*I do not own anything.

Once again I find that my muse has drifted from my other, already started stories and has decided to come up with yet another piece of work. I am unsure as to where this is going and whether or not this will be a oneshot. I'm looking for feedback on this, to continue, to not continue, what are your thoughts on the piece, on Hermione, on Draco, any feedback would be great and tremendously helpful in my decision on what to do with with this newest piece. I do hope that you enjoy what I've written. For those of you that are reading one of my other pieces, I haven't forgotton about them, my muse has just been off wandering in la la land and hasn't wanted to work on any of those. I am trying though so bear with me. Now, on with this piece though. I do hope that you enjoy it and please let me know what you think. Thanks! -Sevy14

Once again I find myself in the parlor reading. It isn't the reading that is new, but rather the fact that I am in here, with him, reading. We didn't used to sit together, not voluntarily. I don't know when this change occurred it was too slow for me to notice. He is very regal. Looking at him I am able to admit that he is hansom, sturdy, strong, he is a predator; vicious and cunning, yet he is so gracefully, elegantly beautiful that it makes me sick. At least that's what I tell myself. Even, after all this time I am unable to completely lie to myself. I've always thought he was gorgeous and I've never been able to deny myself that. It sickens me to this day. I sniff at my own distaste. Turning my attention back down to my book the words begin to fuzz before my eyes, their meaning no longer entertaining to me. Twisting my head at the violent crackling of the fire I gaze into its burning inferno and my mind drifts into thoughts that are neither here nor there but meandering from topic to topic finally resting on the enigma that is the man sitting across from me, the way I am now, and how he has influenced me into this disgusting state.

So much has changed. It wasn't that I didn't care for my husband. It was just that he-I… Well we don't see eye to eye. He wasn't necessarily cruel, nor was he necessarily nice. He was just molten steel, that is really the only way to describe him. One moment he was oozing with burning heat, passion, warmth, and the next that ooze had turned into a freezing, disinterested, domineering, controlling force. And I am not in control of that force, of him. If I were honest with myself I would admit that I am not in control of myself either. No, he has claimed that control as well, much to my dismay. I don't want you to get the wrong idea about me.

I am not weak.

I am not afraid of him.

I am not stupid.

I am not a coward.

I am not a prisoner.

That is a lie. I am a prisoner. I am his, no matter how one cuts it. I am. I am his perfect little prisoner, one that doesn't complain, make unnecessary noise, nor one that puts herself in his way-I've learned my lesson. He knows this. He revels in it. Deep down, not even deep down, I know! I know that he takes great pride in knowing that he was able to break me down into this quieted person. He does. I can see it in his eyes, hear it in his speech, how he touches me, how he speaks of me to his friends, allies, business partners whenever I'm brought up. I can tell.

The old me would have stood up, fought. I would have screamed at him, lashed out verbally, physically, I would have done everything in my power to dispel the lies that he speaks as truths to those that surround him. But that person is gone. I-I am gone and he takes great pride in this defeat.

"What are you looking at?!"

Startled from my thoughts my eyes focus and he comes into vision. His eyes narrowed, mouth taught, hand stilled over his work, whatever it is. I look at him, what was I looking at? Through the foggy thoughts that have slowed my thought process I see his eyes narrow even further and his mouth opens again, the sound emitting colder, more detached, a warning tone laced into it.

"What are you looking at?!"

"Oh… Nothing..." He stares at me, his face and position not changing. The flaring of his nostrils are the only change and I quiver at that sight. "I-I was lost in thought, that's all." I respond to him, giving a small smile. He just continues to look at me. My mind is blank, whether from fear or from lack of thought I am not sure, but for once there is no racing thoughts flying about in my head. He opens his mouth and my breath hitches. I am no fool. He pauses, a flicker in his eyes before he continues on.

"Read your book."

Was all he said before returning back to his work in a mechanical manner. I continue to look at him before looking back down at my book. My mind agitates with the way he ordered me to read my book. Fuming is the only word to describe my feeling and silently I am exploding. Fireworks are going off all around me as I see red. As I fume my hands are squeezing the cover and back of my book, knuckles turning white at my displeasure I am barely able to control myself and I snap my book shut with a loudness that echoes throughout the room. I'm beyond caring at the moment. Vaguely through my anger I see his quill cease movement yet he doesn't look up. Standing I start across the room, my shoes clicking loudly in the silent parlor-perhaps louder than normal because I am walking hard. How dare he order me to read my book I fume over and over again in my head. My face a frown of complete disgust at myself for taking it silently, at him for being the way he was and-and at my whole situation my whole life. As I near the door I hear a chair slide and I quicken my pace, my heart picking up. I dare not look back. But I know what's behind me, him. The clicking of my shoes upon the stone floor is met by the sound of heavier feet following. I reach the door and my hand latches onto the doorknob, twisting it my hand shivers with adrenaline and what could possibly be fear I open the door and hurry through it. As the door begins to shut on its own I hear his voice,

"Hermione."

I don't stop though. I only hasten myself faster. Up the stairs I go. Picking up the front of my dress as I push myself faster up the long winding staircase, faster I push myself across the balcony as the heavy steps follow at a steady pace. Exhaling I blow the hair from affront of my eyes, the frustration that no matter how I hurry the steps are always the same distance-

"Hermione."

His feet are always the same distance behind me. Even. Steady. Heavy. Yet I can tell the tone of their owner. Cold, and-I don't have time for those thoughts. I'm almost to my room and I slow a bit as I realize the footsteps are further away. Perhaps he's decided to let me go. Let it go. Read my book! How dare he! The faintness of the shoes that follow me causes me to ease up and I slow as I reach my door and I dare to chance a look back and there is nothing behind me. It is merely a ghost that has the wings and speed of the devil, if wizards and witches believed in such a thing I scoff to myself. As the door shuts I lean back against it until it shuts with a click and I sigh. Alone at last in my room, now I exhale completely. Kicking my shoes off and they go flying across the room. I rest my face into my hands and massage my forward slowly and gently. What is wrong with me? Why is he like that? The why's and what's and how's creep into me and my mind racks itself into a frenzy for answers-yet I have none other than I've allowed this to happen. Me. It is my fault. It is-

"HERMIONE!"

I am thrown violently from the door as it is forced open. Because I was leaning upon it I am thrown into the center of the room, stumbling I try to gain control of my flailing body yet I cannot and I fall onto the ground. I don't have time to turn around and face him. He is on me before I even had a chance to breathe. Picking me up, my arm held in a vice grip he drags me to my feet, spinning me until I am facing him, then closer he pulls me until my body is pressed against his completely. His hands bruising my upper arms as he holds me tightly my face, only chest level due to his tall frame, my mind is numb.

"Where were you running to?"

I don't say anything? His voice is cold. It is hard. It is calm, too calm. I dare not move. I just stare at his chest. He shakes me and my head wobbles ferociously.

"I said, where were you running to?"

I shake my head, no sound coming from my open mouth.

"This is my home. You have nowhere to run here."

I just continue to look at his chest and his arms continuing to bruise me.

"ANSWER ME!"

I don't though. I have gone numb. There is nobody home. This is my defense when he gets like this. He gets like this too much. It seems like every night now. Bleakly I remember a time when it wasn't always like this-but those days are gone.

"When I tell you to do something, you do it. I thought that you would have learned that by now. But I see that is not the case and I must remind you of your place in this home and as my wife."

"No…" Barely a whisper, I hadn't meant for it to escape me, but it did. I hadn't said no to him in a very long time, years perhaps, I am not sure.

"No? Did-did you just say no to me?"

His voice a complete representation of disbelief and I immediately regret letting that slip. I shake my head, but at what I don't know. I don't… Know. I don't know. He's completely gone tense. His hands, I don't know how it's possible, but have begun to squeeze me harder and my hands have begun to go numb. Slowly but surely I'm losing feeling as his anger grows.

"You are never to disobey me. You are never to say "No" to me. NEVER!"

And as he says the final word he thrusts me backwards with a strength that is so forceful I land upon the bed. Instantly I am back from my world of numbness. Being tossed through the air awoke me to reality and instantly I regret coming back to reality. His face, so terrifying, so heated, so-so I don't even know. He advances towards me and as he does he speaks in a voice so calm that I realize I am terrified.

"I am your husband and you will obey me. I will show you your place and you will remain in that place."

I watch with horror as slowly he comes to stand before me and in slow motion he begins to undo his clothes. First his shirt, the buttons coming undone in a swift manner and then his hands go down to his waist. Undoing the button, unzipping the fly and then dragging them down his legs and tossing them aside and my breath hitches. I realize what is going to happen. He has never done this before. He-he has only ever squeezed too hard or hit me or locked me in my room but never-never this. I begin to shake my head. I-I begin to sweat. I feel my body begin to panic and I can't stop it. I can't think straight. I-I am wide eyed, disbelieving, I am terrified. I shake my head as he stands above me. Suddenly he lunges forward and is atop me in an instant. His face is inches from mine and the gleam in his steel eyes is icy and unreadable. Instantly I raise my hands from my sides and begin to move them to his chest, suddenly and like lightening his arms move from next to my head and grasps my wrists tightly. I inhale with the suddenness of the pain and I look up frantically into his eyes, shaking my head even as he's smiling in a cruel manner. Now helpless, my hands pinned above my head with his hands and me, pinned beneath him due to his large body over mine and his legs on either side of me. I try to lift my arms but I can't move. I'm paralyzed by his strength and large body. Shuddering uncontrollably I look into his eyes pleadingly. "P-please…" I can't continue my breath is caught by fears net in my throat and he just looks at me. His eyes staying cruel and cold, his malicious smile glaring down at me and I feel a tear leak out. "P-please no, don't." He only raises an eyebrow at me and moves his hands so that his left is holding both of my hands. I try to free my hands against his left, but it only tightens its grip and I can't move. His right hand poised on my cheek, one would think it was a lovers caress but the coldness is there hiding in his veins.

"Please," I shake my head. "Please."

His hand tightens upon my cheek and my hearts quickened pace goes into overdrive. Then, it snakes down to my throat and I feel my eyes widen at him as I look into his eyes. I struggle to free myself. But it's to no avail. I can't even move. I'm completely frozen, paralyzed. As his hand travels further down my body it barely brushes over my breasts and continues and I try and fail to get free. His eyes all the while never leaving my own. Then, I feel his fingers at the break in my two piece dress and they feather themselves across its top. Then, they begin to delve further down and he grasps a large handful of fabric and pulls it up. The cold air rushes up against me and my whole body is beginning to scream with panic, fright, disbelief, with-with self-preservation, but there is nothing I can do. I cannot escape, I cannot move. Then, upon my underwear his hand rests upon its top and his eyes, the gleam is darker and the smile is more intense. As his fingers begin to inch centimeter by centimeter under the fabric I scream,

"I'M SORRY! DRACO I'M SORRY! PLEASE! PLEASE NO! NO, I'M SORRY!" The silence eats up the emptiness of the room and I look up into him. Crying openly now. He smirks, scoffs, and then laughs. He laughs and my mind, completely full of disbelief is at a new level of-of disbelief. He's laughing and I haven't an idea why. But I am still pinned and terrified, so I reiterate, "Draco please, I'm sorry. I-I'll be good. Just please… Don't." To me it seems as though I'm screaming but I know that I am whispering in reality. His laugh quiets and he lifts his hands from my underwear, and I dare not sigh a breath of relief. Then, he once again grabs a handful of fabric and pulls it down until all the cold air is suffocated from underneath my floor length skirt, yet I still feel cold-numb. Then, he releases my hands, yet I do not move them, it is as one would deal with a wild animal. No movement, one wouldn't want to spook it. Yet in my case, I do not want him to return to the way he was, the way he was manhandling me. Now, he is just straddling my waist and looking down at me, arms crossed over his chest, a triumphant smirk upon his features. Slowly, he leans forwards and rests his hands upon either side of my head and my heartbeat picks up again. He leans forwards until his mouth is just next to my right ear and says in a deadly calm voice,

"My dear, did you really think I would force myself upon you?" He chuckles and raises his head until our eyes are locked. He leans forward, and as he does, I push my head further into the plush comforter, yet he has the advantage and he softly kisses my lips lingering just for a moment before sitting up, then standing, grabbing his wand he mutters a spell and is dressed standing before me in all of his glory. "Stand up."

For a moment I can't move. I am paralyzed but when he raises his eyebrows at me I move to stand before him, looking into his chest. A hand is raised and then brought down upon my face with such a force I fall back again onto the bed.

"Never, and I mean never disobey again. No matter how little a task or request it may be. I will not have you disobeying me."

He grabs my arms and pulls me back to my feet, my hand upon my cheek. I can feel its heat and know that there is a mark. He moves his hand over my burning sheltered cheek and removes my hand, and places his hand gently over where he hit me and I flinch from the pain and from the idea that he'll hit me again. Whether he notices I am not sure but he rubs it a bit with his thumb and my face stings with pain. If anyone were to walk by and see us they would think we were in a lovers embrace, but that is not so. I am not sure how long we've stood here but we're interrupted by a small voice. A voice that I had longed to not hear on this night.

"Mummy I heard screaming. Is someone being hurt?"

My eyes widen and I turn my head to the left and see my young son, Constellation, at the doorway. I smile at him, "No honey, you were just dreaming." As I speak I turn and remove myself from Draco's grasp, my body easing a sigh of relief at its freedom. I move towards my son slowly, my legs still shaky from Draco's onslaught. Standing before my son I kneel down and he sees my face and his eyes go wide.

"Mummy your face…"

I open my mouth but close it again. I breathe a deep breath and then I try again. "It's okay honey. Mummy's fine. You know how mummy likes to read," he nods his head, "Well mummy was reading and she fell down the stairs because she wasn't looking where she was going." His eyes wide he reaches up and touches my cheek and I wince with the pain and his eyes grow even wider, I raise my own hand up to cover his own, "It's alright baby, mummy's alright."

"Mummy you need watch where you go walking."

I smile at him, "I know baby, I know. Now come along my little one, lets get you to bed, it's late." He makes a face but nods and begins to turn. Before he does turn completely he says,

"Goodnight Father."

From behind me Draco responds, "Goodnight Constellation."

I stand and take my sons hand. As we reach the threshold of the door my son says, "It's a good thing father was there to make sure you were okay, wasn't it mummy?"

Still shaken, I look back at Draco to see him standing there, his arms crossed upon his chest, a smirk upon his face. Reverting my attention back to my son, "Yes baby, it is." After returning my son to his bed and after he had fallen asleep once again I debate on whether or not to return to my room or go to another part of the house. But my body is tired, my mind exhausted and I decide to return and go to bed. As I enter my room I shut the door only to realize that Draco is still there, lounging upon my bed. I stop dead in my tracks at the sight of him. I open my mouth but nothing comes out and I don't know what I was going to say anyways.

"Don't just stand there, get ready for bed."

Looking at him for a minute more and then I hurry into the bathroom and run cold water from the faucet. I put my hands underneath the water and I lean my face down and splash the water over my disturbed skin. The contrast of heated skin and cold water stings and I hiss at the sensation. It seems as though I've only spent milliseconds in the bathroom before I'm done with my nightly routine and step out of the bathroom to find Draco still laying upon my bed. I stand there awkwardly, unsure of what I want to do, not get into bed is at the top of my list. At least not while he is laying on top of it. He looks over at me and stares for a minute.

"You're not wearing one of my nightgowns."

His statement rushes me from my thoughts and I look down. I'm wearing a large, old t-shirt. It's worn and ragged, much like my feelings and emotion. I shrug and look back up at him, not really caring what I wear, I'm sleeping so I don't need to look at it, besides it's comfortable.

"Get into bed."

I look at him and then do move towards the bed and hesitate. My body resists being close to him, I look at him, silently pleading for him to leave. No such luck though. He stands up and looks at me from across the bed and then with a flick of his wrist is naked once again. A pit drowns itself in my stomach and I can feel the fear rise up in my throat and in my face. He sees my hesitation,

"I said-"

"I-I don't feel well enough for that Draco." I say, somehow finding my courage. In my head I think, I don't know if I'll ever feel well enough for sleeping with you after tonight. He just looks at me for a minute and then pulls back the covers.

"Get into bed Hermione, it's late."

I look at him, exasperation starting to become obvious but he squashes that with a sharp look in my direction. I get into bed. "Fine," I say quietly, "But I'll throw up if you want to do that." I mumble. I feel him get in but my back is turned and I'm facing away from him, hoping he'd get the hint. A strong arm snakes around my waist and I sigh, he's never been good at getting hints. The jest that I think makes me smile a bit but he can't see it, but I'm alright with that. In my head I congratulate myself on it. He pulls me close to him. Throwing one leg over mine he draws me closer still yet I am still stiff, from fear, from this whole night I wish he were just off in his room or in his study, just-just not here. "Can-can you please get off of me, please?"

"No. Turn around."

"Draco no, I-"

"Now."

I sigh and turn around, deciding to not start another fight, I always lose fights and I'm tired and I want to go to sleep.

"Good girl."

He relaxes his head back upon the pillows and I lay there. My head upon his arm, feeling too close, too crowded, to imprisoned too breathe but somehow I find the air to live. After minutes pass by I hear a faint sound and realized he's fallen asleep. Soon there after I can feel drowsiness taking over my body and my eyes can no longer fight to stay awake. My last though before I drift off into a happier, safer dream world is that I wish tonight had only been a nightmare.

Well I hope that what I have written has given you enough information for you to give me some feedback on what I should do witht his story. Do I leave it as is or should I continue it? I leave this question to you because as my audience it is important to me to write stories if you want them to be continued and to cease writing them should that be what the case warrents. I can go both ways, please though, let me know what you think. I look forward to hearing from you. I hope you have a lovely weekn.-Seyv14