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A Mudblood's Place	By : WeatherTheStorm Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 9688 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I own any of the characters. I make no money from this.

Chapter List
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~~~{Authors note}~~~ Hello again my lovlies! So here we are with a second chapter, so soon. I tried not to rush this one as much as I feel I rushed the first. Origionally this story ( I'm ashamed to admit) was actually a long process over the past few months, the intial forced scene flowed pretty quickly , but then I struggled trying to give it some meat on its bones. So the end of that chapter feels a bit forced, and rushed to me. I keep revisiting it, and fixing mistakes here and there, but really without constructive feedback, I'm lost, seeing as how my perfectionist brain won't ever be satisfied. For now, moving on with the story. I hope you guys are enjoying it so far! Please again, don't be shy to leave me a review, yes I'm a baby but this baby needs to walk ;)
{updated/edited} 11/18/19
Ch2: The beginning of the end
Normally, Hermione awoke to the sound of the sprung bells attached to the wall above her bed, ringing gently as the house-elves saw to their routine, unseen. It served secondary, as her alarm clock. This morning, however, the soft jingling of the copper bells remained eerily silent and for the first time since she had arrived at the Malfoy Manor, Hermione slept in as the sun crept over the horizon. Sprawled out across her straw mattress, in a mess of tangled legs and bushy hair, Hermione was having a rather wonderful dream. Well really it was more of a memory, of her life before this mess.
One where Harry called down to her from his perch on a broom as the warm, summer sun beat down on her freckled face, his gleeful smile infectious. It was the sort of dream that left you with a deep longing. One that you clung to as you felt consciousness try to drag you back down to reality. She awoke reluctantly to thesound of shoes scraping the stone floor. Although still groggy from sleep, she knew before she could even peel her whiskey-colored eyes open, who the owners of the shoes belonged to and a sense of panic crept down her spine.
All the tiny hairs on her body rose as her skin broke out in goosebumps and her deep, even breaths from sleep drew shallow. Her senses filled as he neared her disheveled form, with the rich leather scent of his expensive, dragon-hide loafers, and the masculine fragrance of his earthy Burberry cologne, until she felt as thoughshe was choking on it. She could even hear the slight limp in his step as he favored one leg over the other. If the weather had been colder she would be able to hear the slight tap of his cane. The cold had a way of making old scars ache. Had he been anyone else she might have considered his old war injury a weakness, but what is a minor limp to a Malfoy?
It didn't bode as a good sign when the Lord of the manor himself took time out of his day to bother the help. Hermione spent much of her time on eggshells as it was. Her gut telling her that her postion here was merely temporary, and that he could see her sins on her skin. The quiet scuff of his shoes stopped just by her head, and hesitantly, Hermione let her eyelids flutter open to stare up at the face of the man, that had been her doom, and yet simultaneously her savior.
Malfoy's molten, silver gaze rested on her with an intensity that was jarring as he loomed over her. It made her consider things that if possible she hated herself even more for, like how he might have turned out if Harry had won instead? For a foul git, he was hauntingly beautiful. Although his personality was less then to be desired. She supposed there had to be something there she wasn't seeing, for his wife to have loved him as much as she had.
She had been as any pure-blooded wife was expected to be, but she was far too kind of a woman to have loved someone who was inherently evil. She knew, that he hadn't been able to kill Dumbledor, did that make him capable of goodness or just a coward? Shaking her head to clear it of all the foggy errant thoughts, Hermione bit back a groan as her sore body protested the movement. Straw matresses didn't have much in the way of support, and she never did get used how sore she was in the it wasn't as if Ron had done her body any favors.
She expected fury when she stared up into those endless depths, what she found was a confusing mix of curiosity and a hint of empathy in his swirling pools of mercury. His face was set with an unreadable amount of tension, as if in concentration, and his lips were curled into somewhat of a half sneer that lacked venom .It was a rather unusual look on him, one she couldn't recall having ever seen. Long tendrils of platinum, baby fine hair were left to carelessly frame his face like a halo, giving him an ethereal glow. From a distance, he could have easily been mistaken for the former lord Malfoy, but up close he held a slight softness that age had not chiseled away.
If she hadn't known what he was capable of, the raw power and danger that hid beneath the picture-perfect mask he wore, she could see herself enthralled with his beauty. He moved stealthfully. lean, coiled muscles rippled under the fabric of his cashmere jumper as he reached towards her, completely unnoticed until his cold elegant fingers ghosted over the bruised hollow of her cheek. He began tracing the now blackened outline with something akin to tenderness. A gasp fell from Hermione's parched lips at the sudden contact of his smooth fingertips, and she recoiled so violently that she launched herself backward into the wall. The stone was unforgiving, and the sickening sound of her skull cracking against it carried throughout the room.
Black spots danced across her vision, as pain wrapped around her entire skull, and made her brain throb in protest. Hermione let out a soft guttural groan as her almond-shaped eyes swam with unshed tears, and she wound her delicate fingers in her Chesnut curls to rub the hastily forming knot on her scalp. Gingerly, she tested the tender skin to see if she had split it open. Pulling her hand away she glanced down to check her fingers for blood. Although her fingers were clean she breifly worried she might have given herself a concusion.
The gentleness in which he had touched her was frightening in itself. The only touch she had ever received from a Malfoy was, to say the least, brutal. It also stood a point, if the master was down here in the cellar, it meant without a shadow of a doubt, she was royally fucked! He cleared his throat as he let his hand fall back to his side, seemingly just as shocked by his own actions as she had been.
"Alright there Granger, take it easy. I can't exactly pump you for information if you give yourself brain damage."
Recognition seemed to light up in his forefront, as though he had reached the answers to his silent pondering. Hermione watched the swirling mercury cloud over to a harsh, stormy grey, and the muscles in his jaw protruded as he clenched his perfect teeth together. She could hear them grinding together from his barely suppressed rage. A vein near his temple began to pulse angerly, and she felt her body leaning as far away from him as she could, on its own accord, at the sudden change in his demeanor. Like a primal part of her knew he was a second away from strangling the life from her body at a moments notice. He was damn scary when he wanted to be.
" I'm only going to ask this once Granger, and it is in your best interest, that you plug up that bleeding heart of yours, and tell me exactly what that ginger, curb crawler weasel has been doing down here with you."
How had he known? If he had seen him coming down here, why hadn't he said anything before? All the color in her faced drained like someone had pulled the stopper on her life force. She felt boneless and she silently prayed she could just melt into her matress and disappear. Malfoy's voice was gruff with the fury she had been expecting initially, and his rich baritone held an edge that he held zero tolerance for anything but the truth.
Straight to the point, unlike in his youth, grown-up Malfoy had very little patience for games. Hermione supposed it had a lot to do with the ever-growing strain of his family responsibilities and the lack of control he had over the deteriorating situation. Or, as much as she loathed to admit it, maybe he had just grown up. The vein in his temple seemed to grow as she paused to answer. She really didn't want to tell him.
Training her gaze down to the floor as a sign of submissive obedience, Hermione swallowed thickly, her throat constricting with fear...this was it...these past few months had simply been a prelude to her inevitable end. Although she rarely ran across him, she had always been aware of his presence, and the wizards he employed to run his mundane affairs saw dutifully to remind her of his unyielding, unforgiving nature. They punished her without an ounce of mercy for something as simple as a wrinkle in a bedsheet. He would hold her at fault.
"...Ron...h...he..."
Sparing a glance back up at Malfoy, she could feel her blood boiling under his withering stare. She couldn't tell him if she told him it would make it real. In her moment's pause, his hand was on her once again, and gone was the tenderness he had shown a moment before, as his fingers curled around her fragile wrist like a vice, squeezing painfully until she thought it would snap. She barked out a yelp as he added to the collection of bruises to her battered body.
" Today Mudblood! Are you daft, or just hard of hearing!?"
Her entire body was quivering as fat tears spilled down her face. Gods, she hated him almost as much as she hated Ron! Malfoy was damn good at bending people to his will. An expert at drawing out answers, her mouth at that precise moment was moving on its own, betraying her, desperate to make him release his hold. The sad part about it was, she hadn't offered a bit of resitence as if she had been slipped Veritaserum. She cracked like an egg , spilling her contents.
" I-I don't know much about anything Malfoy. I t-tried to stop him, t-to make it stop. Please understand I-I would never disrespect you o-or take the kindness you've given me for granted.."
"GRANGER! Stop apologising and get to the point."
"h-he rapes me.."
The words that had been spilling out of her mouth like verbal diarrhea until she was blubbering and stuttering over herself felt like ash in her mouth. She was pathetic. The silence that followed her admision hung over the room in a heavy she hadn't been paying close attention to him, Hermione might have missed the flash of sorrow Malfoy wore, for it was quickly replaced with his cold mask of indifference. It still made her feel sick.
Pity. He pitied her. Releasing his iron-like grip from her wrist, she watched as Malfoy retracted his long elegant fingers to brush away her invisible filth on his slacks. A habit that made her want to curl up and die with shame. It was his turn to pause as though he were considering how to move forward with this information. Did he blame her? Did he consider it an act of rebellion? Did he even believe she hadn't wanted it? After all once upon a time, Ron had been the love of her life, the very same man she had given her virginity to willingly.
Clutching her wrist in her free hand, Hermione drew it to her chest protectively, afraid he might grab her again. Clearing his throat again as if he were suddenly uncomfortable with his train of thought, Malfoy glanced away to stare at the grimy wall, his eyes squinted as he ran a hand through his silken locks in a moment of distress. It did little more then fall back into his trained position, framing his handsome face.
"I suppose my next question should be...Are you still...Y'know...receiving your monthly... or should I be expecting a ginger halfbreed bastard running about? I would rather not get a nasty surprise in a few months."
" Im not pregnant that I know of Malfoy."
It was a fair question, but for some unknown reason a bubble of rage and embarrassment took root in her, and she felt her cheeks turn an angry scarlet. She spat her response at him, a scowl planted firmly on her face. It was a relief that he didn't seem to be blaming her, but the way he was speaking to her made it feel like she were just some stray animal that they had taken in and forgotten to get spayed. She was a goddamn person, that had been violated. Even if he saw her as beneath him, she was still human.
" Although, if you don't get ahold of your Death Eater friends, I wont be the only one you'll be concerned about breeding bastard half-bloods. I hardly think I am the first and last person Ronald has been... forcing himself on."
Hermione flinched at her own tone and admission. His cool indifference never wavered however, and instead of retaliation for her disrespectful tone, Malfoy calmly reached down to his trouser pocket to retrieve a small, dark blue vial. Casually, he dropped the vial into her lap. He had come prepared to receive the bad news. Seemingly embarassed by his actions, his stormy eyes stayed trained on the wall as if it were the most interesting thing he had ever seen. A small act of un-Malfoy like kindess.
" Drink it, it's a contraceptive, and if the Weasle left you any lingering gifts... it should take care of it as well...Consider it, what you muggles call an antibiotic mixed with 'Plan B' on steroids... I haven't the time to tailor it to your specific cycle but it should do you for about two months give or take a few weeks. As for that manky tosser, I'll be dealing with him shortly. I've ignored his penchant for tarts in the red light district, but I will not tolerate him sullying my home by buggering my help . I suppose once a blood traitor, always a blood traitor."
She wanted to thank him, but she couldn't force the words out. Part of her was beyond grateful despite his reasoning, but an unrational part of her was angry with the feeling that he had only offered her assistance to help himself. What a scandal it would be for all of them if she ended up pregnant under his care. It seemed as though he wanted to say more as well, but without a backward glance, Malfoy turned on his heel and strode away. Just as silently as he had arrived, he left, taking all the air in the room with him, leaving Hermione with a tirade of unasked questions.
Snatching up the vial that lay across her blanket in her lap, she removed the stopper with her teeth and downed the translucent liquid without hesitation. It was almost tasteless but it left a bitter film on her tongue. She could feel the warmth of the potion spreading through her womb coating her insides like a blanket of protection. Recorking the vial, she let out a sigh, setting the tiny glass figure beside her bed and pulled her woolen blanket off. She had already wasted the better part of her morning.
He hadn't punished her for sleeping in, nor had he punished her for the way she had spoken to him. He hadn't even retaliated for the situation with Ron. Hermione decided it was best not to push her luck anymore today, and swiftly set about fixing her wild mane of curls in a bun atop her head. It was messy, but it was the best she could do with the mane of hair she had been cursed her face a hasty wash, and running a shakey hand down her slender torso to smooth the wrinkles from her only uniform, Hermione looked over her haggard apperance in the mirror. The relfection staring back at her felt like a strangers.
Her face was worn, the dark purple circles under her eyes made her look as if she hadn't slept in years. It was disturbing how old she looked compared to the youthful face that had gazed back at her just months prior. Even being on the run hadn't made her look this bloody awfull. She wasn't quite pale, for her skin was naturally a bit bronzey even without a lie in the sun, but she lacked the healthy glow she'd had before the dark lord had succeeded. She wasn't the only one though it seemed like he had literally sucked the life from the world and left it just as bleak and dull as her dirty mop water colored dress.
As she Trudged up the rickety flight of stairs and went about her daily duties Hermione couldnt help but wonder briefly, if the world of blood supremacy, the world that they had destroyed many lives for, was everything they had expected? It was a way of life they had been fighting for and demanding since the war of Grindlewald. Yet even the masters seemed unhappy to have been given the fruits of their labor. In the end, it had whittled Lucius away until he was a paper husk of a man. Not that she cared, the evil git deserved every bit of the pain and suffering he had inflicted tenfold.
It was shortly after she had been given to the Malfoy's that, Hermione had stumbled upon his corpse. Huddled in his cigar room chair by the fire, he had died utterly alone. Empty bottles of gut-rot whiskey, littered the floor around him, and his skin had yellowed with jaundice as his liver shut down. He had drowned in his own bile. It was a small piece of justice, one that continued to carry her through her days with a hidden smile on her face.
Hermione felt nothing but satisfaction that Lucius could no longer draw good air, yet she couldn't help but feel a little bit awfull for Draco. He was just as alone in the world as she was now, and it did not fill her with any sort of comfort. Everyone needed someone , or else what was the point in living? There was only so much hope one could draw from themselves before the tank ran empty, she knew that first hand , because at this point she was barely coasting on fumes.
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A Mudblood's Place