familiar...he remembered reading it, way back during those long boring summers at the muggle orphanage. A bit too mushy for him – stupid sappy love stories - sounded like a Dumbledore-type-of- book alright (although he liked all the deaths – two servants, Mercutio, Tybalt, Paris, Lady Montague, Romeo, and Juliet, as he last recalled).
He whipped out his wand and whispered "Incendio" – the book burst into flame in Draco's hands and burned down to ashes. Draco winced, staring down at his hands which were now red from the fire.
"What was that for?" Snape asked. "I'm no romance-fan myself, but burning Shakespeare?"
"Do you dare question your master?" Voldemort asked dangerously, pointing his wand at Snape's chest.
Dumbledore watched the proceedings amusedly, as usual – Draco was helping himself to some Floo powder. Snape answered the Dark Lord with a 'no' before walking out of Dumbledore's office, headed towards his rooms. Voldemort threw the Floo powder in the fire and walked into the green flames, yelling 'The Riddle House' as he did so.
Meanwhile, as soon as Hermione reached Hogwart's boundaries, which wasn't long, as she was running, she dissapparated. She appeared moments later in her room by the fireplace. She sank down in a comfy armchair, head in her hands. She suddenly felt very old. She started shaking, and tears leaked from her eyes.
She had just graduated a month ago – she had her life ahead of her, she was free to do whatever she wanted – travel, fight in the war, research and invent or discover something, teach, write, become an Animagus...whatever she wanted now that she wasn't bound by schoolwork and being a minor.
She had thought of marriage before, but she didn't want it just yet – and when she was younger she had always fancied marrying a Prince Charming, a Mr. Right – a man who could support her, protect her, /love/ her...as time went on, that vision shifted to a new light as she started recognizing potential candidates at Hogwarts...she saw herself marrying Ron or Harry eventually, although she crossed Ron off the list when she realized how immature he was. Harry was a potential...he was strong enough mentally, physically, spiritually, financially, etc, to support and protect her. And she knew he would love her in return – if she opened up her feelings and extended her heart to him, she knew Harry wouldn't refuse – he would only love her back –
And less than an hour ago, she lost all that. Lost it. Oh sure, she was married now, but it wasn't bliss now. It was a curse. And it was a simple matter of the husband – with Harry she could see pure wedded bliss. With Malfoy, Snape, and Voldemort, she saw a curse – she saw herself being chained to them, iron trapping her wrists and feet and throat, welded to an iron chain held perhaps gleefully by her husband. Under magical marriage law, when the groom kissed his bride, a bond developed between them, although legally, the man had power over his spouse; a remainder from Medieval times, just like the fact that a woman took her husbands last name and lost her identity when she married.
Hermione cringed at the thought – 'Mrs. Hermione Malfoy'? 'Mrs. Hermione Snape'? 'Mrs. Hermione Riddle'?
In her mind, she saw several nightmares play out as a result of her marriage. An abusive husband. One that ignored her. One that cheated on her. Or raped her. Or enslaved her. Or tortured her or killed her or yelled at her or insulted her...She could see all within the range of either. With Draco it'd be sexual abuse. With Snape it'd be verbal abuse. With Voldemort it'd be physical abuse. Neither was desirable.
She saw herself forbidden from seeing Harry ever again, forbidden from talking to Dumbledore, dragged down into a world of purebloods, Slytherins, Death Eaters, Dark Arts, a shadow cast on her once light-filled life.
What would people's reactions be? What would Harry or Ron say? Would they still be friends with her, or desert her as a traitor, the way most of the wizarding world surely would? Would her husband's "friends" accept her, or be wary of her as a potential spy, or see her as her husband's whore?
She was still a virgin....and Magical Law decreed you had to consummate your marriage within six months – of course there was always the chance her husband would ignore that, but it wasn't likely.
She grimaced and a small sob escaped her lips as she mulled over the strings attached to her newly-acquired freedom. Her freedom of which there was only three months left – three months left to survive.
Until she was stuck in a living hell awaiting her death.
She wiped her tears away and sat up. Death. That was an attractive option. Kill herself and she wouldn't face years of mental/physical/emotional damage and torture through her future spouse, her soul-mate.
She went to bed that night on an empty stomach, having no appetite. She tossed and turned, unable to sleep. She kept picturing Snape's sneering pale hook-nosed face surrounded by greasy black hair...Draco's smirking pale pointed face and platinum-blonde hair...Voldemort's livid pale snake- nosed face...faces swimming in front of her...
She heard their voices in her ears as if they were right next to her – an arrogant drawl, a silky baritone, a high cold whisper...
Their eyes stared at her in the darkness – cold red snake-like black eyes like endless steel-gray eyes...
Never wavering...
Memories replayed in her head – the time Malfoy called her 'mudblood', the time her buckteeth enlargened and Snape said 'I see no difference', the time Voldemort tortured her for information about Harry, just last year...when Snape called her an 'insufferable know-it-all'...when she, Ron, and Harry (it hurt thinking about them) made a Polyjuice potion thinking Malfoy was the heir of Slytherin...going to the Department of Mysteries to fight off Voldemort...hearing about Harry's visions and recounts of his memorable episodes at the end of each year...the shock people had whenever she said 'Voldemort' – how he was talked about in hushed tones as if he might be on the other side of the door listening...seeing Voldemort's name in the books, Malfoy in the papers, Snape in potions journals...his spiky handwriting on her homework...Malfoy and Snape's snide-comments and insults directed at her...hearing Dumbledore, Harry, the Weasleys, Sirius, and others talk about what Voldemort's up to, Snape's latest potion's assignment or report from a DE meeting, whether or not Malfoy will follow in his father's footsteps and his father's influence in the ministry...
Countless memories causing her pain, times that have hurt her over the years. Life would be so easy if everyone was in their own little bubble, in their own little world, instead of interacting with everyone else and offering their two-cents whether it's wanted or not...
If only life were that simple. But no, it's hard-wired in humans to need others to survive – there's a biological need for others to interact with, whether it's a lover, parent, friend, professor, enemy, stranger...
At last, Hermione fell asleep, just as it was near daybreak.
She awoke late the next day, around eleven. Over a late breakfast, she came to terms with a simple fact. She had three months of freedom left. Why waste it on brooding over what was to come in the future instead of enjoying it while she could?
She resolved to focus her life on other things besides the change her life would take, no matter how hard it would be to – well, not necessarily forget, just put on the back-burner in her subconscious...
As for the option of killing herself, she thought it just wouldn't be Gryffindor to do so – and there was the satisfaction that her life became a living hell because of marriage, her husband's would also.
She felt much happier after that thought.
So life continued as usual.
Draco rolled his eyes. Snape's eyes were shifting; he was looking anywhere but at Hermione. Voldemort looked angry; he had his hand clenched on the wand in his inside pocket within his robes.
Hermione felt very exposed next to /them/ in their long, flowing black robes. And she felt very short as well compared to them...
She sighed; it was useless making conversation with these three...
"I'm going," she said, pulling the doorknob behind her and slipping out. The last the preppy-blonde, grease-head, and nose-less heard of her was her muttering something along the lines of "bloody Slytherins" as she left the gargoyles guarding Dumbledore's office and turned left towards the Great Hall.
She had not gone eight paces once she reached the Hall when she saw Dumbledore, eyes twinkling behind the spectacles with amusement, eating a Cauldron cake and licking his fingers. He looked up when he heard Hermione, smiling in greeting, not noticing the few crumbs sticking in his beard.
"How did it go?" he asked, once he swallowed.
Hermione growled in her throat, not trusting herself to speak.
"Ah well, they are a charming bunch aren't they? I found a book in Hogsmeade; I thought you might like it..." Dumbledore said cheerily, licking his fingers one last time before producing a book from within the folds of his robes and handing it to Hermione. She snatched it from his hands, angry at him for dragging her into this in the first place. Who was he to control her life?
She walked away, reading the cover, wanting to hex the lovey-dovey couple on the cover into oblivion. Hermione glanced at the couple underneath mocking her.
"SCREW YOU DUMBLEDORE!" she screamed, and just as he turned around, surprised, she threw the book at him – it hit him square in the face and fell into his hands. Hermione turned on her heel and ran out of the castle, flinging the doors open and flying past a bewildered Hagrid going up the steps.
Dumbledore, meanwhile, blinked, and walked back to his office, muttering the password to his trusty gargoyles.
Snape, Draco, and Voldemort were standing by the fireplace, about to Floo out. Snape spun around, hearing Dumbledore's footsteps.
"I see you have returned to us, Headmaster," he said silkily. Draco and Voldemort turned around.
"Ah, yes, Severus - I just stopped by for lunch in..."
Snape cut across him. "What's that you're holding?"
Dumbledore looked down at the book.
"Oh, I found this for Hermione in a bookstore I'm rather fond of – I gave it to her in the halls but she threw it at my head and yelled 'Screw you Dumbledore' in the Great Hall. Quite amusing actually."
"What book is it to get the Mud - Granger so upset?" Draco asked, although not really caring.
Dumbledore handed it to him. Draco stopped to read the cover; Voldemort, holding a fistful of Floo powder in his hand, and Snape bent over Draco's shoulder.
"Romeo and Juliet" scrolled across the book in big fancy letters, followed underneath with "The famous love story by William Shakespeare."
Voldemort blinked; it sounded familiar...he remembered reading it, way back during those long boring summers at the muggle orphanage. A bit too mushy for him – stupid sappy love stories - sounded like a Dumbledore-type-of- book alright (although he liked all the deaths – two servants, Mercutio, Tybalt, Paris, Lady Montague, Romeo, and Juliet, as he last recalled).
He whipped out his wand and whispered "Incendio" – the book burst into flame in Draco's hands and burned down to ashes. Draco winced, staring down at his hands which were now red from the fire.
"What was that for?" Snape asked. "I'm no romance-fan myself, but burning Shakespeare?"
"Do you dare question your master?" Voldemort asked dangerously, pointing his wand at Snape's chest.
Dumbledore watched the proceedings amusedly, as usual – Draco was helping himself to some Floo powder. Snape answered the Dark Lord with a 'no' before walking out of Dumbledore's office, headed towards his rooms. Voldemort threw the Floo powder in the fire and walked into the green flames, yelling 'The Riddle House' as he did so.
Meanwhile, as soon as Hermione reached Hogwart's boundaries, which wasn't long, as she was running, she dissapparated. She appeared moments later in her room by the fireplace. She sank down in a comfy armchair, head in her hands. She suddenly felt very old. She started shaking, and tears leaked from her eyes.
She had just graduated a month ago – she had her life ahead of her, she was free to do whatever she wanted – travel, fight in the war, research and invent or discover something, teach, write, become an Animagus...whatever she wanted now that she wasn't bound by schoolwork and being a minor.
She had thought of marriage before, but she didn't want it just yet – and when she was younger she had always fancied marrying a Prince Charming, a Mr. Right – a man who could support her, protect her, /love/ her...as time went on, that vision shifted to a new light as she started recognizing potential candidates at Hogwarts...she saw herself marrying Ron or Harry eventually, although she crossed Ron off the list when she realized how immature he was. Harry was a potential...he was strong enough mentally, physically, spiritually, financially, etc, to support and protect her. And she knew he would love her in return – if she opened up her feelings and extended her heart to him, she knew Harry wouldn't refuse – he would only love her back –
And less than an hour ago, she lost all that. Lost it. Oh sure, she was married now, but it wasn't bliss now. It was a curse. And it was a simple matter of the husband – with Harry she could see pure wedded bliss. With Malfoy, Snape, and Voldemort, she saw a curse – she saw herself being chained to them, iron trapping her wrists and feet and throat, welded to an iron chain held perhaps gleefully by her husband. Under magical marriage law, when the groom kissed his bride, a bond developed between them, although legally, the man had power over his spouse; a remainder from Medieval times, just like the fact that a woman took her husbands last name and lost her identity when she married.
Hermione cringed at the thought – 'Mrs. Hermione Malfoy'? 'Mrs. Hermione Snape'? 'Mrs. Hermione Riddle'?
In her mind, she saw several nightmares play out as a result of her marriage. An abusive husband. One that ignored her. One that cheated on her. Or raped her. Or enslaved her. Or tortured her or killed her or yelled at her or insulted her...She could see all within the range of either. With Draco it'd be sexual abuse. With Snape it'd be verbal abuse. With Voldemort it'd be physical abuse. Neither was desirable.
She saw herself forbidden from seeing Harry ever again, forbidden from talking to Dumbledore, dragged down into a world of purebloods, Slytherins, Death Eaters, Dark Arts, a shadow cast on her once light-filled life.
What would people's reactions be? What would Harry or Ron say? Would they still be friends with her, or desert her as a traitor, the way most of the wizarding world surely would? Would her husband's "friends" accept her, or be wary of her as a potential spy, or see her as her husband's whore?
She was still a virgin....and Magical Law decreed you had to consummate your marriage within six months – of course there was always the chance her husband would ignore that, but it wasn't likely.
She grimaced and a small sob escaped her lips as she mulled over the strings attached to her newly-acquired freedom. Her freedom of which there was only three months left – three months left to survive.
Until she was stuck in a living hell awaiting her death.
She wiped her tears away and sat up. Death. That was an attractive option. Kill herself and she wouldn't face years of mental/physical/emotional damage and torture through her future spouse, her soul-mate.
She went to bed that night on an empty stomach, having no appetite. She tossed and turned, unable to sleep. She kept picturing Snape's sneering pale hook-nosed face surrounded by greasy black hair...Draco's smirking pale pointed face and platinum-blonde hair...Voldemort's livid pale snake- nosed face...faces swimming in front of her...
She heard their voices in her ears as if they were right next to her – an arrogant drawl, a silky baritone, a high cold whisper...
Their eyes stared at her in the darkness – cold red snake-like black eyes like endless steel-gray eyes...
Never wavering...
Memories replayed in her head – the time Malfoy called her 'mudblood', the time her buckteeth enlargened and Snape said 'I see no difference', the time Voldemort tortured her for information about Harry, just last year...when Snape called her an 'insufferable know-it-all'...when she, Ron, and Harry (it hurt thinking about them) made a Polyjuice potion thinking Malfoy was the heir of Slytherin...going to the Department of Mysteries to fight off Voldemort...hearing about Harry's visions and recounts of his memorable episodes at the end of each year...the shock people had whenever she said 'Voldemort' – how he was talked about in hushed tones as if he might be on the other side of the door listening...seeing Voldemort's name in the books, Malfoy in the papers, Snape in potions journals...his spiky handwriting on her homework...Malfoy and Snape's snide-comments and insults directed at her...hearing Dumbledore, Harry, the Weasleys, Sirius, and others talk about what Voldemort's up to, Snape's latest potion's assignment or report from a DE meeting, whether or not Malfoy will follow in his father's footsteps and his father's influence in the ministry...
Countless memories causing her pain, times that have hurt her over the years. Life would be so easy if everyone was in their own little bubble, in their own little world, instead of interacting with everyone else and offering their two-cents whether it's wanted or not...
If only life were that simple. But no, it's hard-wired in humans to need others to survive – there's a biological need for others to interact with, whether it's a lover, parent, friend, professor, enemy, stranger...
At last, Hermione fell asleep, just as it was near daybreak.
She awoke late the next day, around eleven. Over a late breakfast, she came to terms with a simple fact. She had three months of freedom left. Why waste it on brooding over what was to come in the future instead of enjoying it while she could?
She resolved to focus her life on other things besides the change her life would take, no matter how hard it would be to – well, not necessarily forget, just put on the back-burner in her subconscious...
As for the option of killing herself, she thought it just wouldn't be Gryffindor to do so – and there was the satisfaction that her life became a living hell because of marriage, her husband's would also.
She felt much happier after that thought.
So life continued as usual.
