I do not own Harry Potter or Fifty Shades of Grey. This fanfiction is purely for fun!
Setting - AU , 1864, London, England, non-human Draco
Rated M for future violence and sexual content.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
When Hermione had been four years old, her mother had died. She couldn't remember her really and when she did try to remember, she just got flashes of images. Long, brown hair being carefully brushed. Soft yet strong hands kneading a thick wad of dough. A smile, Always a smile, lighting up dark brown eyes. Sometimes, although she felt awful and selfish for thinking it, she was glad that she'd been so young when her mother had passed. You couldn't miss what you didn't remember. Or so she told herself, over and over again, whenever the abscence of her mother began to ache at her chest and cause tears to well in her eyes. Right now she was having one of those moments. Her eyes were squeezed shut and a hand was pressed into the fabric of dress, against her chest; As if she could push away the pain that ebbed there. If her mother had been alive, then surely she wouldn't have sent her away? Away from her family to live a life of servitude in a strange city? In all honesty, Hermione didn't know if her heart ached because she missed her mother or because she had been sent away by her father and step mother. Maybe it was both.
"Nearly there, Miss."
Blinking open her eyes, Hermione quickly leaned forward in the carraige she was currently sat in and pulled back the curtain so that she could peek out of the carraige window. Gray. All she could see was gray. Gray sky, gray streets. It was so glum. Not at all like sunny Brighton, her home town. Another ache caused her heart to throb painfully against her chest and she dropped her hand, allowing the curtain to fall shut again. This is it, she thought. This is my new life. She couldn't help but think that this was some sort of punishment. Punishment for being different. Because she'd dared to tell her father that she saw things. Unnatural things. The sort of things that people have nightmares about. At the time he'd said that her mother saw things too, when she'd been alive. That it was what drove her to her insanity and ultimately, her death. Her father had claimed that he didn't want that for Hermione, sending her away was the best option for her. Of course it didn't help that Beatrice, her stepmother, hated her. It was no secret that the older woman wanted Hermione gone, so it didn't surprise Hermione that when the chance came, Beatrice grabbed it with both hands. When the time had come for her to leave, Hermione had been so angry that she refused to speak to her father and on the night the carraige came to take her away, she had packed her things and had left, without so much as a goodbye.
Frowning, Hermione leaned back into the carraige seat. She felt guilty for not saying goodbye to her father. When she closed her eyes she could still see his face, hurt, eyes brimming with tears behind his glasses. A part of her couldn't blame him for letting her go, he did genuinely seem to think that her going would be for the best. "You can have a new and exciting life" her father had exlaimed. "Everyone wants to live in London, Hermione! It's a city of dreams!" But another part of her was so angry for letting his daughter ride off with complete strangers to live a life of servitude whilst her stepsister got to stay at home. Who was he to pick and choose what she did with her life? Who was he to say what was best for her?
Sighing, because this train of thought was starting to give her a sore head, Hermione pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and lightly dabbed at her eyes. It would do her no good to show up at her new home with tears streaming down her face. Giving the impression of weakness would be a very bad start and right now she needed to be strong, if only to keep her sanity. Just then the carraige came to an abrupt halt. "We're 'ere miss!"
Hermione took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. Everything will be fine, she told herself as the carraige door swung open and she climbed out. The building that loomed before her was a dark and magnificent thing and for a moment she was confused. "Excuse me, but, is this it?" she asked, looking to the driver as he unloaded her suitcase. "Yes miss." He nodded and indicated for her to follow. Hermione looked again to the Mansion, slightly baffled but also a little intruigged, she hadn't expected to be going to a Manor, and followed behind the young male. They passed through the front gates, and headed towards the large double doors of the building, which opened, as if someone had been waiting for their arrival, just as they approached. "Ah, Ron, you're back." A woman, who looked to be in her late 60's, dressed in a nightgown and slippers, opened the door further and stepped aside so that the boy called Ron, and Hermione, could enter. "And you must be Miss. Granger." Hermione bopped her head in greeting, forcing a small smile.
"Welcome to Malfoy Manor. My name is Molly Weasley, I'm the Head House Maid." Molly smiled and then turned her hand to the boy called Ron, "This is my son Ronald-" she'd barely said his name before Ron sighed and shook his head, muttering 'It's Ron' under his breath. Hermione felt her lips twitch lightly when Molly turned an angry glare on her son for the interruption. "Come now, Miss Granger, I'll show you to your quarters, you must be exhausted from your trip." She ushered Hermione further into the Foyer, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
"Am I to meet the Lady of the house tonight?" Hermione asked, her eyes darting about her surroundings as they made their way down a corridor. The Manor was large, very large in fact. Hermione hadn't ever been in a building so grand, well, except the Library in her hometown of Brighton. "Not tonight Miss Granger. It's very late, Mrs Malfoy has already retired." Molly explained quickly and quietly as they took a flight of stairs that lead deeper into the Manor. Hermione felt as if she were entering the belly of a large beast and a shiver shook it's way down her spine. "Oh, of course." She whispered, her eyes glancing at the candles that lined the walls along the corridor. The flames flickered and bounced off of the walls, creating shadows that danced and loomed over her, another shiver and she trained her eyes forward.
"This is where the rest of the staff sleep." Molly explained, but Hermione wasn't listening because something had caught her attention. Stopping in her tracks, Hermione frowned and pressed a hand to her chest. "What is that?" she wandered, as an unusual and forgeign feeling tightened around her heart. It wasn't a painful experience but it did make her catch her breath. Finally she looked to Molly who was staring at her with wide eyes, giving her a look that Hermione could only describe as a mix of pity and horror. It was a startling change from the cheery smiled she'd been wearing earlier. "Mrs, Weasley. What is it?" Hermione asked, anxious, the feeling in her chest momentarily forgotten. "Oh you poor girl. You must ignore it, do you understand?" And then the squat woman moved to rest a hand over Hermione's heart. "Do not let it consume you, Miss Granger. It will do you no good."
"I beg your pardon?" Hermione asked, completely taken back by Molly's actions and words. "What ever do you mean?" A soft moan rang along the corridor, cathcing Hermione's attention. She blinked her eyes hard, straining them to see into the dark that shadowed an alcove in the corridor. Molly didn't flinch. "Did you hear that?" she asked and furrowed her brow, turning her confused eyes back to Molly. The older woman stared in silence for a few beats longer before she let out a quiet, resigned sigh and lowered her hand. "That would be the young Mr Malfoy, Miss." She said, her smile tight. "Mr. Malfoy." She called out, though not very loudly and Hermione couldn't help but think that this woman was not quite sane. But then, as if he'd been born from the shadows, a figure appeared from the alcove Hermione had been straining to see into just moments before.
Completely bewildered, Hemione squinted to see who it was that was stood a little ways from them. He was still protected by the shadow of the alcove but when he did finally step into the light of a candle, Hermione felt her mouth drop open. Before her stood the most beautiful man she had ever laid eyes on. He couldn't have been any older than she. His hair, a pale blonde that almost looked a white-silver in the candle light, was startling, a colour she had never seen on a person before. His skin looked very pale too in the flickering light of the candles and his eyes, oh his eyes, they were a startling shade of grey that stood out even though a considerable amount of space seperated them. Finally her eyes fell to his mouth and the smirk that was curving his lips. He was smirking. At her. Hermione clamped her mouth shut and pressed her lips into a hand line, lowering her eyes to the floor. Her cheeks were flushed a bright red. Oh please, kill me now. It was impolite to stare, rude even, and completely embarrassing that she'd been caught in the act.
"Molly." The newcomer, , finally spoke. Hermione didn't lift her eyes, the peculiar feeling that she'd felt earlier fluttered in her chest, stronger this time and she marveled at the feel of it. What was it? Maybe she wasn't feeling too well. Though it wasn't an unpleasant feeling. "And who might this be?"
"Mr Malfoy. This is Miss Granger. The Houses new Parlour Maid." Molly spoke, her voice clipped. "Miss Granger, this is Mr. Draco Malfoy, son of Mr and Mrs Malfoy."
Hermione lifted her head at the mention of her name, gasping again, when her eyes met the intense grey gaze staring down at her. Her chest fluttered, much more forcefully this time and for a moment, Hermione wondered if it was this man who was the one envoking the pull she felt inside. But how could that be? She'd only just met him and she'd felt the pull minutes before she had laid eyes on him. "Mr. Malfoy." Hermione said finally, once she'd gathered her wits about her and dipped into a curtsey. He smirked again, his grey eyes gleaming in the candle light.
"I do hope you aren't bothering my staff after dark, Mr Malfoy." Molly spoke finally. Hermione quickly blinked and tore her eyes away from the intense stare of the man stood before her.
"I think you'll find it's they who have been bothering me, Molly." His grin was wicked and dark and Hermione couldn't help but stare at him again. "Lavender required some help with an innocent task, I was only too happy to oblige." His words rolled off of his tongue, quiet and smooth. Hermione gaped, she had a feeling that the "task" he was talking about had been anything but innocent. Her feelings were confirmed when Molly, who had pressed her thin lips into a hard line, called Lavenders name. There was a moment of silence and then the sound of scurrying footsteps echoed down the long corridor and another figure appeared from the alcove.
Oh my.. A girl, who looked to be about Hermione's age, hurried forward to stand beside Draco, her head bowed. Even in the pale candlelight, Hermione could see that the other girl was blushing. Her hair was up in a messy bun, as if she'd been hurrying to fix it up and the buttons on the front of her dress were done up wrong. Uncomfortable, because her suspisions had been confirmed, Hermione dropped her eyes to the floor.
"Lavender Brown, I want you back in your bed this instant. Breakfast starts in six hours and you're up in four." Molly scolded, and Hermione peeked up from under her eye lashes just in time to see Lavender quickly bob her head, mumble a 'yes miss' and disappear down the corridor. "Now Mr. Malfoy, if you don't mind I have to show Miss Granger to her room, it is her first day tomorrow and she's up early."
"I could do that, if you like."
Hermione quickly looked up from the ground, her mouth gaping, again, in an un-lady like manner. Draco was staring at her again, mischief dancing in his grey eyes. Hermione blushed, unable to believe the audacity of the young male before her. "I really don't think that will be necessary Mr. Malfoy. Please, retire to your room. I'm afraid your father won't be very happy if he finds that you've been down here."
Everything about Draco's demeanor suddnely changed then. Hermione blinked as she watched his expression shift from amused and open, to something much darker. "Be careful, Molly." He warned, the corner of his mouth tight, his eyes were hard and his expression was impassive, closed off.
"Goodnight, Mr. Malfoy." Molly, seemingly unfazed by the shift in Draco, took Hermione by the wrist and began to tug her down the corridor. Bewildered by everything that had just transpired, Hermione cast a furtive glance behind her shoulder and blinked as she stared back into an empty corridor. Where had Draco gone? It was as if he had melted back into the shadows he had emerged from. Like a creature of the night.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Thankyou for reading :)
More to come soon!