Published: 03-07-14, Updated: 02-24-16

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Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, JKR does. I only own the piece of kleenex I used to mop up the tears and blew my nose with as I wrote this.

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I watched the sunlight as it plays with the intricately woven gold and silver braids on the anklet you gave me. It shone magnificently to rival the sun.

It may not be as elaborate as the slave's collar my people wore, but what the heck, you always want to one up everyone. Your family always had the best as you said; the best education, the best home, the best clothes, jewelries, things, food and of course women. I never knew what fascination you had with me.

Is it because of my kind, how dirty you said we were? The way I always defeated you when we were in school? The way my powers were presumed to be stolen from pure bloods like you? Or is it you just want something what you can never have.

I sighed as I watched emotionlessly a child playing in the distance, a child who looked exactly like you. A child I never wanted. A child you forced upon me, to strengthen the bonds some mad man decreed.

As I felt the sun's rays turn cold and the night sky greets the moon, I wanted to call them back, to take me with them, to never leave me here with the snake that owned me. I nearly cried when I felt the kiss of the twilight breeze upon my bare shoulders.

Ahh, it was just as well. Daylight and fallen leaves always reminds me of the one love I lost a long time ago. The skies on the highest point of the day always reminds me of the color of his eyes, fallen leaves that turned to crimson are his hair the last time I saw him alive; vibrant and matted with blood that night at the battle defending the school we so dearly loved.

Our dwindling forces were defeated that night, the legendary boy who lived, lived no more. It was the first and the last time we kissed as he shielded me from a flash of green light that snuffed the life from his eyes. If it wasn't for you accioing me from a distance I would have joined his bittersweet embrace.

I would choose that option a thousand times over if given the chance.

I would choose innocent hand holding, skipping stones while we camped, practicing the piano even if we re bad at it and reading by the fire than hot and heavy hands caressing me; eliciting an unwanted response from my battered flesh, lips extracting sighs as he proudly take me over and over, him and only him, and when he finishes I am still not free as his arms cages me never letting me go.

I am his captive and his slave.

I felt gentle small hands shook my ruffled green laced sleeve; silver blue eyes, your eyes but my determined mouth softened by the innocence of youth; asked if we could go inside the manor now. I quietly declined to say that as long as there is light outside then outside too shall I stay.

He lovingly gazed at me with adoration, Merlin! How he reminds me of you, it is not unlike how you look at me but without the component of lust that soon follows.

At last it is completely night.

And I hear the hinges at the gate groan as it let you in instantly, the magic of the wards giving in.

You spot us, as you do every night you come home after your day at the ministry. Your rapier like eyes cut me and I know tonight I would be punished again. You kissed my neck and I shiver with revulsion, you breathed me in while I held my breath unless my utterance of denial comes out.

" How was your day love? Did you miss me?" you asked.

I almost choked out a no, but I remembered the night I was being truthful and disobedient for once. I couldn't leave my bed for a week.

"Of course, Draco."

Dinner time at Malfoy Manor was always a somber affair with only just the two of us attending. Parties are rare since Lucius and Narcissa are now installed in the Minister's Court. Twice; there was only two times a party was held here in the Manor. The first was when Draco bound me to him, that happy event still to this day makes me shiver in disgust, but it makes for another retelling. The second one was the birth of our son Scorpius.

Draco invited all his Slytherin mates to join him in the lounge to partake of cigar and bourbon while I was in labor upstairs in the master suite. It was both a blissful and wretched event, bittersweet because I nearly died that day, I thought that finally, finally! I would be with my best friend and my love and to never suffer Draco's lust again, but it was not to be.

I forgotten how high was Draco's aptitude for potions was, we both were always competing against each other back then as to who would have the best final product, the most potent and the fastest to finish brewing. I almost always win against him, but there were times too when he would undeniably defeat me. Merlin! I hate how he smirked back at me then. It was only in sixth year I noticed his grades slumped, the potions professor of course has a new favorite.

With the amount of tonics and potions Draco forced on me that day, any tear and damage my body incurred during pregnancy and child birth were all repaired, I looked like the sixth year Hermione that he remembered he said. Oh how he enjoyed that and how I despised myself after. I felt I could never be clean again as I scratched my skin raw while I bathe under the hot scalding spray.

I was taken back to the present when I heard Draco's knife clashed noisily with the ivory porcelain plate. Of course our son Scorpius would not be joining us during mealtimes, he will be sent upstairs with his elf nanny, he's five now and the reign of Voldemort was in it's sixth year.

To replenish the death the wizardring war has wrought. He decreed that all living side from the light must be given to the winning party as spoils of war. It was like Europe's dark ages all over again.

It was mandated that every mudblood or halfblood be given to pure-blooded families for a repopulation program. And the first pickings must go to his most loyal of Generals.

As I was "rescued" by Malfoy he had the privilege of keeping me. Of course as my notoriety as the boy who lived's mudblood best friend the stakes were up as to who would get me in the end.

Draco was being contested by Dolohov and Yaxley, who outstripped Draco in the ranks by seniority. It was then Lucius intervened, sensing his son's want of me he proposed a wizards duel, the only condition made by Voldemort was it was to be done simultaneously, whoever wins gets to keep me. He loves pitting his pawns against each other.

And of course he won. Yes, what Draco wants, Draco always gets. Spoilt Snake!

I thought it doesn't matter who will win anyway as I planned to escape the nano-second I have a chance. If not then I would die trying.

While the duel was starting Draco played up his being younger than them in years and experience battle wise, he gestured to both that they should battle it out first since whoever was left standing is going to duel with him and he can guarantee an eighty-five percent chance that whoever does he battle could win given that he hadn't been taught in the art of skirmish long. The two elder death eaters salivating at the thought of me under their command must have rushed each other in order to determine as to who would finally have me.

They haven t learnt to never trust a snake's suggestion.

Haven't they wondered?

Maybe being out of school made their brains too thick to penetrate common sense. As Draco saw that Dolohov on account that his trademark curse was really lethal, I should know as I've been a recipient with a minor version of it when I was in fifth year; was winning, he just waited for an opportune moment and cursed an Avada his way nonverbally.

I was given to Draco Malfoy that day.

It was time for the most dreaded part of the night for me.

As I watched you wipe your mouth with the pristine napkin, I knew my Calvary is starting.

"You haven't touched your dinner love. Are you feeling unwell?" you slyly asked as you massaged the small of my back. I cringed on the inside as your hands felt like dragon talons clutching me and ripping my flesh raw.

No matter how you thought that your touch ought to comfort me, it always never fails to give the opposite results. Whereas it should have calmed me now only brings me trepidation.

Your hands travel upwards gripping my slight shoulder painfully, seething that you were being ignored. I shrugged to skillfully dislodge your clasp and your arm fell to your side, I am now a master at evasion.

But I could never stop you from doing it again.

You sighed, clearly irritated.

"Are we doing this again? You must be tired, stop resisting Hermione. Give in, it's been years."

I felt the tear that I was holding back roll down my cheek, I clenched my throat unless a sob breaks through.

I saw your expression shift. Your eyes flashed for a second of how wounded you are at my rejection, but it was quickly replaced by a determined glint, jaws clenched.

You really hate to show any weakness.

And my heart rejoiced that I am the only one who can do this to you.

This was my bittersweet revenge.

You admitted in a weak moment once during our one-sided conversation, that I am your downfall.

And I will exploit it to my heart's content.

Oh, the ending might not be so favorable for me, but every hurt that I can dish out to wound you is a little triumph I relish to experience.

You clamped your hand on my upper arm, forcing me to stand up and ushered me through the Manor's cavernous winding hall as the paintings of your ancestors sneered and ridiculed in disdain, their voices forever silenced by an effective spell.

The massive door of our suite groaned in protest as you opened it, my palms sweat as I knew what the night held for me.

I stopped in the middle of the vast room, refusing to go much further. It impeded your advance and looked seething in my direction. You let out a long drawn out exhale as your patience wore thin.

And without another word directed an unerring slap to my cheek.

The force of the blow sent me sprawling to the floor. I groaned as my vision turned blurry, spots danced behind my eyes.

You looked remorseful as you beheld your swift heavy hand, disbelieving that once again that you used it to cause me harm in your own accord.

You quickly got down soothing me but how could you be my source of comfort when you were the one doing the hurting.

a/n more to come.