Hermione was sure her Master would order her lashing after her insolence. Her eyes never closed during the rest of that night, thinking about how she was going to tell Eirene that she had failed to fulfil her duties. That all the effort the old woman had put in raising her was going to trash because she had refused to fall into her Master's arms. But what was she supposed to do? Follow him blindly into his bed, as she had witnessed many women do, was not one of her options. She wasn't looking for something more than a bed and a decent meal until the day in which she was released from the castle came, if it ever came. She didn't want any favors from him, she didn't want money or power. In her eyes, she had no good reason to please his desires. Wasn't that the job of the women that were sent into his chambers every other night?

But the lashing never came.

She continued to tend him, following his every step, every hour of the day. But it seemed that his new favorite hobby was making her life impossible. Calling her in the middle of the night just to hand him the glass of water that was in his bedside table, purposely bumping into her so she dropped the tea tray, making her do wrong in front of the Queen and enjoying how she would be scolded, the corners of his lips lifting in a smirk as the Queen raised her voice at her, calling her names.

Closing the trunk, she sighed. She folded two more of his shirts and packed them. Hermione was hoping that going away for the rest of the summer would ease her Master's bad mood. She had heard him mention a couple of times his love for the sea and the beach. And lately it seemed that after spending all day with Astoria he was ready to release his anger on Hermione as she got him ready for bed.

It was late in the afternoon, and the carriages were getting ready to leave. Hermione saw how servants loaded up the belongings of the Royal family, as well as the ones from the Greengrass', the Nott's and other Houses that were invited to spend summer in the palace by the south sea.

"Lady Hermione!" a voice called behind her, as she climbed the two steps to get into the carriage with the other Ladies.

She turned to face the source of the voice. A tall, dark-haired man was running in her direction. His green eyes fixated on her. "Lord Potter," she bowed, greeting the King's adviser and right hand.

"His Highness the Prince is asking to see you immediately," he took her hand in his, helping her off the carriage.

"But he is travelling with Lady Greengrass, and I made sure everything was right for the night of travel," she said, but Lord Potter didn't reply. The horses' hooves clacked against the road as the first carriages left the castle grounds.

Lord Potter softly pushed her up into the Prince's cart, closing the door behind her and commanding the other carriages to go pass the gates. Her Master was looking outside the window as she sat opposite from him, her hands resting in her lap playing nervously with the fabric of her dress.

"Is something wrong, Master? I did just how you ordered me and followed Lady Greengrass' instructions as well…" she trailed off as one of his fingers went up, telling her to be quiet.

"I'm travelling alone tonight. I can't stand Astoria one fucking second more," he turned to see her, his silver eyes tired. "And since Eirene is going with my mother, you are the only person I trust to travel with me."

Hermione nodded, but didn't reply. The carriage started to move, they both stayed still, not looking at one another. Hermione felt claustrophobic locked in the carriage with him. It could perfectly fit eight people, but somehow it seemed that he was way too close to her. His platinum blond hair falling into his forehead, messy. His silver eyes staring at the kingdom they left behind. He may not be King yet, but he loved his people, and intended to rule with a firm but kind hand. And the Aerglo people knew it.

Hours went by as the darkness of the night settled in the sky, her Master sat next to her, before lying down with his head on her thighs. He closed his eyes and snuggled next to her, making himself comfortable.

A small smile tugged Hermione's lips, he looked like a small child. Her fingers found his platinum hair, softly scratching his scalp as she ran her fingers through his hair. She muttered a lullaby until his breaths went slow and deep, falling asleep in her lap while she stared at the stars shining in the sky.

Draco saw how his mother pushed Hermione, making her drop one of the emblems that were supposed to be pinned in his jacket. "You are completely useless! My son was supposed to be downstairs half an hour ago!"

Hermione quickly pined the emblems on his left side, right above his heart.

"I'm sorry your High—" she tried to apologize, but before she could finish Narcissa slapped her across the face, hard. The sound of the smack echoing in the room as her right cheek turned a deep shade of red, Narcissa's fingers printed on her skin. "Do wrong again and I will have you lashed to death."

Not another word left her lips as she placed the Prince's crown over his head, softly brushing platinum hair out of his forehead. Draco saw how she swallowed her pride and humiliation, her eyes bright with anger. His mother left the room, storming into the halls, making her way towards the gardens and he followed her, not looking at his Lady. It was his fault they were late. Hermione had been trying to get him ready, but he had spent all the time teasing her and walking around the room making her job impossible. And now the left side of her face was swollen because of him.

The brown eyed girl followed him a few steps behind, her eyes fixed on the floor.

They reached the garden, the ocean so close that the sound of the waves engulfed the air. Summer had blossomed all flowers, bathing the garden's bushes in a colorful swirl. Draco took a deep breath. Salty and blessed smell of the ocean filling his lungs.

Astoria was already waiting for him, standing in the middle of all the guests, wearing a green and silver gown. His House colors, how wonderful of his bride. She looked elegant with her hair pulled up, diamonds adorning her neck, her head held high as if the crown was already resting on her head.

Powerful Lords and Ladies from powerful houses were enjoying the best wine money could buy as they waited for the ceremony to start. They didn't care for the Ring Ceremony, they didn't care about his wedding. They cared to be on the right side of the King, and as he was up to fulfil that duty in the near future, they were almost licking the ground he stepped on.

He stood in front of the green-eyed woman destined to be his wife. This was so stupid. Their parents had planned the alliance since before they could talk, and yet he was about to do the Ring Ceremony because it was tradition.

Taking the ring out of his pocket, he took her hand in his. "Lady Astoria of House Greengrass," he looked around, everyone watching them expectantly, "may you do me the honor of becoming my wife. To help me in my future duties, to lead the Kingdom of Aerglo on the best path, to unify our houses and produce an Heir that shall continue with the legacy our Houses have left."

He slid the ring on her finger and kissed her hand before the priest blessed their union, announcing that the wedding would be next spring. He shifted his gaze from his bride-to-be and his eyes stopped on Hermione. Her fingers slightly touching the sore area on her cheek. She didn't look away, her eyes burning with the want of revenge. One that she would never have.

It was very late at night, or very early in the morning, when her Master finally climbed (or better said dragged himself) up the stairs to his chamber. Hermione was waiting for him, sitting on a chair by the window. Her chest still felt heavy with hate, anger and humiliation. Was this part of being a Lady? Or maybe she was the only one suffering this? Long forgotten were the times when she wished no more that to be a Lady of the Court, attend parties and flirt with Lords. Now she was feeling so miserable that the dark kitchen and watery broth looked welcoming. How ironic was that in order to have a better life, a better opportunity, she had to endure a miserable life?

Her Master stumbled into the room, too drunk to even walk. He had been complaining about his engagement to Astoria since they had arrived at the summer Palace, a month ago, but he seemed to have enjoyed the Ring Ceremony party more than the bride.

"Hermioneeee!" He yelled, dragging the e a little too much. He had not noticed her presence in the room.

"I'm right here, Master. No need to raise your voice."

He turned to see her, his silver eyes shining with something she had never seen, something mischievous, almost evil. She approached him, taking off the crown adorning his head. Putting him to sleep when he was drunk was a challenge, it was going to be a long night. Hermione walked over to the dressing table, putting away the gold crown into the velvet box.

She felt when he stepped closer, his chest against her back as his arm encircled her waist, his hand pressing her towards him. "I think you own me something," he whispered, his hot breath behind her head.

Hermione's blood ran cold, her heart hammering in her chest. "I don't know what you're talking about, Master."

"Oh, you know." He spun her with a swift move, clutching her between his arms and pinning her against the dressing table.

Hermione struggled in his grip, fighting to be released, but he only held her tighter. With his left hand he grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. He smelled strongly like alcohol and his skin was burning against hers. She tried to push him away, failing again. Her hands pressed hard into his chest, panic rising in her gut. Draco only smirked at her poor attempts to run away.

He dipped his head to kiss her. Hermione pressed her lips together, not wanting to grant him entrance, but he kissed her anyways, trying to force her to open her mouth and accept her fate. His hands roamed her body, up and down, grabbing everything they could. Tears prickled her eyes, threatening to fall. But she was not going to cry, she was not going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

As minutes passed, Hermine gave up, staying still as he still kissed her. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. Again, she had been foolish in thinking he had forgotten about the library incident. He hadn't forgotten, he was waiting for the right moment, like a wolf staying in the dark to capture their prey.

But thanks to the gods above, the door to his chamber flew open. Eirene entered the bedroom, carrying a tray with freshly prepared tea, knowing the Prince would need it to sober up. Hermione heard how the old woman gasped at the sight in front of her. Surely the sight of the Prince forcefully kissing her while his hands went crazy over her body was not what she expected to see.

Her Master's arms fell to his sides, releasing her. And before he could change his mind, Hermione shoved him to the side running pass Eirene, into the dark halls of the castle. She felt like she couldn't breathe, the hot air of summer burning her lungs. She ran blindly, just trying to get as far away as she could from him. She wanted to drown in the ocean. The dark blue waves were almost calling her. And her feet obeyed as they took her down the halls towards the back door, just a short walk away from the sea.

Hermione abruptly stopped when she reached the back door. It was open, and no guards were there. She covered her mouth with her hand, trying to muffle the sounds of her erratic breath. In between the shadows and just illuminated by the moon glow stood Lord Potter. And he was not alone. In front of him stood Lord Longbottom. He wasn't even supposed to know the King was in this palace. And Lord Potter was supposed to be back at the city, to keep an eye on the kingdom while the Royal family was absent.

She stood by the door, shocked, not knowing what to do. Lord Longbottom handed the King's right hand an envelope, and he returned the favor by handing the tall, pale, dark-haired man a small bag full of gold. She didn't understand why Lord Potter would meet with one of the enemies of the Crown. Weren't not all loyal servants of the Crown forbidden to speak about his Highness with the people that wanted his head?

She felt dizzy, her head spinning. It was too much for her to handle. Her Master trying to get her way with her and Lord Potter being a… Traitor to the Crown?

One foot behind the other, Hermione tried to make her way back into the palace. But Lord Potter turned in her direction and saw her before she could back away from the door. Immediately he understood that she had seen the exchange. Her brown eyes opened in amusement as she tried to escape the scene. But Potter was faster and more astute. He grabbed her by the shoulders, painfully digging his fingers into her skin.

"What did you see?" he asked, angrily, between his teeth.

"No—Nothing," she shuddered under his grip.

His green eyes stared into her own, so intensely she wished to die right there and then. "You are to tell no one what you saw. Understood? Or I'll command your public execution for telling his Highness secrets."

Lord Potter pushed her out of his way, as he entered the castle. Hermione fell to the cold hard floor. She dragged herself up, walking quickly outside to the sea. Her feet buried in the sand as she desperately walked into the ocean. The ice-cold water reaching her waist, the dress heavy around her legs. Every step she took felt like knives were penetrating her skin, reaching her bones. How could the water be so cold on a hot summer night?

Her body started to numb, as she rushed further into the sea. The water just below her breasts. Hermione couldn't take it any longer. She bent over and emptied her stomach, not being able to hold anything. The sour flavor burning her throat as thick liquid made its way out of her body.

Her head was spinning, but she felt so light that she welcomed the blackness that dragged her as she fainted, her body falling into the water, dragged by the waves.

Draco shook his head, trying to erase the horrible memories of that awful night.

It all started with guards rushing down the tallest watchtower, yelling for the other guards to go out to the beach. They had spotted someone. The commotion quickly shook the palace. Those who were still awake stormed out of their rooms. And Draco had been one of them.

Eirene was trying to calm everyone down, telling Ladies to return with their respective Lords and to not wake anyone. He had made his way down the stairs, barefoot in his nightgown, and with a huge headache. He saw how everyone returned to their chambers, not caring for what had happened as Eirene had announced that it was not a matter that concerned the King or his safety.

But Draco stood there, half way down the main stairs, and he saw how three guards entered the vestibule, coming from the hall that led to the back courtyard, soaked in water. The salty smell of the ocean hovering over them. And behind them another guard, carrying the lifeless body of Hermione.

Her skin was drained of all color, lips a nasty shade of purple and blue. Her light blue dress dripping water as it stuck to her body. She was not breathing as her chest didn't move and water was coming out of her mouth.

Eirene ran towards her, as she spoke quietly with the guards. Draco just stood there, motionless as he watched how they took her away.

It had been a week since that and Hermione had still not returned to his command.

Draco knew she was alive, Eirene had told him that she was healing. That Hermione would soon be serving him again. But Draco knew that Eirene was delaying her return. And he couldn't blame her. She loved Hermione as a daughter and seeing him in such a compromising position with her had indeed shocked Eirene, even if she hadn't mentioned a single word.

He threw the letters he was trying to read over the desk. His brain couldn't attend Royal business when thinking about the strange beauty that should be sitting by his side, waiting for him to finish. The sun was setting behind the ocean, the sky painted of a rich deep orange that was slowly turning to red. He leaned against the window, pressing his forehead against the hot glass.

And his soul filled with joy, that quickly turned to anger, as he saw chestnut curls bouncing on the far end of the gardens, close to the rampart.

His feet quickly stepped out of the drawing room, taking him out into the gardens as he walked furiously between bushes. He stalked pass two bushes, moving the branches away with such force that they snapped.

And Hermione was, in fact, there. Her hair free of the usual clips, soft curls dancing in the wind. She was not wearing her usual teal dress, instead a simple, short white cotton dress covered her body. Hermione walked along the bushes, her fingertips brushing the leaves and roses. She was walking so freely, like she wasn't under his command. On top of that, she was barefoot, like a simple peasant. Like she didn't live under the same roof as him. His veins pulsed with acrimony.

"What are you doing here?" Draco spat venom, staring at her.

"Enjoying summer, Master," she simply said, not turning to see him and continuing her path alongside the flowers. Was she really that sadistic?

"If you can enjoy summer, then you are completely capable of attending your duties. Why the fuck aren't you up there," he pointed to the castle, exasperated, "serving me?"

She turned to face him. Her face was calm, plump lips showing a small smile. Hermione lifted a brow, mocking him. Draco felt how his breath got hotter as fury numbed his brain.

"I am healing, Master. You may not know it, but we mortals need time to heal after we almost face death."

She was mocking him. She was fucking laughing at him. She was questioning the power the gods had laid in his House to lead the Kingdom. That infuriating woman.

Hermione stepped closer and he was sure she could feel the anger irradiating from him.

"Are you questioning my power?" he hissed.

"I would never do such thing, Master," she pretended to be offended as she placed a hand on her chest, batting her eyelashes. "How could I, a simple servant, scum that sticks to your foot, question his Royal Highness the Prince?"

Her head tilted, so she now was staring at his eyes. Her face was calm, but her eyes were bleeding anger and hatred. He stepped closer to her, now just a breath away, clenching his jaw.

"Be careful with your mouth, you could regret it," he spoke through gritted teeth.

"I may regret many things, but you may sleep tonight, Master, knowing that I won't regret a word that is coming from my lips. Even if I shall pay the price with my life. Because you, like everyone of your kind, look down at us like animals you can sacrifice when you don't like our behavior."

The venom in her voice stroke him like a horse. He fisted his hands, trying to control his anger. He was this close to killing her, right there, with his bare hands.

Hermione noticed his fists and stood a little taller as she spoke. "Hit me."

Draco blinked a couple of times, perplexed.

"What?"

"If you want to hit me, Master, hit me. Be a man, as you father says, and hit me. I'm nothing but a slave to your command. And you would not be the first, and certainly not the last, to lay a hand on me. So, hit me. Kill me. Take whatever you want from me. I don't care anymore. Hit me until I bleed to death, and my life would be another that succumbed upon your kind."

Her breath was erratic, her chest rising and falling sharply against his. He could almost see red, rage filling his veins up to the point of almost making them burst. His breath crashing against her face. His mind was running wild, with every different possible outcome. He couldn't control his body; his anger was leading his mind and actions. Draco lifted his hand, grabbing her by the collar of her dress, fisting the fabric in his hand, holding her in place. She didn't flinch, Hermione didn't stop looking at his silver eyes for a second. And before he could think about it, it happened.

He lowered himself, so he was at her eye level.

And kissed her.

Not like the first time, not with the anger of drunkenness, not the fury and roughness of that time. He kissed her with the hatred he felt for wanting her so much. With the exasperation he felt for her insolence. With the resentment he felt for her being so different from the other Ladies. With the fury he felt for tolerating Astoria every second of the day. With the rage this woman provoked on him, and worst, with wrath he felt for not being able to get rid of her or posses her and end everything for once and for all.

Hermione pushed him away, their lips pulled apart, but he held her in place.

"How dare you provoke me like that?" he questioned, anger palpable in his voice.

"It's not my problem what you feel about me, Master."

"You returned the kiss," he pointed out, furrowing his brows.

Hermione simply shook her head as she forced his hands away from her body. "It would be a shame someone saw you," she nodded at the shadows that indicated that people were approaching.

Draco let go of her, and turned on his heels, marching back to the palace.

A/N: Thanks to everyone that had been supportive! This chapter is for you! Tell me what you think about the chapter and what you think will happen next in the Kingdom of Aerglo.

Sooooo welllllllll... they kissed. I know it's not dark and blah blah blah. But this is a romance story. Not a mushy romance, but romance in the end. Don't worry, chapters are going to get darker and more pg-18. Just wanted to gift you with a little piece of heaven before hell breaks loose.