Disclaimer: Never have I wanted Harry Potter to be mine. For it is better off being owned by one of the most gracious ladies. I, however, am reputed to be evil and Harry Potter in my hands would only cause the world utmost disaster. I can actually picture it; children running around in the streets, screaming, their eyes wide with fear and terrified. And me just sitting in my room, lazing on the couch, reading all the hate mails I receive, a maniacal smirk placed upon my lips...
Title: Artificial Identity
Author: Goddess of Angels
Author's Note: Please, read it carefully until the very end. I promise there is a good reason to everything that I have written.
- Written for Kireina Kanjou in the Spring Forward Draco and Hermione Fic Exchange
Beta: A huge cheer and applause for the wonderful innocenteen.
Summary: He had made her into someone she was not. One-shot. Draco-Hermione.
She was his. Her bushy hair tangled in his fingers, her soft lips pressing against his, her deep brown eyes looking down into his, his long fingers gripping her shoulders... she was only his.
It could have been bliss, if only she hadn't been crying.
He drew back from the kiss and slapped her.
"How many times have I told you not to cry?" he snarled. "How many fucking times?"
She gave a silent sob but didn't reply. She bowed her neck and listened to him scold her and then apologise and plant kisses all over her face. The only thing Draco Malfoy couldn't stand was seeing his wife cry.
He didn't want people to think that they were an unhappy couple. Of course they were happy! There weren't any problems. He couldn't imagine why she wouldn't be happy. She had someone like him.
Draco Malfoy was the richest wizard in Britain. He had inherited the whole of the Malfoy estate and the Black estate through his parents. He owned land everywhere. He owned a part of everything you could see, everything you could touch, and everything you could want.
He was also one of the most powerful wizards in Britain. After the rise of the Dark Lord, and the fall of the light, he had been awarded many weapons and powers. He even ordered the Minister of Magic around, who was none other than Blaise Zabini. He had the power to change the laws according to what worked for him best. Actually, there weren't any proper laws left anyway.
Lastly, Draco Malfoy was quite handsome.
He had everything a girl could possibly want. There was no reason to why his wife shouldn't be happy with him. He had given her everything she could have wanted; diamonds, beautiful dresses, high-class friends, fame... She took it all and she loved it all.
Also, he loved her, she told him she loved him; and he was damn certain she was telling the truth, but she kept on crying.
She was actually quite pretty, but he gave her a potion that made her prettier. He couldn't understand what she was complaining about. She kept on telling him what he was doing was wrong, but he didn't think it was wrong. He wasn't doing anything bad. He was only... making her look better. She should be appreciating that. But no, every time she drank that potion, she started crying.
She had tried to stop drinking it. She had broken the cups she was served the potion in, or poured it down the drain, but it didn't work. If she didn't drink it, he refused to see her. So she kept on crying.
She wanted him to accept her the way she was; but that was ridiculous.
What irritated Draco the most was that she started crying every time he pronounced her name. He didn't understand it. Why did she start crying when she heard her name? Her name and his actually sounded very nice together.
"Hermione" and "Draco"
"Hermione" and "Draco"
"Hermione" and "Draco"
She should have been appreciating it. She kept on telling him to stop what he was doing. She kept on begging him to stop what he was doing. She asked him to stop calling her "Hermione". But, why should he? It was his right to call his wife by her name. He certainly was not going to call her "Granger" or anything else.
He was happy with having her. For years, he had wanted her to be his. He had liked her for ages. He had actually liked the way she was a bossy know-it-all, the way she thought she was better than him. He actually found it amusing that she thought she was better, but he liked it. No one before had had the courage to stand up to him, to slap him.
He had wanted her without even knowing it.
He had truly realised that he wanted her to be his three years ago, just after the final battle.
He had been wondering around in the battlefield, his face up in a weird smirk, still in disbelief that they had won the war. He was glancing from corpse to corpse, laughing evilly and enjoying the sight of the people dead and covered in blood.
The sun had just descended to its place behind the mountains, as if bidding farewell to the light side, and black clouds had approached. The night was slowly creeping over, covering the horrendous sight of the dead bodies scattered all around the damp earth.
Then, he saw her. She was lying down on the ground, her face deadly pale, her eyelids loosely shut and her hair covered in a mixture of mud and blood. Her lips were almost blue. He bent down and looked at her. She wasn't breathing. He just grabbed a strand of her hair and shoved it in his pocket, so that he could be reminded of her later.
A while later, he saw her again. This time, she was leaning against a rock, blood all over her, but she was alive. Her hair wasn't as bushy, her eyes weren't as brown, and her skin wasn't as smooth, but with a little of cleaning up and drinking some of the potion that would be prepared, she would become just as good.
He slowly picked her up, and took her with him. When they arrived home, he handed her over to the house elves to clean her up and make the necessary adjustments.
Then, she became his wife.
Not Potter's. Not Weasley's.
She became his, only his, and he swore that she would remain his until the end of her life.
He woke up again, and saw her lying next to him. He didn't want to look at her. Somehow, in the mornings, and only in the mornings, she would not be as beautiful as she usually was. Her hair appeared an odd shade of blonde, her skin turned slightly fair, even her lips weren't as soft and kissable. He was sure it was only a trick of the light, but he didn't like looking at her when she looked like that.
He quickly rose from the bed, grabbed his casual robes from the wardrobe and headed down for breakfast. Soon, he knew, she would come down too, and she would look just as pretty as she was the night before.
Ten minutes later, as he had predicted, she came down to breakfast. She was wearing rich green robes, and her curly hair was reaching her shoulders and she looked beautiful.
He preferred to ignore the hazy and blue look on her face. He barely even noticed it, because that expression had been a part of his life for so long, he had learnt to act as if it weren't there. She calmly sat down opposite of him, picked up the silver knife and begun cutting into her omelette.
"Hermione…" Draco begun, but stopped when he saw tears rolling down her cheeks. He sighed deeply and asked. "Why are you crying again? What is wrong this time?"
She whimpered and her lower lip trembled. She looked up at him, into his eyes, and asked.
"Draco, why are you doing this to me? What have I done to you?"
He looked at her bluntly. He wasn't going to reply. This wasn't the first time she had asked that question. He never replied. But she had to understand, she needed to understand. That was the only way, the only way…
"You don't love me, do you?"
He suddenly stopped, slowly placed his knife and fork on the table, and looked at her, appalled by the question.
"Of course I love you, how could you think of such thing? Hermione, you're the only one…"
She looked at him in great disbelief and shook her head. She harshly stood up from the table causing her chair to fall onto the marble and ran upstairs.
She hated this.
She hated what he was doing to her.
Many years ago, while they were still students at Hogwarts, she had loved him. Even though she knew she wasn't good enough for him, even though she knew he would never look at her that way, she had loved him.
Then, years later, when he had taken her in after the final battle, she had thought she had won. He was finally hers. There was no one, nothing else that could separate them. She could touch his hair freely, look into his deep grey eyes and know that he was hers, and no one could separate them.
She was wrong.
Although her wish had come true, she was certain this wasn't the way that she had wanted it to be.
She didn't really understand why he was doing this to her. It was just so wrong. She shouldn't be drinking that potion. Even though he insisted that it only made her look prettier, she found it outrageous.
Every morning she would wake up and wait for hours for him to wake up and look at her.
Just look at her.
See her the way she actually was. But no, he never did that. He didn't even spare a glance to the side. He walked towards the wardrobe, grabbed a robe and headed down to breakfast.
She was sick and tired of it. She wanted to be accepted the way she was. She wanted him to understand that she was not the person he made her into.
He was only fooling himself.
She had tried many times simply not to drink it. She had defied him. But no matter what, he always won. He refused to see her, he erased his own memory, but he made sure that his mind held no trace of the past and of whom she really was.
He had convinced himself that nothing was wrong. He was slowly starting to believe that she was the girl he made her. But she was not. She was not the girl he knew, he loved, he wanted. However, Draco just refused to see beyond some things.
She had been in the room for nearly an hour. The effect of the potion was slowly wearing off. She grabbed another flask from her inner pocket and drank it.
She looked into the mirror and slowly watched herself change into someone she wasn't. Someone she was never meant to be. Someone she was made into.
Pansy hated Hermione Granger.
She hated her because she was the only one Draco Malfoy had truly loved.
And Pansy hated the Polyjuice Potion.
She hated it because it easily turned her into Hermione Granger.
And she hated it because no one could tell the difference.
Not even her.
A/N: So, yes... I admit. I'm evil and I had great fun torturing Pansy.
Well, actually no. Unlike many of the other authors here, I actually like Pansy. She is a very intriguing character who is mercilessly being trashed by Draco-Hermione shippers and certainly deserves more attention. She definitely is not the bitch many people make her to be. She has more to her in character... So okay, I'll stop lecturing you. Most of you probably don't agree with me on the point about Pansy, but whatever...
Are you surprised? Did you like it? Did you understand it? Tell me!
Name/Pen Name: kireina kanjou
LJ Username: kireinakanjou
Are you over 18: Oh yeah and add five years.
Rating(s) you're willing to write: G - (hard) R
Rating(s) of the fic you want: G - (hard) R
One tone/mood you want your gift to include: Surprise me! (No, really; I'm giving the author creative freedom.)
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One common cliche you don't your gift to include: Headboy/Headgirl thing in their seventh years