A/N- Hey guys sorry for the long update time, truth is I only finished this chapter yesterday and then sent it to my awesome beta Regency. Because she's so awesome she had it returned by this morning I read it did my personal final touches and here it is. A few quick notes this story is AU, and characters are slightly OOC if your really into the traditional character exactly how they are portrayed in the book you may be disappointed a little :(. I write the characters how I see them in my mind after reading the books many times.
Disclaimer- The characters are obviously not mine, those belong to the fab JK Rowling.
Chapter 2- I'm cold as cold can be
Hermione quickly made her way home after gathering the rest of her supplies, and packing them neatly away in the new trunk she had bought. When she arrived home her father wasn't there. Not very surprising since this was his usual time to kick off his drinking for the day. Chances were that he had a prime spot at a bar counter at a bar within walking distance.
Hermione pulled her trunk upstairs, towards her bedroom so it would be out of the sight of her father. It would only anger him to see the proof that she was going to leave him just as her mother had, the only difference being that Hermione would be leaving by choice, not by death.
Hermione had gotten back from Diagon Alley much sooner than she had anticipated, and it left her far too much time to think about things. She had roughly an hour left before her father would be home, so she pondered. She pondered the question that was now on her mind: Was she really just a worthless mudblood? Did she really taint the Wizarding World with germs and was she nothing more than a black mark on the name of wizard, as Malfoy often said?
Time must have slipped away from her because before she knew it she heard a banging noise come from downstairs that was immediately followed by screaming. This didn't faze Hermione in the slightest for that was the routine: get smashed, be kicked out of that night's bar for starting a fight, walk home, swing the door open to a point where it's lucky to still be on the hinges, whack his foot on the sofa and then who could forget the grand finale? Beat his only daughter to a pulp.
You may want to ask why her father would do such a thing, the truth was that he truly couldn't afford to loose the only thing good left in his life. This was his way of forcing her to stay, or so he thought.
She heard his heavy footsteps coming up the stairs, and quickly snuggled into her bed to give the appearance of sleeping. Because maybe, just maybe if he thought she was asleep he would leave her alone. Even though she deserved all that came her way, she desperately hoped he would just think that enough was enough for a change. No such luck.
Hermione woke up the next morning, and rolled over in her bed, wincing as she felt last night's effects full blast. She was almost certain that her shoulder had been dislocated, and the pain seemed to mock her, pin and needles running through her stiff body.
She felt nothing but an almost comfortable numbness, for last night she had finally lost the rest of the battle; she had accepted what her father had been telling her the whole time as the truth.
She was worthless.
You're worthless Hermione Granger, Absolutely worthless.
Today was the day she would board the train that would take her to the rest of her life. She was running and never looking back. She was only moving forward from here on out.
All her things were packed up and all she had left to do was to get dressed. She put on some old jeans that fit her after an altering spell along with an off-the-shoulder white sweater. You may question why she would wear an off the shoulder sweater, but the truth of the matter was that all her clothes hung off her body limply somewhere. Nothing special of course, because she wasn't special and she didn't deserve anything mind blazingly stunning or simply anything special.
As she looked in the mirror, she realized that even though she was used to seeing the scratches and the bruises, the rest of the world wasn't. She was still the saint of Gryffindor who was perfect and had everything in life easy. She fumbled with the clasp on her trunk and dug through its contents until she found the book she had been looking for, 1000 Glamour's for Today's Witch. She flipped through the book till she found a page on scars & blemishes and how to make them invisible to all eyes save for a few.
She wished that she could simply banish them, but the best charm she could find was one that would hide them from most people, This was just a book for teen witches it wouldn't contain intricate spells such as those needed to cover abuse. The spell she chose would cover her body until midnight tonight; all it did was apply a foundation like layer of cover-up over her entire body. If someone really took the time to look they could surely see the damage. She decided she would simply search the restricted section at Hogwarts tonight far after curfew.
She thought this glamour would be enough, for today anyways.
The manor was cold and empty, the same as everyday in Malfoy manor. Well, since his mother had died anyway. Okay, not really died, more like been brutally murdered by her very own husband, the infamous Lucius Malfoy.
Draco rolled over and groaned when his eyes met the bright sun sneaking into his room through the parted curtains. His groan, half annoyance at the sun, half agony from the broken rib he was sporting. Lucius had been furious when he had come home from the Death Eater meeting and who else was there to take his wrath but his son.
This was just a normal day to Draco though. Wake up, cast a few healing charms, maybe brew a healing potion, and finish it off with a glamour charm to hide all of the evidence.
A small voice inside of Draco asked, "Why not tell someone? Why not save yourself?" Then, of course his rational side kicked in. No one at Hogwarts would understand his problems. They all went home over their breaks to the warm embraces of their loving parents, a steaming home cooked feast; and a warm, soft bed to rest their head for the night. They didn't come home to a brutal, emotionless bastard who pledged everything to what was quite possibly the most revolting thing Draco had ever seen in his life, Lord Voldemort. They weren't tossed into the dungeons with the rest of the prisoners, and they most certainly were not used as a test dummy for the new Dark Arts spells Death Eaters were creating by the day, he of course only got the non-lethal ones, after all his father couldn't kill off his precious heir.
Today, he left for Hogwarts. This would give him a purpose in life even if it only lasted until the Christmas break. He was free from his father and all the other binds that held him, except for his reputation as nothing more than a stuck up, Pureblood prat. In reality, all he was looking for was good, intelligent conversation. All those times he had fought with Granger had really only been un-friendly banter to him, no real hate. She seemed to be the only one who could match his wit and intellect. No matter the situation, she always had a witty response.
After he had packed and silently flooed out of the manor, he made his way to Platform 9 ¾, anticipating the long peaceful train ride to Hogwarts. That's when she struck him. Hermione Granger had accidentally tripped over his trunk and was now sprawled across the grimy floor. Fleetingly he'd thought to question who was going to be Head Girl, but the gleaming badge pinned to Granger's chest sufficiently answered that question and seemed to be silently mocking him at the same time.
Upon noticing Granger was still struggling to push herself up off the ground, he offered a hand. It wasn't exactly the Malfoy attitude but he and granger had to see each other everyday of the upcoming school year and he was not going to kick it off fighting with the he- weasel and the boy who refused to die over something as trivial as this, and maybe just maybe something in the back of his head told him that he should do it What do people call that? Oh, yeah, a conscience.
The clumsy girl surprised him when she actually accepted his help, and shocked him even further when he didn't even have to strain to lift her body from the ground. That seemed to only increase his confusion; the witch was lighter than his bloody trunk. That lead him to question what she weighed, it couldn't be much more then 90 pounds. Before he had time to compose himself Granger had managed to compose herself and run through the barrier, but as he'd watched her body disappear through the brick wall, he could have sworn he saw a hand-shaped bruise wrapped around the back of her neck.
He shrugged it off as a lack of sleep over the summer and hurried through after her, maybe he would question her on the train. After all, they shared the Heads' compartment.