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Affliction
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Draco/Hermione
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
8
Views:
11,191
Reviews:
44
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Draco/Hermione
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
8
Views:
11,191
Reviews:
44
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
grey eyes
A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews and the positive feedback! I figure I will have this story caught up to chapter six by Friday but after that I’ll try to post once or twice a week. A big thanks go to NelStar7 for doing a magnificent job at Beta Reading this story!
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Affliction
Chapter Two: Grey Eyes
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Hermione woke up feeling so upset and confused. She was confused because early dawn, Ron tried to make love to her and upset because she let him.
She couldn’t believe how stupid she was. She had just found out her husband cheated on her and she willingly let him bed her! So here she was distressed because he got the best of her and distraught because she was lying to herself; he didn’t make love to her, he fucked her.
It started out with a few comforting kisses and she clung onto those kisses desperately. She wanted something, anything that would keep her from drowning. All she could do was feel; so she felt. Every time he touched her and every kiss that met her skin, made her feel dirty and cheap.
She felt desperate. Somewhere in the crevices of her subconscious told her this was wrong, sick even. She didn’t care, she’d laid there mindlessly gazing at the streak of sweat seeping from his bright red tousled hair, trailing a path down his blotchy forehead, over his bright red brow and falling on her cheek. Her hand reached up to brush away his sweat from her face and she was shocked to find her face drenched with tears.
She desperately tried to get him to look at her, kiss her, just notice her presence as his wife. He wouldn’t even do that for her, he kept his eyes closed and buried his face in the crook of her neck. She gave up and turned her head towards the window to watch the dark, dreary morning greet her.
She felt his slow deep thrust quicken and knew it would be over soon. She continued gazing out of the window across from their bed. She wondered if it was normal to consider sex with your husband a chore. She’d never felt that way before, she had always felt that they had their differences that needed to be worked out but for some reason knowing that he’d been having a sex life with another women made her wonder if it was just her, not him.
It soon ended up with him climaxing, her not, him hoping in the shower, and a departing with a kiss goodbye for his early morning training, her rolling over and crying for a relationship that was not healthy, but one she still couldn’t part from.
Even though she felt so used and betrayed, she couldn’t leave him. Maybe it was all those years they spent in this relationship, five years filled to the brim with happiness, unsure touches, exploring kisses then later passionate nights, but when she really thought about it, those so called happy memories withered away three years ago.
Those unsure touches became expected, those exploring kisses became demanding, and those passionate nights, became a release for Ron, and a way for her to save a drowning relationship.
Another tear fell, she angrily swiped it away, why is he doing this to me? Why am I letting him? Why can’t I leave him? She sighed; I can’t leave him, because as twisted as it is, I still love him.
She tried to brush the tears off her face, but the tears left her hand soaked with the salty liquid. She pulled her hair and screamed,
‘Why am I still crying over him,’ she sobbed. She needed a drink to calm her nerves, just one that would placate her, so she could go back to sleep. She opened and poured herself a glass of firewhiskey. She needed this, she didn’t want to feel right now, she craved to be numb.
‘Just a little numb,’ she pleaded as she drank. She liked it, it warmed her throat and burned her lungs as it slowly slid down, it started the butterflies in her stomach again… the butterflies she felt with Ron years ago, when they were younger, when they were in love.
She poured herself another glass.
The liquid was bitter and it burned all the way down but strangely it brought her a gitty feeling filled with butterflies and tingles; she had forgotten how a tingle felt. She sobbed.
She felt pathetic having to lower herself to drinking to feel any sort of happiness or love. She’d never thought that she would reach such a low point but this was her life now; a life filled with sorrow, heart rendering misery and uncertainty.
She just wanted to be happy. She felt she at least deserved that! After everything she endured and everything she’d given up something out there didn’t want to see her happy. After giving up her childhood to fight a war, after losing her parents to that same war and after giving up everything for Ron’s happiness still wouldn’t buy her happiness for her.
Hermione was feeling every emotion she could feel at a time like this; misery, weak, confusion, humiliated and anger! Fuck fate or any other higher magical being out there, she couldn’t understand how Ron could do this to her!
She picked up the last nights forgotten daily prophet and screamed. On the front page was a picture of the red headed bastard grinning back at her the title above read:
Chudley Cannon’s new keeper a success! Can this dazzling keeper bring Cannon’s out of dry spell?
“I got him that damn job!” She screamed while throwing the mocking paper across the room.
“I was there when he was poor and didn’t have a galleon!” She yelled, “I was there when he didn’t get drafted for three years!” She pushed over the kitchen table, “Not that bitch, I held him at night when he cried over not getting a job!”
She threw the empty glass at the wall, “I supported him, I paid for everything he needed!” She cried.
Right now all she wanted to do was crawl inside herself and feel peace, she couldn’t even do that, his actions had destroyed her so completely that she couldn’t even find peace, and what was worst was that he was still happy and a even ‘dazzling success’. She slid down the wall and took a swig of firewhiskey straight from the bottle, looking at the destroyed kitchen, dazed.
She never thought her life would end up like this. She was on her way to being drunk and it wasn’t even past eight am yet. She looked at the bottle of muggle aspirin lying in front of her, sprawled on the tile by the upturned kitchen table. She crawled over to it and popped a few pills, chasing them down with another swig of the fiery red liquid, and lay back against the table very aware of the ‘do not take with liquor’ warning
She heard of a few friends doing it when she was younger, and she wanted to feel numb, she wanted to feel free, she didn’t want to think about her messed up life or her dumb ass husband and his dumb slag of a mistress. She didn’t want to think about everything she had giving up to be with him. She just wanted to feel loved and cared about.
Her head felt full of lead, and her body began to relax. Her vision blurred around the edges, and the room grew steadily quiet. Everything became darker; she leaned her head back against the table, and drew steady ragged breaths.
She just wanted to feel peace and tranquility, but now she felt the edge of death rapidly approaching; a death full of serenity. She started to feel that maybe this kind of serenity was better.
Laughing bitterly to herself, who would’ve thought that the brightest witch of her generation would resort to such drastic measures over a man? She vaguely remembered the old saying, no man is worth your tears, and the one who is won’t make you cry. Pfft. Who ever came up with that nonsense had clearly never been in love. Several other quotes of love floated through her brain in her near comatose state, but none seemed to fit, so she made her own. Love’s a bitch. Now she knew that she wasn’t the first person to ever think that, but it was true.
She saw a dark green flash of light lightning up the kitchen walls. She closed her eyes wishing them away.
This felt so good, she didn’t hurt anymore, and she wanted Ron to cry now, she wanted him to know what he did to her, she wanted him to blame himself.
She saw a shadowy figure running towards her in slow motion. She laughed, it was too late, they came too late. She could faintly hear the screams of whoever had her cradled in their lap, but everything was distorted, as if they were miles away.
She felt so numb; she couldn’t hear anything they were saying, her body felt so warm, but so cold at the same time. She looked up into the obscure strangers face, and smiled, “you’re too late,” she whispered, the last thing she saw was frightened grey eyes before she saw black, and then she felt peace.
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XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXYours truly, AimeeBass
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Affliction
Chapter Two: Grey Eyes
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hermione woke up feeling so upset and confused. She was confused because early dawn, Ron tried to make love to her and upset because she let him.
She couldn’t believe how stupid she was. She had just found out her husband cheated on her and she willingly let him bed her! So here she was distressed because he got the best of her and distraught because she was lying to herself; he didn’t make love to her, he fucked her.
It started out with a few comforting kisses and she clung onto those kisses desperately. She wanted something, anything that would keep her from drowning. All she could do was feel; so she felt. Every time he touched her and every kiss that met her skin, made her feel dirty and cheap.
She felt desperate. Somewhere in the crevices of her subconscious told her this was wrong, sick even. She didn’t care, she’d laid there mindlessly gazing at the streak of sweat seeping from his bright red tousled hair, trailing a path down his blotchy forehead, over his bright red brow and falling on her cheek. Her hand reached up to brush away his sweat from her face and she was shocked to find her face drenched with tears.
She desperately tried to get him to look at her, kiss her, just notice her presence as his wife. He wouldn’t even do that for her, he kept his eyes closed and buried his face in the crook of her neck. She gave up and turned her head towards the window to watch the dark, dreary morning greet her.
She felt his slow deep thrust quicken and knew it would be over soon. She continued gazing out of the window across from their bed. She wondered if it was normal to consider sex with your husband a chore. She’d never felt that way before, she had always felt that they had their differences that needed to be worked out but for some reason knowing that he’d been having a sex life with another women made her wonder if it was just her, not him.
It soon ended up with him climaxing, her not, him hoping in the shower, and a departing with a kiss goodbye for his early morning training, her rolling over and crying for a relationship that was not healthy, but one she still couldn’t part from.
Even though she felt so used and betrayed, she couldn’t leave him. Maybe it was all those years they spent in this relationship, five years filled to the brim with happiness, unsure touches, exploring kisses then later passionate nights, but when she really thought about it, those so called happy memories withered away three years ago.
Those unsure touches became expected, those exploring kisses became demanding, and those passionate nights, became a release for Ron, and a way for her to save a drowning relationship.
Another tear fell, she angrily swiped it away, why is he doing this to me? Why am I letting him? Why can’t I leave him? She sighed; I can’t leave him, because as twisted as it is, I still love him.
She tried to brush the tears off her face, but the tears left her hand soaked with the salty liquid. She pulled her hair and screamed,
‘Why am I still crying over him,’ she sobbed. She needed a drink to calm her nerves, just one that would placate her, so she could go back to sleep. She opened and poured herself a glass of firewhiskey. She needed this, she didn’t want to feel right now, she craved to be numb.
‘Just a little numb,’ she pleaded as she drank. She liked it, it warmed her throat and burned her lungs as it slowly slid down, it started the butterflies in her stomach again… the butterflies she felt with Ron years ago, when they were younger, when they were in love.
She poured herself another glass.
The liquid was bitter and it burned all the way down but strangely it brought her a gitty feeling filled with butterflies and tingles; she had forgotten how a tingle felt. She sobbed.
She felt pathetic having to lower herself to drinking to feel any sort of happiness or love. She’d never thought that she would reach such a low point but this was her life now; a life filled with sorrow, heart rendering misery and uncertainty.
She just wanted to be happy. She felt she at least deserved that! After everything she endured and everything she’d given up something out there didn’t want to see her happy. After giving up her childhood to fight a war, after losing her parents to that same war and after giving up everything for Ron’s happiness still wouldn’t buy her happiness for her.
Hermione was feeling every emotion she could feel at a time like this; misery, weak, confusion, humiliated and anger! Fuck fate or any other higher magical being out there, she couldn’t understand how Ron could do this to her!
She picked up the last nights forgotten daily prophet and screamed. On the front page was a picture of the red headed bastard grinning back at her the title above read:
Chudley Cannon’s new keeper a success! Can this dazzling keeper bring Cannon’s out of dry spell?
“I got him that damn job!” She screamed while throwing the mocking paper across the room.
“I was there when he was poor and didn’t have a galleon!” She yelled, “I was there when he didn’t get drafted for three years!” She pushed over the kitchen table, “Not that bitch, I held him at night when he cried over not getting a job!”
She threw the empty glass at the wall, “I supported him, I paid for everything he needed!” She cried.
Right now all she wanted to do was crawl inside herself and feel peace, she couldn’t even do that, his actions had destroyed her so completely that she couldn’t even find peace, and what was worst was that he was still happy and a even ‘dazzling success’. She slid down the wall and took a swig of firewhiskey straight from the bottle, looking at the destroyed kitchen, dazed.
She never thought her life would end up like this. She was on her way to being drunk and it wasn’t even past eight am yet. She looked at the bottle of muggle aspirin lying in front of her, sprawled on the tile by the upturned kitchen table. She crawled over to it and popped a few pills, chasing them down with another swig of the fiery red liquid, and lay back against the table very aware of the ‘do not take with liquor’ warning
She heard of a few friends doing it when she was younger, and she wanted to feel numb, she wanted to feel free, she didn’t want to think about her messed up life or her dumb ass husband and his dumb slag of a mistress. She didn’t want to think about everything she had giving up to be with him. She just wanted to feel loved and cared about.
Her head felt full of lead, and her body began to relax. Her vision blurred around the edges, and the room grew steadily quiet. Everything became darker; she leaned her head back against the table, and drew steady ragged breaths.
She just wanted to feel peace and tranquility, but now she felt the edge of death rapidly approaching; a death full of serenity. She started to feel that maybe this kind of serenity was better.
Laughing bitterly to herself, who would’ve thought that the brightest witch of her generation would resort to such drastic measures over a man? She vaguely remembered the old saying, no man is worth your tears, and the one who is won’t make you cry. Pfft. Who ever came up with that nonsense had clearly never been in love. Several other quotes of love floated through her brain in her near comatose state, but none seemed to fit, so she made her own. Love’s a bitch. Now she knew that she wasn’t the first person to ever think that, but it was true.
She saw a dark green flash of light lightning up the kitchen walls. She closed her eyes wishing them away.
This felt so good, she didn’t hurt anymore, and she wanted Ron to cry now, she wanted him to know what he did to her, she wanted him to blame himself.
She saw a shadowy figure running towards her in slow motion. She laughed, it was too late, they came too late. She could faintly hear the screams of whoever had her cradled in their lap, but everything was distorted, as if they were miles away.
She felt so numb; she couldn’t hear anything they were saying, her body felt so warm, but so cold at the same time. She looked up into the obscure strangers face, and smiled, “you’re too late,” she whispered, the last thing she saw was frightened grey eyes before she saw black, and then she felt peace.
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XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXYours truly, AimeeBass