Title: Serenity
Summary: Hermione has fallen into the world she swore she'd never enter. After many events of betrayal, death, defeat, and helplessness, she finally caved in. However, she isn't as alone as she think she is. After years of torture and torment from his father, Draco has snapped. He returns to school after a summer of rehabilitation. Can he and Hermione help each other out, or does fate hae other plans for them?
Rating: "R" for violence, language, drug use, strong suicidal and self-mutilation themes, rape, and eventualy sexual activity. If you don't like blood, don't read. A story for the masochists.
A/N: This isn't my first fanfiction to write, but it is my first here, and my first for Harry Potter. Please be nice. Give me feedback.
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters in this story. I do not own any of the quoted songs. I do take responsibility for the plot. There may be a poem or two that I DO own, and I will let you know which ones they are. As for this chapter, I own the poem titled "Mary Palmer."
Enjoy!
"God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
Courage to change the thing I can,
And the wisdom to know the difference."
Mary Palmer don't you cry,
Everything's gonna be alright
A tortured soul beckons for flight,
Don't give up now, let's win this fight.
One could not say that it all happened so fast, for it didn't. The events were sparatic; happening throughout time slowly, creeping into her life like lava. It took its pain-stakeing time before it caught everthing in its path on fire. That's what she was, her soul burning into ash little by little, until there was nothing left. And was there? She couldn't tell you. She didn't know.
How did this all happen? How did she succumb to this way of life? How could she be so weak? She was supposed to be strong.
When Mary had her third birthday,
She watched her father die.
The heart attack had hitso fast,
No one could tell her why.
Alack! The memories of his funeral were fuzzy and incomplete. She was so young when her father died. It was the first void her and her mother had to yeild together. They did a good job for awhile. Times were sad, but livable. To this day she doesn't remember that much of him. But that isn't important. Although there is an empty yearning to know more, she has much more to worry about.
When Mary held six years of age,
He mother married John.
He'd beat her every single night,
And wish that she was gone.
Willis Murchfield. He was no man. He wasn't even human. This vicious creature called himself her step-father. She called him nothing. He was vile, unforgiving, and took great pleasure in seeing her cry. How could her mother stand for this? She didn't know. Willis was two different people. During the day he was sweet and loving, to her mother that is. During the night, his beatings were inevitable. All he wanted were the tears. She learned that quickly. The first time he hit her was shocking. The second time made her furious. But after awhile she learned to just give up on her stubborness and cry so he would stop. The tears seemed to be her escape, but they were only worthless means to please him. They only made him come back.
Two years later she turned eight,
And got her first real kiss.
A dare made for the boys to laugh,
Caused her mind to dismiss.
Boys never gave her a second look. That is why it was so surprising, yet wonderful, when one wanted to hold her hand in the playground. He said he liked her, took her behind the slide, and kissed her. She was flattered. Her face had never glowed so much. He told her to wait a second while he went to get her something. She blushed and nodded him okay as he turned and left. Then there was laughter. Confused, she peeked her head around to see the commotion. A group of boys were standing very near snickering to themselves. He joined then in the laughter. Sadly, she watched as each boy in the group paid him a dollar for losing the "bet" they had made.
Mary Palmer don't you cry,
Everything's gonna be alright.
A tortured soul beckons for flight.
Don't give up now, let's win this fight.
She was crushed. A bet. A fucking bet made for their entertainment. She was the victim. She was always the victim. This single trick caused her great suspicion everytime some guy made a move on her. She knew she was worthless. No one would ever want her for anything other than to get something out of her.
At ten years old Mary got raped
Walking home from school.
They ripped her clothes and slapped her face,
And called her names so cruel.
Innocence comes onlyat one point inones life. Once it is gone it will never come back. Her remaining innocence was barely holding on to itself by a string. That string wassnipped as each boy took his turn with her. They were older and knew what they were doing. They were sick. They stole away from her the only thing she had left. Her virginity was the only thing she could call her own.Now she had nothing. She was an empty creek dried of all it's water.
Mary Palmer turned thirteen
Before she tried real drugs.
She sold her body for cocaine
To greedy, willing thugs.
It never occured to her what exactly she was doing. She only knew of the sweet serenity she got from the heroin flowing in her veins. It kept her calm, and excitedat the same time. She could fly to a world where no one could harm her. No one could tell her who she was or wasn't, no one could touch her, no one could break her peace. She was always alone, that was a fact. But this brought to her a solitude she enjoyed more than anything else.
Mary Palmer, now sixteen,
Swayed as her body hung.
The rope around her neck so tight,
At first it might have stung.
Death was never something to be feared. She embraced it with open arms. It pleaded with her for the vast majority of her life. But she always refused it, never understanding why. So she chose other methods of destruction. Her arms had more lines than a sheet of paper. Some scars were tiny and barely noticable. Some were long and morbid looking. A few times she had cut too deep and fainted from a loss of blood. But she always survived. Regrettably, she always survived.
Mary Palmer don't you cry
You have no tears to shed.
Mary Palmer now you're free,
You can't feel when your dead.
Hermione sighed as she put the poetry book down. She had read this particular poem so many times, the page had fallen out and she had to magically keep the book entact. Memories of her past came rushing back to her. She had so much in common with this Mary Palmer girl. She knew the character was supposed to be fictional, but she couldn't escape the oddness of how the poem directly described her life. Even the ages matched the events that had happened.
No one knew. No one needed to know. Her mother never knew of the tragedies that had occured to her own daughter. Not even Harry, or Ron could have suspected even an ounce of the truth. To the world she was always known as Hermione Granger.
Sweet, innocent, and smart Hermione Granger. She hid her life so well to the outside world. Her friends saw her as a brainy, book worm with no life outside of school. Her enemies saw her as a know-it-all bitch and best friend to Harry Potter. Either way you look at it, she was a nobody.
Part of her was satisfied being that way. No one would ask questions, and she wouldn't have to deal with the stress of answering them. But the other half of her hated it. She was sick of being a nobody. She was sick of being alone.
Hermione and Harry had dated the previous year during school. They were critisized constantly. Hermione usually got the worst of the blow. Harry was famous. He had his own fan club of adoring girls who would do anything to date him. He was perfect, handsome, and one of the best wizards in the world. He had to be. Not just anyone could beat Lord Voldemort and send him back to the hell of which he was born. No, only one could, and that was Harry.
Hermione was, on the other hand, Hermione. The girls envied her to the point of hatred when they dated. It was hard on her, especially with everything she had gone through in the past. Harry tried to put a stop to all the teasing. He tried so hard for the both of them. But in the end it had gotten to the better of him. He broke off the relationship with her before summer started.
Hermione had seen it comming, but was still hurt when it happened. They had promised each other to still be friends, but that was impossible and they knew it. The had shared so much, been through so much, and felt so much. Harry never realized how much they had grown together until he broke up with her. Choking out the words hurt for him. Strangely enough, they didn't affect Hermionethe same way.
She had become numb up until this time. But for his sake, she put on her show of crying and pleading for him not to do it. Harry took the bait loyaly. The summer wasn't filled with the usual letters back and forth to each other. Ron kept in touch as usual. He pitied how things had turned out for them. Harry had only written to her once while he stayed at the Borrow because Ron had made him.
Things weren't the same for all three of them when they met again at the train station to go to school when the summer ended. Hermione's summer had been filled with the same beatings and degradations from Willis as always. However, when asked, she simply used her same excuse of reading all summer and nothing else.
They tried to make the meeting normal. Ron was his usual self, but Harry was distant. All three of them shared a compartment on the train for about a quarter of the ride. It was unbearably awkward, so Hermione left and found a compartment for herself. She had been made Head Girl and was excited about it, however, didn't feel like shareinga compartmentwith someone else. Especially a boy. Over the years of misguidence from the opposite sex, she had grown a resentment and slight fear for them. Harry and Ron had been the only two she trusted.
Here she was now, sitting by herself. The poetry book she had had in her hand was now sprawled on the floor. Tears stinging her eyes, she clenched her fist and drug the blade across her arm. As the blood started to dribble out, she rested her head back and sighed, a slight smile playing across her lips.
She was startled to hear her compartment door open. She nearly gaged and wanted to just hex herself to death right then and there as she looked into the hollow eyes of Draco Malfoy.