The Similarities of Love and Hate

By Caitlin Wasson

Disclaimer: If I were J.K. Rowling, would I waste my time writing fanfiction on my own creation?

Chapter Six

The Fine Line

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She was on the ground. Dirt streaked her face. Twigs and leaves were tangled in her hair. Scrapes and cuts covered her everywhere. Her clothes were in a pile just out of reach. So close, yet so far.

Hermione screamed but no sound came out of her mouth. They had silenced her long ago when they had cast the first curse. Long bouts of Crucio left her twitching in pain and her throat hoarse from the screams that no on could hear. She could not move, as her hands and feet were bound with invisible ropes.

Then he was on top of her.

He'd thrown off his hood so she could see him. With the long silver dagger in his hand, he carved the dark mark into the tender white flesh of her stomach. Hot crimson blood trickled across her abdomen and down over her sides, dripping into the dirt.

The others laughed and encouraged him.

"Break her," Voldemort hissed, watching his newest follower.

Blaise cut long gashes down each of her limbs, crossing at the joints. It was like some sick geometry lesson. Hermione liked math and she tried to pretend the lines on her body were like the lines on the pages of a math book, illustrating angles and tangents and rays. It didn't work.

"Good," murmured a member of the circle whose face she could not see. "The potion."

Blaise pulled a bottle of the most evil looking potion Hermione had ever seen. It glowed green and bright, its light pulsing. She didn't know what it was and she didn't want to know.

She writhed and tried to get away but all of them jut laughed and as the first drop of potion touched the gashes, it was like being lit on fire from the inside. The agony was so complete, she could not move, could not scream, could not breathe. It was so intense, she was sure that she was dying.

Blaise laughed hardest of all at her. "Stupid mudblood." He waved his wand and all the wounds closed except the one on her stomach. Even as they healed, they burned in white-hot agony, the scars bright and livid and swirling in sickening colors. It would have been a relief to pass out but it seemed she couldn't. Something was keeping her awake.

The physical pain was nothing to the emotional pain of what came next as Blaise took off his robe. He was inside her body but she was not. She was floating some where above it all, watching them all from below as the group cheered him on. As he finished, he grunted, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and pulled his pants back up.

"Now, who else wants a try?"

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Hermione woke up screaming. Her breath came in short gasps and tears streamed from her eyes. She'd dreamed about that night again, something she wanted to forget so desperately. Her hands instinctively went to her still mostly flat stomach. The scars that had burned so bright that horrible night were just white lines. Madam Pomfrey said that they would never completely fade because of the potion that had been poured in them. She was forever sentenced to bear the dark mark. It was agony just thinking about that night and that night would stay with her forever.

When her breathing slowed finally, she rolled onto her side to sleep but found that sleep would not come. It was four AM but she got up anyway and padded into the bathroom. The warm water from the shower was comforting and relieved the tension in her muscles. The normal churning of her stomach wasn't there for once.

When she dried off, she stood in front of the mirror, the towel slung around her hips. She could see the scars running down her arms, across her breasts, and the mark carved into her stomach. That sick geometry lesson had faded to thin white lines but the dark mark was puffy and glowed against her pink skin. She traced it with her fingertips, a nauseous feeling rising in her stomach. She felt dirty, unclean even though she had just showered.

"Granger, it is five in the morning. What in the bloody hell are you doing awake?" a tired voice said as Malfoy tripped into the room in green satin boxers.

"Do you have any decency whatsoever?" she demanded, covering her breasts with her arms.

He shrugged. "That's questionable." He looked at her stomach, his face paling slightly at her scars. "Where…?"

"Ask your friend," she told him, turning away to pull a shirt on.

"I don't understand you, Granger," he said. "You insist on keeping the child even though the father gave that scar to you."

"You wouldn't understand," she said, turning to walk out of the bathroom.

"No, I don't," he said. "I want to know why."

"There are several reasons you would never understand, Malfoy," she said.

"Try me," he said, following her.

She turned to face him. Her eyes burned with some unnamed emotion. "Power is the first. I didn't have power when he did that to me but I have it now. I have the power over the life that's growing inside me. I could use that power to kill it but I choose not to do that. I choose to do good and raise this child."

"That can't be it, Granger," Malfoy said. "You're not a Slytherin. Power is not your only motivation here."

"Love, Malfoy," she said simply.

"Love," he repeated. "How can you love this… this… this thing growing inside of you? Isn't it a reminder? Why don't you hate it? Why don't you seek revenge?"

"Of course it's a reminder," she said. "And there is a fine line between love and hate. Love and Hate are the two most passionate human emotions and they always seem to blend into one another. I could hate this child but I love it. It's something you'll never understand."

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Egads that took forever to write! I think it turned out good though so I hope you enjoy.