A/N: Hello! This is my first fanfiction ever!
In this story, Harry is not good. He is dark, cold, cruel and evil. So please keep that in mind while reading.
Pairings: Harry/Hermione. No others as of yet. Rest are canon mostly.
He hated her.
He had always hated her.
The mudblood bitch.
From the first time, he saw her climbing into the Hogwarts Express. Her uncontrollably wild hair bouncing behind her, her brown eyes flicking around trying to take everything in.
Kneeling before him.
Her hair matted with dirt and clothes torn. Her eyes vary but still defiant.
"Hermione Granger", he spat. Just saying her name left a bad taste in his mouth. Her head, if possible, rose even more defiantly. Staring right at him as if challenging him to hurt her. He felt his anger rise like bile in his chest. How dare she! She had no idea who he was. She had no idea of what he could do.
He said it so casually, without even lifting a finger, that one might wonder if it had any effect. But the twitching and screaming mudblood proved that it was extremely powerful.
"The light leader. Dumbledore's successor. Bound, powerless and kneeling in front of me. This might be the best thing that has happened in the past few days."
He turned to the guard at the door, "Take her to the dungeons. I have to meet Father."
"Yes, Prince." The guard bowed and left, dragging the girl with him.
He strode meaningfully through the manor he had called his home for the last 17 years and reflected on the recent events ignoring the bows and greetings by the passing guards. The light was losing. That was obvious. But they still put up a strong resistance.
'Maybe this blow will help the dark to eliminate the light completely', he mused.
The first blow was Dumbledore's death. It was a hard blow but it did not eliminate the light completely. If anything, it made them retaliate harder. He smiled. That's what made it fun. But now they were becoming a nuisance, especially the mudblood in his dungeons. Hence, Her capture. Even thinking about her made his blood boil. She needed to learn her place. And he would be happy to oblige.
He reached his father's study.
He shook his head, cleared his mind and let his face slip into an emotionless mask. Emotions don't lead to anything good after all. Knocking, he waited for the order to come in.
The doors opened to reveal a magnificent study made of the costliest material known to man and painted green, black and silver. The walls were covered with books so old that they were declared lost to mankind. Knowledge is Power.
In front of the only window to the west of the room was a large desk. Behind that desk was a man whose aura by just being in room demanded obedience from all. The man looked up to reveal a handsome, aristocratic face of a thirty-something man and blood red eyes. The man was the Dark Lord. Also known by You-Know-Who and He Who Must Not Be Named by people who feared him.
The Dark Lord waved a hand to ask the young man at the door to come in.