A/N: This is my first attempt at fanfiction, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I am writing it. I'm going for novel length, so you will have to bear with me. The first few chapters are dark, but set up for the rest of the story. I have this written up to chapter 24, so updates will be really quick until I get to that point. Also, my writing style has changed a lot since starting this, and I hope to go back and fix the first 10 or so chapters after I'm finished if I have time. Chapter 5 contains rape (not super graphic but it is there). It's not necessary to read though, you just have to know that it happens so you can skip that chapter if you want. Anywhoo, on with the story :)

"Love is like a role that we play."

- Dashboard Confessional


Two Different Worlds


"...I love you Hermione Granger, I always have."

"And I love you…" she whispered her reply. Their eyes fluttered shut as they leaned towards one another. Closing the gap and embracing whilst his hands sought out the gentle curve of her lower back. Their lips brushed, and the rest of the world fell away. This was it. This was the man she was meant to spend the rest of her life with. Warmth flowed through their bodies at the point of contact, filling her with the red-hot heat. From the tips of her toes to the lids of her eyes, it created a soft orange glow surrounding and consuming them.

Hermione Granger turned over in her sleep, away from the stream of sunlight peering through the window. When she awoke some thirty minutes later, she felt oddly content, but the cause had already slipped away into her unconscious.

Stretching her arms over head, the last remnants of sleep left her body and she felt truly relaxed for the first time all summer. She had three glorious days to herself before heading off to the Burrow. Her parents were away for business purposes and she had told them she would be heading off to the Burrow that day, while telling Ron and Harry her parents weren't leaving until the 15th, so she didn't want to leave until then. Not that she didn't love seeing her parents, or miss Ron, Harry, Ginny, and the rest of the Weasley clan tremendously, she just felt the alone time would give her a chance to unwind. It was an incredibly stressful time for all the wizarding world, and living in a middle class suburban neighborhood seemed to take away some of the fear that was almost overwhelming the wizarding community. She wanted to savor this time while she could.

As she rolled herself out of bed, she realized she had encased her large ginger cat inside her comforter, and she laughed out loud as the poor beast hissed and growled while trying to free himself from his newfound cotton cocoon. Finally taking pity on him, she picked up the blanket, while relishing the sensation of her laughter, as it hadn't been an everyday feeling anymore.

"So what shall we do today Crookshanks?" she asked her cat once he had calmed down from the traumatizing experience of the morning. He just gave her a low meow that clearly said 'you do what you want, I'm going back to sleep,' as he slumped back down on her pillow and promptly did so.

"Err you're no fun," she glowered at him. 'I'm supposed to be relaxing not having conversations with my cat' Hermione reminded herself. On that note, she threw on a bathing suite and grabbed her favorite book, Hogwarts, A History and strode down to the pool.

As the sun beat down on her lightly tanned skin, and she reread the story of Rowena Ravenclaw's heritage for the seventy millionth time, she started to drift off to sleep.

What felt like minutes later she awoke with a start. She almost thought for a second she had fallen off her floatie, only to realize that the drastic change in temperature wasn't from the water, it was just the weather. The eerie fog had returned, evidently brought in by the now strong winds. She quickly paddled herself to the stairs to get out, careful not to get the pages of her beloved book wet.

Back inside, she defrosted herself a sad excuse for a wholesome meal and curled up on a squashy armchair, content to spend the day immersed in historical facts and figures. It didn't take long before she was right where she left off, fast asleep.

"Get up you filthy foul disappointment of mine," came the eerily high-pitched hiss of the Dark Lord, splitting the stale air like a whip. Draco Malfoy immediately obeyed, not daring to break a direct order. He felt every movement of muscle and joint as he made the difficult ascent, knowing that what he was about to confront involved pain in every form of the word. Physical and magical abuse… The Cruciatus curse was almost tame compared to the many new torture spells that were 'tested' on Draco on a regular basis.

Then there were always the visits from his father to look forward to. Lucius had taken it upon himself to restore the Malfoy name in the eyes of the Death Eaters. This meant that he dealt with his only son in much of the same manner as his master did; with hate and disgust, exemplified by inflicting pain. They differed in only one aspect. Whereas the Dark Lord only used his wand, so as not to 'dirty' himself, his father preferred manual force. The bruises he had inflicted penetrated so deep, Draco was convinced they would never heal.

This was how he had spent his summer after the fall of Dumbledore. All because he had shown an inkling of weakness; the tiniest hint of hesitation, on the verge of murder. The injustice of it all made his blood boil. He knew better than to have these feelings though, and quickly closed them off in his mind. Still, he stared fixedly at a pebble on the ground. The Dark Lord was a much better at Occlumency than he was, not to mention he had a wand.

Draco heard the creak of the metal cell bars as they parted to allow entrance into the damp room. His eyes remained glued to the floor, but he somehow managed a brave step forward. Ice cold swept through him when his bare feet met with the cement that hadn't been warmed by body heat, and he shivered involuntarily.

'Weakness…' If there was one rule in the Death Eater headquarters, it was never show weakness. He swallowed and braced himself for the blow.

It didn't come. Draco couldn't help but to raise his eyes a fraction of an inch to discover what had hindered the imminent curse. He moved slowly, making sure his line of sight cut off below the neck. The Dark Lord stood in front of him, skeletal and wretched as ever in black billowing robes. He was lovingly fingering his wand between his hands, apparently in deep thought over something.

"Do I disgust you, Draco?"

"No, my Lord."

"Liar," he spat calmly. "No matter, your merciful Lord will allow you to prove yourself. Look at me Draco. Don't you want to know how you are going to prove yourself?"

He didn't.

"Yes, my Lord."

"Look at me when I'm talking to you before I change my mind."

Draco finally raised his eyes and immediately felt the bile rise in his throat. The man responsible for death and destruction across an entire continent was standing in front of him with something like triumph in his blood red slit eyes.

"We're going to play a little game. I am going to use the Cruciatus curse, and you are going to scream for me. Then just when I think I've reached the point of no return, I'll continue on for a bit longer. Does that sound like fun, Draco?"

"No, my Lord," he choked out.

"Well now, isn't that a pity. Crucio!"

Draco fell to the ground, writhing with the pain of hundreds of needles slicing him at once. It tore at his fresh wounds without ever breaking the skin. He felt his organs contorting and his blood boiling, burning through to his soul. It was too much and he cried out at the pain. Maniacal laughter rang in his ears, louder even than his own murderous screaming. He couldn't take it anymore. He wanted it to end.

He saw only a dull white light and felt the pain subside. For one fleeting moment he thought his plea had been obliged and that he had died. Then his senses returned to him, and the echoes of the cruel laugh of Lord Voldemort once again cut through his broken body.

"All in good time," he hissed, reading Draco's thoughts. "Firstly though, you will repay me for the mercy I have shown to you and your worthless father. Severus has spun a brilliant web of lies to get you back into the good graces of the Order. Even enough to possibly secure the position of Head Boy for you. This is most important for the plan to succeed. No doubt the filthy mudblood one woman Potter fan club will be Head Girl. Match made in heaven, don't you agree Draco?"

"No, my Lord."

"Well then, lucky for me it doesn't matter what you think. Now, don't you wish to know what use a pathetic excuse for a wizard like yourself could possibly have?"

Draco knew the Dark Lord was planning something big. He had gotten wind of that much from snippets of Death Eater conversations. Curious as to how he was involved with the plan, he cleared his throat and gave the being in front of him his full attention, feeling a little bit of the power he used to feel return to him.

"Yes, my Lord."

"First let me make it clear that if I find out you are not taking your duty seriously, I will not hesitate to kill you," the Dark Lord said formally, in a tone that suggested murder was a simple business practice. Draco only gulped, and let his master continue.

"The Death Eaters are just proving their worthlessness more and more every day. I need someone I can actually rely on…. Like a son…. To carry on the noble bloodline of Salazar Slytherin. To do so I would of course require the most brilliant witch of the age. This has been most difficult to decide. Who could possibly be worthy enough to carry the child of the greatest sorcerer to ever live? Then I thought to myself, it isn't as much about worthiness, as about who would give me the strongest heir, and make the biggest impact on the wizarding world at the same time…"

Draco's mouth involuntarily opened slightly as the words started to sink in. Someone was going to have to reproduce with that. He quickly thanked Merlin for his man parts, feeling a pang of grief for the poor witch. As bad as it sounded, it seemed as if he would be released from this prison in order fulfill his duties though, and that was enough of a reason to do anything the Dark Lord commanded of him, even if the repercussions in the future would probably be substantial.

"…Of course Granger would be the obvious choice. I might as well make some use of the mudblood besides target practice. Tonight she will be injected with a fertility potion, I will rape her, and she will grow my heir inside her filthy unworthy body. Once he is born no one will be able control him. The blood of Slytherin will certify that he turns out to be just as powerful as I. He may even kill the mudblood for me during birth, just as I killed my mother. He will be my greatest achievement…"

"I'm sorry my Lord, but where do I come in?" Draco had to ask, in a most uncharacteristic whisper. Malfoys spoke to others as if they were lower than them, not the other way around.

"You will need to keep an eye on her, make sure she is not doing anything that could harm my heir. I doubt she could actually kill her own child, stupid Gryffindor, they are so bloody trusting and righteous it makes me sick. Probably believes that a good upbringing and love will make anyone turn out to be the next golden hero boy. Their ignorance is their greatest weakness. More specific duties will be shown to you in due course, but as the one person who knows the truth, it will be up to you to lead her along. If anything happens to my heir, you will be named responsible. My tolerance of your failures has reached its limit. One more and you will die, and the last thing you will bare witness to is the brutal murder of your dear mother. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, my Lord," he said quietly, feeling as if there had to be more to his new 'mission,' that was let on. It seemed to good to be true. He was going to be freed and the mudblood was going to have the Dark Lord's baby.

"Then I believe we are through here. There is only one more order of business to settle… Crucio!"

For the second time Draco fell to the dirty ground, writhing in agony as the curse tore through him.

"Pathetic. That was only a taste Draco," Lord Voldemort spoke, ending the curse as though bored with the proceedings. Draco remained curled on the ground, his beaten body no longer responsive. "You will deliver me my heir, or you will die."

With that he swept from the cell in a rustle of robes.