Disclaimer: I don't own the wonderful world of Harry Potter or any of his associates. If you think I do, then you are sorely mistaken.

A/N: Beware, there is a lot of angst in this story. Murder, Suicide, Non-consensual incest, many character deaths…but still a good story, please read and review.

Pureblood

I sit on the edge of the bathtub in the deserted prefects' bathroom on a deserted floor of a deserted school. I press the taps of lilac and cream. I watch as a plethora of purple and white froth emits from the jets. The scent of the bubbles makes me go crazy; it reminds me of why I'm here.

As it sit here I run the sharp edge of the muggle device called a razor blade across the palm side of my wrist, making sure to push it just deep enough to puncture the veins and let me die a slow death. I want to die slow; I want to remember what has made me this. What has caused me to go to such great lengths to end my horrid existence on this earth.

I grab the blade with my now weakening bloody hand and make the same incision into the veins of my other wrist. Blood flows out in a steady stream from both wrists.

Pureblood.

I hold my arms over the edge of the tub, watching my blood mix in with the freshly scented water that is flowing down the drain to a place where no one knows, just like the existence of my life. I had no idea where it was going, and soon it will be gone. Just like the lilac water. No one will ever find me. No one will ever look here for my deserted body.

My mind flashes back to how this ever came to be, why these things have happened, what has made my life no longer worth living. Why I want to end my life in such a manner and so unexpectedly.

Well, you better take a seat, because this is going to be long.

I guess you could say that it started when I was born. Most people are happy when they are brought into this earth. They laugh and cry as babies, and their mother takes care of them. They live a happy little existence until they are at least teenagers.

I had no such luck.

I was born into a cruel family, one that made me feel inferior though I was supposed to feel superior to all. I was born into the family of the Malfoy's. I was brought into this world by the two most sadistic people on this planet, Lucius and Narcissa.

And as if life couldn't be any worse with them as parents, I was also a pureblood. Nobility, as muggles call it. I had a station and I was to stick to it. There was no consorting with muggles, not even muggle-borns. They were the commoners; we were the Dukes, the Earls, and the Lords.

Mudbloods were peasants.

I wished more than anything as a child that I could've been born into another family, another way of life. But alas, fate had another thing for me.

When I was three my best friend died. He was my twin brother and I had to watch him die a slow, painful death. My parents didn't care and watched him suffer, he had some sort of disease that was hitting the pureblood families, too much interbreeding. He would wake me up in the middle of the night, coughing blood into his hand covering his mouth. He would cry in pain in his sleep, he was in pain from the moment he was born.

Just like me.

He died just before our fourth birthday. At least he got the release of death from our horrible parents and didn't have to put up with them as long as I did.

I grew up the rest of my childhood scared and alone. I didn't want to talk to my parents, knowing that they would find some excuse to curse me down with the most horrible of curses. Cruciatus.

I vowed that one day when I went off to school; I would learn how to do that curse. I would learn how to inflict pain on the people that had done it to me so many times in my life. They would pay for me ever having to suffer pain from their hands.

When I turned eleven I was grateful to Merlin and all the saints that I was a full-fledged wizard and was being shipped off to a boarding school in Scotland. Hogwarts.

My first year at school was incredible. I had an amazing time, the only people who really annoyed me were Potter and his little fan club. Though not for the reasons people would think.

People would think that I was jealous that he got all the attention. On the contrary, I hated getting a fair amount of attention and wanted only to hide back into the shadows, but letters would come in the mail once a week or so, howlers from my father that said that if I was not the best, that if I was not better than Potter, then I would be put under a thousand Cruciatus'.

So I fought for attention of my peers at school, but I had my attention on one particular witch. She was the most beautiful witch that I had ever seen, even though owing to my age being eleven years, I had not really seen a fair amount.

But she was my love from the moment I laid eyes on her, I would have her, I promised myself.

The summer after my first year at school, my father caught me telling our house elf, Dobby, about my adventures at school. About all the friends that I had met and about one very pretty witch that I was head over heels over at the age of eleven.

My father overheard and recognized the name. "Granger?" he asked sardonically as he stepped into the kitchen.

"Yes," I answered shakily. I was frightened as to why my father would care. Was it not my choice in who I liked and did not like?

"CRUCIO!"

Apparently not.

I writhed in pain on the floor until I couldn't stand it anymore. He released the curse. He lifted me off the floor by my hair. "You are not to be falling for muggle-borns, Draco!"

I just cried, I didn't know what else to do. He slammed my head down on the counter top and it cracked, blood flowing from a gash across my eye.

Pureblood.

He put the curse on me again, watching in pleasure as I thrashed about on the floor. He laughed at my pain. "You are a Pureblood, you are better than any Mudblood," he had said. "Then again you aren't much better than him," he said, pointing at our house elf. "Are you?" he asked me.

"Yes," I got out hoarsely.

He lifted me back up from the floor by my right ear, slamming my head once more against the marble counter top. Then he bent me over the black marble and ripped down my pants…

He scolded into my mind that summer that I should not be falling for muggle-born witches, he did it through torture, he did it through humiliation, and his favorite, rape. I was a Pureblood and was going to act like one. I was going to marry my betrothed, Pansy Parkinson. I was going to love her unconditionally, and I was going to be happy with her, just like the good little Pureblood wizard I was.

I tried and tried to get my mind off the witch that I had fallen in love with at first sight, but the fear of my father's curses drove me to mock and scold her instead. Driving her away from me even though I only wanted her closer. I wanted to make her mine, my girlfriend, my love.

When I saw Potter in the bookshop before second year, getting pictures taken with Lockhart I couldn't help but scold him.

Then I noticed that she was there. My love. I noticed that she was there with her muggle parents. Then my father stepped in and started wrestling with Weasley's father. I was ashamed at his amateur behavior. When they were to the ground I looked shyly up at my love who was looking disgusted at them. My father had embarrassed me in front of my love. I walked out of the bookshop with my head hung.

Then I heard the oaf explain: "—bad blood, that's what it is—"

Pureblood.

Second year was the year I reserved a spot on the Slytherin Quidditch team. I beat out three other second years and a fifth year in my flying and became the best seeker that that team had ever had.

When I saw Potter for the first time after my initiation to the team I showed him that not only he was good enough to get on before fifth year. I was good at Quidditch too.

Then my love comes up to me, tells me that I'm not good enough. Yells at me for buying my way on the team. Just because I felt grateful enough that they let me on the team that I convinced my horrid father into buying the team new brooms doesn't mean that that was how I got on.

I was righteously mad and I, for the first time, called her Mudblood, though she didn't seem to understand what it meant. Anyway, our first fight. Then Weasley had to come along and hit himself with that damn spell that was meant for me. I had to laugh at his efforts, so hard that I fell to the ground in my hysterics.

When I looked up I saw my love and Potter carrying Weasley away towards the oafs hut. Dear Merlin, I wondered if she would ever come to my help if something like that were to happen to me.

Probably not, I reminded myself.

Before the holidays, there was the horrible incident in Snape's class with the swelling solution. I don't remember how exactly it did it, but Goyle's entire cauldron exploded with the stuff and a huge gob of it landed on my nose, making it turn to the size of a small watermelon.

As I walked up to Snape's desk for the antidote I saw my love walking out of Snape's office, robes bulging. I didn't say anything. I didn't want her caught.

At dueling club, the one and only, I stood and watched as Professor Snape showed Lockhart what a real wizard was. I laughed with the rest of the Slytherins when Lockhart was on the ground. It was fun and dandy.

Then we had to partner off, Pansy had run away with someone and I couldn't find her. Millicent found me first. I scrunched my nose at the thought and then heard Snape proclaim that he was going to split the Dream Team up. Weasley went with Finnigan and it was my love and Potter left. Of course Snape put me with Potter and Hermione was left to fend with the overgrown hag.

After a rather interesting fight with Potter I looked around to find her until my eyes rested on her being choked by the hag. I went to lunge for her but Potter got to her first, pulling Millicent from around her neck. As long as she was safe.

I decided to stay at the school for that Christmas, afraid that my father would punish me more for my infatuation over her. Unfortunately my father also assigned Crabbe and Goyle to stay with me as well. I had to put up with their stupid questions and dumb comments for the entire of Christmas break.

After Christmas, when I found out that she had been petrified, my world crashed. I had hoped that nothing would harm her, that she would be all right from whoever the heir of Slytherin was. I was hoping that nothing would happen to her.

I was happy when I found out that she had not died, but had just been petrified and could be returned back to normal health, even though I pretended that it pissed me off beyond all reason. Damn it, why couldn't I have lived in another family, another type of blood running through my veins. Then none of this would have happened.

I look back down at my bleeding wrists, the blood is still coming in a steady flow and I have not yet started to feel light headed. This is going to take longer than I thought. If only she was still here, if only she hadn't have left, then I wouldn't have to end my life in such a drastic way.

My mind wanders back to third year when Sirius Black was loose on the school. Also the year I got attacked by that damn hippogriff, but now, in my dying moments I confess that it was my fault that the thing attacked me. I remember how he gashed my arm open, the blood blossoming out like it is from my wrists at this moment.

Pureblood.

I remember lazily that, as the oaf carried me back to the castle, that I easily could have done myself if I wasn't such a baby, Hermione had opened the gate for him, making it easier for me to get to the castle and my wound healed. She was the only one kindhearted enough to do something like that.

I only hoped that she actually felt something back for me.

I had thought that she caught glances of me in the halls, that she made a small smile at me once in a while when I passed her, or caught her head moving in my direction as I answered questions for the class.

That was until she smacked me. Merlin that hurt, it was like all the force of a tidal wave smacking into the side of a building. I looked at her after she had done that through slightly teary eyes. She threatened to smack me again.

I backed away from her, hoping that this was not the real Hermione. I wished then that I had not gotten under her skin as I had before. She pulled her wand on me and I ran. I didn't want to think of her like that, mean and evil and cruel like I had been all throughout school to her. I didn't care that she had smacked me across the face, but the look of hate in her eyes when she did it was more than I could bear.

I respectfully avoided her as much as possible for the rest of third year.

Fourth year was when I believed that things were turning around a bit. At the Quidditch World Cup I caught her stealing glances at me as she sat in front of me and my parents. I had no idea why she would do a thing like that, unless of course she did find me attractive.

I pushed the thought from my head as I watched the rest of the match, which lasted a whole two more minutes. As the awarding went on I lost control of my wandering eyes and they met hers. There was a moment there when I hoped she had been looking at me with the same passion I was looking at her.

After the match, my father decided to punish me for stealing glances at the Mudblood that he knew that I still had a crush on. He knew that I was still trying to get her to notice me.

He Crucio-ed me in the silenced tent. I was bleeding and wounded by the time darkness fell. That's when I heard the noises coming from outside the tent. I quickly cleaned myself with a small amount of water and healed my wounds with the spells that I had perfected over the years. I walked out the front door of our lavish tent in time to see my father in the lead of a group of Death Eaters holding Muggles over them like they were dolls.

I ran away towards the woods, finding shelter by a tree just inside the clearing. I had just settled down my breath when I heard the voice of my beloved. "What happened?" she was asking. "Ron, where are you?" she continued.

She muttered Lumos and I saw Weasley on the ground. "Tripped over a tree root," he complained.

I put in a word that I was present and made fun of the size of Weasley's feet.

"Malfoy, go fuck yourself!" Weasley yelled at me.

I taunted him again. "Language, Weasley," I said. Then I dropped my hint. I didn't want Hermione hurt in this stupid Death Eater thing that my father had planned. "Hadn't you better be hurrying along now?" I asked. "You wouldn't like her spotted, would you?"

Because I know I didn't.

We argued for a bit more until they got tired of me and left. I was glad that they would be further into the woods because I didn't want her hurt.

I was still standing silently by the tree, hoping my love would be all right. Then I saw it, the dark mark, come out of the trees. I recognized that as the direction that Hermione had gone and I made my way towards it, not caring about the chance that a Death Eater might have them. In that case I had to save her.

But all I saw through the shade of the braches was the Ministry officials accusing Potter of making the skull in the sky. Yeah, like Perfect Harry Potter would do something like that.

I slipped back into the darkness, thankful that my love was still all right. It was too dangerous for her to be friends with Potter, I realized that.

In the couple of weeks before school started I couldn't think of anything else but her, even though she was on my mind constantly, it seemed as though I could not get her out. There was something about her that allured her to me. I wanted to know what it would feel like to kiss her lips.

In the first couple of weeks of school I saw her more often than ever in the library where she was working on some house elf liberation project. I snuck around the bookshelves and watched her neatly make each little button for the club. I knew that my house elf had been set free by the wonderfully stupid Harry Potter. I thought maybe I should join her little club, but that wouldn't be very Malfoy-ish of me, would it?

I also noticed that she agreed with me over many things during the first couple of weeks of school. But as the weeks wore on she drew farther and farther away from that.

Then there was the horrible and childish 'your mom' fight. One of the most embarrassing moments of my entire childhood. That was the fight that led me to attempt to hex Potter, which led to the cracked-out Moody turning me into a ferret and bouncing me up and down, all the way down the hall.

When I was turned back to my human form, I winced. It wasn't quite as bad as cruciatus, it was more from the embarrassment and humiliation that I winced. There was a nice cut at the top of my forehead, a little trickle of blood falling from it.

Pureblood.

When Potter was chosen as champion of the stupid Triwizard tournament, I was angry. Now he was going to be in even more danger and was undoubtedly going to pull my love into it as well. I didn't want her to be part of that; I wanted her to be safe. I wanted her away from Potter.

While I watched in the library more and more I noticed that sulking dumbass Krum looking at her as well. I wanted to cut his throat at the thought of him touching or even being close to my girl. She was mine, no one else's.

I watched him, but it seemed that he made his move while I wasn't there because she walked into the Yule Ball on his arm. I knew who it was the moment I saw her and could not believe that she looked so much more beautiful than she already was to me. I wanted her more than ever after that.

Then there was the rumor that she was Harry Potter's love. I was so angry at the thought of it. She was mine. I helped the Skeeter woman with the scoop, hoping that, with that, Potter would become embarrassed enough to drop her off and leave her to me. She was mine.

When Potter came back from the third task with a dead Cedric Diggory pulled behind him I knew that something bad had happened to Potter that had something to do with Voldemort. I could feel that Voldemort was coming back to power, that he was going to attack soon.

I spent the entire summer worrying about her.

I got my prefect's badge that summer, loving the fact that I would have some authority over the Potter clan. I would get to be in charge of them.

Then I got to school and find out that Weasley and Hermione also made Prefect.

Not many important things happened between us in fifth year but I had hoped that she would safe with Potter and his damn dreams. I was horrified when I woke near the end of the year to hear that she had gone after Voldemort with Potter. I was terrified for her until she got back.

But she had not come back unharmed as I wish she had. She had hurt her leg in the battle that put my father in prison. I was extremely happy about Potter finally sending him off and letting me have the freedom of my life without him.

The next two years also passed with celerity. Voldemort had not shown himself and school was nearing end. I still had not done anything to proclaim my love for her, she needed to know how I felt before we left school, otherwise we probably would never see each other again.

Near to the end of school, a month until let out, while we were sitting in a rather hasty potions class, I sat in the back, two rows directly behind my love. Her hair moved in a way that I couldn't help but notice the light catching it. I loved it and wanted only to touch it. I wanted to kiss her, I wanted to more than kiss her, I wanted to love her, make love to her. My thoughts had graduated with my age.

As the lesson was brought to a close, all of the students got up out of their chairs and put their stuff together to go to lunch. Hermione luckily had to stay behind to ask Snape something so I lingered in the hall and waited for her departure of the classroom.

When she came out I grabbed her around the waist and pushed her against the wall, taking her mouth in a deep kiss. She fought. Of course, who wouldn't? Though as I kissed her harder and pulled her closer to me I felt her relax against me, after a time she was kissing me back.

I caught her hair tight in my hands, it felt just as soft as I thought it would. It was just as beautiful, it was just as great as I always thought it would be. And her kisses, her mouth was soft and warm and her tongue slipped easily into my mouth as I opened for her.

When we pulled apart, breathless, I looked down on her and smiled. She smiled back, then she kneed me where any man doesn't want to and pushed me away from the wall. She walked away quickly, looking back once or twice to make sure I was still on the floor.

But did she really think that I was going to let it go after that? No, I wanted her for seven years now, she was not going to get away from me that easily.

For the next week I stalked her, incognito of course, and waited for another opportunity get her alone.

I finally got her again after Defense Against the Dark Arts with our new vampire teacher. I did the same as before, pushing her against the wall and kissing her just as hard as before; it ended the same way.

I was still going to have her, I decided on a new approach. I was Head Boy, I could go into her common room and ask her for her damn time for some sort of Head Business, right? I showed my badge to the Pink Lady in the portrait and she opened to show Hermione in the entrance, her head in a book and her hand reaching out, trying to find the portrait that was already open.

When she realized that it wasn't there she looked up from her book to find me there. She gasped. "Malfoy," she said.

"Hermione," I said, I wanted to talk to her, I wanted her to know that I loved her, that I had loved her since the first time I saw her.

She dropped her book and walked over to me, she deftly moved her fingers up my neck and cheek. Then she caught my chin in her hand and pulled me down to her face level, pushing her full lips against mine. I didn't object, and grabbed her around the waist and pulled her up into my body. She moaned into the kiss and started nibbling on my bottom lip.

When we finally broke apart she smiled shyly up at me. "Sorry about—you know," she said embarrassedly. "I wanted to be the one to make the first move."

"I should've made a move seven years ago, but my father and I don't know why I do but I love you, Hermione," I mumbled.

She just smiled and kissed me once more on the lips. "I love you too," she said, resting her head on my shoulder.

I was so happy in that moment, happier than I had ever been in my entire life. She loved me. She was finally mine.

When school was finished I asked her to marry me and she accepted. We were married a year later. Exactly nine months after our marriage she gave me my first son. A year later my second son was born. I finally had the perfect life, the perfect family, the perfect wife.

My father had disappeared following his escape from Azkaban and I had not seen him since fifth year. I hoped more than anything that he was dead along with Voldemort. But following the four year anniversary of our wedding, Voldemort decided to show his face again. He started with the dreams of Potter. He came back slowly, he wanted to make his main attack huge.

Supposedly my father was back as well, according to Potter's dreams. I knew that Hermione, the kids and I had to go into hiding. Voldemort would no doubt kill us all if he found us.

Hermione and I got all of our stuff together as quickly as possible. The two kids had so many things we didn't know if we could get it all. But we did. Hermione left Weasley in charge of Secret Keeper and we fled to a small house outside of London.

We lived in fear as Voldemort killed everyone in our lives. Dumbledore died quickly in the war as well as McGonagall who was right by his side.

Six months later we heard that Snape had been found murdered by the killing curse. Next were Lupin and Moody.

Three months later came the news of Potter's death. The war was over.

Voldemort had won.

There had been no news on Weasley though, he seemed to have disappeared.

We watched the news for another six months in fear, hoping that nothing horrible was happening.

One night my wife walked into our room and gave me a kiss, like every other night. Then she begged me to make love to her, like every other night. I did, like every other night. I told her she would be the death of me, like every other night. Then we went to sleep, like every other night.

When I woke up my walls were being licked with flames that I knew were magical because of their purple color. I looked up and it looked as though the roof had been blown off, I could see the night sky above me.

My arms searched the bed for my love, but she wasn't there. My heart nearly stopped in my chest. Where was she?

I rolled over and grabbed a pair of boxers from my dresser. I slipped them on and walked towards the door when suddenly the fire came down and my father stepped through my unburned bedroom door, holding my struggling, naked wife in his arms, his wand pointed at her throat.

"Draco, Draco," he scolded, sniffing Hermione's hair as she tried to struggle from his grip. "I told you to stay away from the Mudblood. I warned you so many times," he laughed maliciously.

"Let her go," I screamed, realizing that I had left my wand by the bed, it was all the way across the room.

"Now is not the time for threats, Draco," Lucius said, pulling one of his long nails across Hermione's throat, making a small cut that was bleeding softly.

"Draco, please just save the kids," Hermione said softly through her tears of pain.

"No, Hermione, I'm not…"

"I can hear you," Lucius said. "Draco, tell her what she really is, tell her how you really feel about her and I will let her live," he said and I knew that he wanted me to tell her that she was a filthy Mudblood, that she was not worthy of anything.

He would kill her anyway and I didn't want her to die thinking that I thought of her as nothing, because she wasn't.

"She is the most beautiful woman in the world and I love her more than anyone could ever imagine," I said with tears in my eyes, knowing that my words meant her death.

"I love you too, Draco," she cried softly before my father whispered the curse that I wished he would've used on me all those years ago.

I will never forget that flash of green light, because in the moment of that flash I lunged forward and wrapped my hands around my fathers neck and tackled him to the floor. I smashed his head against the hardwood floor. "I—hate—you," I said, punctuating each word with a crash of his head.

He let out a strangled cry and tried to wrench free of my grip. I held him tighter around the neck and smashed his head against the floor again. This time I heard the sickening crunch of bone and knew that I had cracked his skull with the strength that I had put into it. But I continued in my fury, getting out all of my frustrations from this man out on him even after his death.

I hit his head against that floor long after it was pulp, an unrecognizable bloody mess. I murdered my own father, I killed him with my bare hands. His life for my wife's. I wiped his blood from my hands.

Pureblood.

I looked back to the lifeless form of my love. My Hermione. I softly kissed her cold cheeks, her eyes and finally her lips.

"I love you, so much Hermione. I told you that you would be the death of me. Soon," I said softly, my tears falling deaf on her motionless face.

I walked over the bloody carcass of my father and into my children's room. Both were dead. "Soon," I said to them as well, kissing them both of their lifeless, pale faces on the cheeks and foreheads.

I walked back into my room and dragged what was left of my father out of the house. I didn't want him contaminating the best part of my life. My home, my family, my life. He took everything from me, long before he gave me life, long after his own ended.

I threw him into the trunk of our muggle car. Then I stood outside my house, I held my wand tightly in my hand. I muttered the word that would give my family a proper burial. "Incendio."

I drove the muggle car to my old house. Malfoy Manor. I dragged the carcass of my father through the house, leaving a trail of his blood. I brought him out back to where the animals were. Even though no one had inhabited the house for years, the keepers were still on payroll and took care of the small zoo that I had had as a child.

I went around to the back where the Phroupoeyz were. I saw the gold coats of the Mohawk-ed penguins and I sighed a breath of relief. I opened the gate and dragged my father in. The Phroupoeyz looked at me with deep black eyes and I tossed the body towards them. I gave them all a nod and purple fire came from all of their mouths, covering my father's body in it.

He was scorched until well done, then the Phroupoeyz started ripping him apart with their sharp beaks. I hoped that by morning he would not be recognizable enough for the keepers to know that it was him.

Now I'm sitting on the side of this tub, watching the blood flowing from my wrists. I'm starting to see spots and I think I am almost at death. Almost where I have wanted to be since I was born.

I watch the red blood fall into the tub and down the drain.

Pureblood.

The blood that I hate.

My world goes black, my last coherent thought being that soon I will be with my love.

Soon.

A/N: And if you have read my other story, you knew that something bad was going to happen as soon as I said that Weasley was secret keeper.

Thank you for reading and please review!

Love and Lemons

Brittany