Summary
Hermione had lived this life since she could form memories. A life of servitude to a wealthy pureblood family. She sometimes dreamt of escape. She almost did but when her mistress is set to marry a man who is basically royalty, her life takes a turn. For the better or worse she wasn't sure.
Draco feels nothing for his mate but feels a lot for her servant. It makes no sense to him.
A dramione fic.
Hermione took extra care in hemming the dress Mrs. Parkinson had ordered her to work on. Pansy Parkinson, her daughter stood looking as bored as she could.
"Oh my darling little flower, your magic has finally bloomed so beautifully," Mrs. P gushed. "Hurry up mudblood, the celebration starts in one hour."
Hermione nodded.
She had been in the Parkinson family's "care" for over 5 years now. She had become accustomed to life as a servant. It really was all she ever knew. How to cook for, clean and tutor her masters' young , annoying daughter.
She still remembered the day they came for her.
They had taken her when she was 3. She was almost four. Her parents were downstairs packing her things for a trip to America. They were going to celebrate her fourth birthday at Disneyland. She was putting her favorite stuffy into her backpack, it was the task her mum had given her and because she was a good listener, she did it happily. But Then her father suddenly shouted and there were two quick green flashes. She stood up to go check but a man met her at her door. He was a tall and scary fat man.
He had a wide toothy grin and was dressed so oddly. But it was the way he looked at her that scared her.
"Ooh a little girlie eh," he had said. "My lucky day."
He took a step forward . She remembered how afraid she was but then another man stepped in and held him back. He was terrifying as well but not as menacing.
"Don't even think about it Goyle," he said. "She's a child. Still a sprog. I will take her. "
"Always ruining my fun, dirty half blood..."
The nasty man continued on while the scarier one pointed a stick (his wand, she would later realize) and rendered her unconscious.
She had woken up in a strange room with other children. Most older. But all could do the strange things she could. They were wizards, the ugly caretaker explained, but their abilities were stolen and each and every one of them was a dirty thief. A muddy blooded freak. So this was their punishment.
She never liked the caretaker lady. Luckily she was only there a few weeks before Mr. Parkinson had purchased her and she became a servant to the Parkinson family.
Mr. Parkinson was not too bad. He let her have good food and gave her nice clothes. He would talk to her and even let her have an education. She felt safe with him.
Mrs. Parkinson however, well she was awful. She would call her awful names, hit her for the tiniest of mistakes, and was always letting her know how she was lucky to have been taken in by them.
Mrs. Parkinson was unpleasant but she was nowhere near as unpleasant as Pansy, the Parkinsons daughter who liked to make her life as awful as she could.
From pushing her into the ice cold pond by their home to using a lighter to burn her clothes while she was in them. Pansy was her true enemy.
But to be fair, she knew she was "luckier" than other muggleborns.
She had read from the books in the library that there had been a war around the time she had been born. The outcome of that war had been the literal enslavement of her "kind". She found that concept to be utterly repugnant.
Having to be taken from her loving parents then forced to serve a family, have her magic limited and her true education stolen all because her parents were muggles. Well she found it evil. But unfortunately there was nothing she could do. She was only 9 years old after all. So she continued working on the dress. Pansy was picking invisible dirt off her nails.
Hermione sighed. She knew In a sense, she had been lucky. She knew that many muggle borns would die from the abuse their pureblood families would unleash on them and many other muggleborns were stuck in workshops disguised as orphanages. She had been "lucky" enough to have been chosen by Mr. Parkinson, who had apparently taken a liking to her advanced vocabulary. Or at least that's how he explained it to anyone who asked why he picked her
He knew his daughter would struggle academically and so he had taken her in with the plan to teach her and then have her tutor his daughter.
And so it was done, however unsuccessfully, as Pansy really could not grasp the majority of her studies. But Hermione still tried her best. At least she got some knowledge out of it.
Hermione knew she had stumbled upon a generally okay life for herself. She did find it terribly unfair that she had so much knowledge but no practical use for it (well at least not publicly) and pansy had the freedom to apply the knowledge Hermione shared with her but was lacking in capability.
But all in all, Hermione knew it could be worse. She was at the very least safe.
Something smacked her hand.
"Back to work filth."
She nodded.
Mrs. Parkinson had been so proud at her daughter's display of magic, however lackluster it had been, that she decided to host a ball in Pansies' honor.
Up until now, the Parkinsons had mostly kept Pansy isolated from the other sacred 28 her age. Or perhaps the fear that the 9 year old was a squib kept them away.
But nonetheless Pansy was indeed a witch and now she could finally socialize fully with the other children.
And even though she was already friends with the Greengrass girls who had similar issues, the Goyles and the Crabbes as well, they hardly mattered. Those families , as said by Mrs. Parkinson, while still sacred 28, were just not that impressive (like their own family, Hermione liked to think).
No, it was the more prominent families like the Notts and the Malfoys that were important. And to finally be able to mingle amongst those snakes, well that was cause for a celebration.
A celebration Hermione helped set up, helped in the kitchen for had lost days of sleep preparing for, only to have her hand forced onto a piece of metal heated up with a spell by Mrs. Parkinson for getting a pin drop of her filthy blood on her precious daughter's hideous frilly dress.
It wasn't even Hermione's fault. When had smacked her hand, she pricked her finger on her needle.
She tried not to scream but when her fingers started to blister, she couldn't hold it back.
"Stop it Roza," Mr. Parkinson yelled as he ran in.
He pushed his wife away and took Hermione's little hand, quickly placing a cold water spell to soothe the burning flesh.
Glaring at his wife he then called an elf.
"You are the one who opted to have Hermione hem Pansies dress instead of having a seamstress do it. She's never hemmed in anything before. It's cruel to set up a child for failure in the hope you can torture her. If you try to throw away that dress I will cancel this ridiculous party. I couldn't care less of the embarrassment it would cause us. "
Mr. Parkinson pulled her away and handed her off to one of the nurse elves while the Lady of the house argued with her husband.
Hermione followed the sweet elf to the nursing quarters. The party she was sure would be a success and soon it would be over and in a matter of time Pansy would be off to Hogwarts where the Nott and Malfoy boys were apparently ruling like kings. Hermione hoped she would quickly marry one of them and be out of her hair.
Hermione looked forward to a calmer future. One where her potential could be quietly wasted reading the books Mr. Parkinson would leave her. At least it would be safe
end
