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Year One: Ties of Destiny
folder
Harry Potter › General
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
6
Views:
2,147
Reviews:
6
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › General
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
6
Views:
2,147
Reviews:
6
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter . I make no money from this story.
Chapter One
WARNING: This story is AU (Alternate Universe). It has child abuse/rape and Language. You have been warned. Read no further if the above bothers you.
Chapter one
Hermione Granger's house
A brown frizzy haired girl sits on her windowsill; watching the rain fall from the stormy grey clouds. Today is her birthday she is turning ten. Tears roll down her bruised face and onto her tattered dingy yellow dress. Even though today is her birthday, there will be no cake, no presents, or happy birthday hugs, kisses, and wishes. All she had received so far was yelling from her parents, and bruises from her father.
The girl's eyes turn towards her brown dented bedroom door, she can hear the breaking of glass, and her mother's yelling.
"Get out of my damn house, you bastard, and take your child with you!" yells the woman.
"That little bitch isn't my child; you're the one that gave birth to her, instead of just aborting it when I told you to!"
The girl covers her ears with her small hands and rocks back and forth, small whimpers escaping her mouth.
The front door slams closed and the girl watches, as her father gets into the car and drives away. Cupboards slam closed from down stairs, her mother is looking for her booze. One final cupboard slams shut, before the angry footsteps began to get closer to the girl's room. Her door slams open and her mother stands in the doorway, a cigarette lit in her mouth. The woman walks into the room and over to the door less closet, reaching up she pulls down a box and reaches inside pulling out a thermos, which the girl knows is filled with some type of alcohol. The woman then walks over to the girl's bed and sits down, looking at her as she opens the thermos and pours the contents into the lid. In one gulp, the lid is emptied, she then takes a drag from her cigarette, she looks at the small girl, disgust shows in her bloodshot eyes.
"It's all because of you; you did this to your father and me. You just had to be born and fuck everything up. Why do you live to make my life a pile of shit? I guess because that's all you have ever known is shit, because you are shit. You're worthless and stupid, and that's all you will ever be," says the woman, then she stands up and walks to the door, just before she closes it she says, "Happy birthday, you little shit."
Slowly, the girl gets off the windowsill, and walks over where mother had been sitting. She lies down next to the warm spot; she touches it, being as close as she would ever get to feeling her mother's warmth. Her eyes close and she slowly drifts off to sleep, the rain being her lullaby.
Hours later…
The girl wakes up in the dark, to the sound of her door creaking open. Light from the hall streams into her bedroom, she lies still, hoping that he would go away, praying to God that this was just another one of her nightmares. Her muscles tense as she feels her bed dip down. A rough callused hand turns her over and her eyes meet his emerald green ones, he smiles a yellow toothed smile, as he runs his hand up and down the inside of her thigh. She turns her head away from him and stares at the grey cracked wall. She hears the zipper of his pants and feels his disgusting touch, as he pushes up her dress and pulls down her underwear. She closes her eyes in pain, it felt like a hot knife stabbing her ripping her apart from the inside. She starts to count. 1….2….3….4….5…she could not reach twenty fast enough, it was always twenty that was when he would be finished with her…until tomorrow night….11…12…13…14…15…almost there… 18…19…20. He pulls her dress back down; he pulls up his pants and walks out the door.
Tears fall from her eyes, as she stares from her bed out the window, looking at the full moon. Slowly and carefully, she gets up, and walks out her door and into the bathroom closing the door behind her. She undresses and turns on the bath's faucet to hot, her face forms a look of pure disgust, as she looks at how dirty the bathtub is. It looks as if it hadn't been cleaned in several months, but there was nothing she could do about it. There were no cleaning supplies in the house that she knew of, and just hot water would not get off the months of scum and dirt build up all the way. Once the water was steaming hot, the girl dipped a toe in the water. She then let her bruised body sink into the water, the water's scalding heat making her skin tingle and turn a light pink, but it felt nice to her, because it made her feel, letting her know that what she was living, was a real live nightmare. One she could not escape. She wraps her arms around her knees, puts her chin on top of them, and lets the hot tears flow down her face.
Draco Malfoy's Manor
Age, 9
A pale blonde boy sits in an armchair, next to the fire, in his father's study. He is supposed to be reading the advance Dark Arts book in his hand, while his father works on papers. However, his mind cannot concentrate on the many small words. His mind is troubled; thinking about what would come that night, and how he could not stop it. His pale grey-blue eyes glance up at the clock—the muscles in his back tense subconsciously. It was almost time; he would have to go to her. Be her slave, her toy, once more…
A small old house-elf appears before him, clad in only a once white but now yellowed pillowcase. "Young Master, Mistress Dark wishes to see you."
The young boy turns to his father, as if to say 'save me', but his father does not look at him. His quill stands posed over the paper, the ink dripping from it, he bows his head in sorrow; this is the only gesture that he gives his son, to let him know that he had heard the elf, but can do nothing.
With his heart growing colder by the weeks, hatred the only thing scorching his cold soul, he turns to the elf and says, "Tell her I will be there soon." The elf bows and disappears.
The boy stands and against his own will, makes his legs move towards the door. He only pauses once to look back at his father in hatred, before closing the door gently behind him.
The man sitting at the desk, lays down his quill, and rests his head in his hands.
"I'm a monster."
Ron Weasley The Borrow
Age, 9
"You are a burden to your family," says a plump red haired woman as she cooks dinner. A young red headed boy bows his head in shame at his mother's words. You eat our food, you make us use money we do not have, to put clothes on your back. You are a burden to us."
"What about Ginny, she is younger than me." Immediately the boy covers his mouth, not meaning to speak his mind.
"What was that!" the woman yells, whirling around to face her youngest son.
"Nothing…" he mumbles, looking down at the ground.
"Ginny is my only daughter, the only girl to be born into this family in many generations. She is the princess of this family, how dare you speak as if she is less than you are! I was happy with the amount of boys I had before you came along. You are nothing but an irritating, itchy, scab on the name of this family! Go to your room! You just got your scraps taken away for two days." The woman, turns away from him, going back to her cooking, humming a tune as if nothing had happened.
The boy walks away, going up the stairs to his bed in the attic. Tears fall down his face; the only thoughts that are running through his head are his Mother's words "I was happy, before you came along."
Neville Longbottom
Age, 9
A boy that is slightly chubby and has dark brown hair sits in his room, just staring out the window. Inside he wishes he was a normal boy, but everywhere he goes people would say: "Is that Neville Longbottom? The-boy-who-lived?" He could not hide the mark that told people who he was, for it lay in the open on his round right cheek.
Voldemort and his wife Bellatrix—many called her Mistress Dark—had killed his parents. Even though he was only a babe, they were unable to kill him with the killing curse. No one knows why, not even his Gran, but in his heart he knew that it is because of his mother, he could just feel it in his heart.
People thought that just because he is famous that he has everything that he would ever want. This is not true, he did not have any true friends, all the friends that he had ever had, had used him for his fame. All he wanted was some true friends.
What he wanted most of all, however, was revenge. He wanted to be able to make Voldemort and his wife suffer for years, before he killed them. Someday, he would be able to do as his heart wished.
Chapter one
Hermione Granger's house
A brown frizzy haired girl sits on her windowsill; watching the rain fall from the stormy grey clouds. Today is her birthday she is turning ten. Tears roll down her bruised face and onto her tattered dingy yellow dress. Even though today is her birthday, there will be no cake, no presents, or happy birthday hugs, kisses, and wishes. All she had received so far was yelling from her parents, and bruises from her father.
The girl's eyes turn towards her brown dented bedroom door, she can hear the breaking of glass, and her mother's yelling.
"Get out of my damn house, you bastard, and take your child with you!" yells the woman.
"That little bitch isn't my child; you're the one that gave birth to her, instead of just aborting it when I told you to!"
The girl covers her ears with her small hands and rocks back and forth, small whimpers escaping her mouth.
The front door slams closed and the girl watches, as her father gets into the car and drives away. Cupboards slam closed from down stairs, her mother is looking for her booze. One final cupboard slams shut, before the angry footsteps began to get closer to the girl's room. Her door slams open and her mother stands in the doorway, a cigarette lit in her mouth. The woman walks into the room and over to the door less closet, reaching up she pulls down a box and reaches inside pulling out a thermos, which the girl knows is filled with some type of alcohol. The woman then walks over to the girl's bed and sits down, looking at her as she opens the thermos and pours the contents into the lid. In one gulp, the lid is emptied, she then takes a drag from her cigarette, she looks at the small girl, disgust shows in her bloodshot eyes.
"It's all because of you; you did this to your father and me. You just had to be born and fuck everything up. Why do you live to make my life a pile of shit? I guess because that's all you have ever known is shit, because you are shit. You're worthless and stupid, and that's all you will ever be," says the woman, then she stands up and walks to the door, just before she closes it she says, "Happy birthday, you little shit."
Slowly, the girl gets off the windowsill, and walks over where mother had been sitting. She lies down next to the warm spot; she touches it, being as close as she would ever get to feeling her mother's warmth. Her eyes close and she slowly drifts off to sleep, the rain being her lullaby.
Hours later…
The girl wakes up in the dark, to the sound of her door creaking open. Light from the hall streams into her bedroom, she lies still, hoping that he would go away, praying to God that this was just another one of her nightmares. Her muscles tense as she feels her bed dip down. A rough callused hand turns her over and her eyes meet his emerald green ones, he smiles a yellow toothed smile, as he runs his hand up and down the inside of her thigh. She turns her head away from him and stares at the grey cracked wall. She hears the zipper of his pants and feels his disgusting touch, as he pushes up her dress and pulls down her underwear. She closes her eyes in pain, it felt like a hot knife stabbing her ripping her apart from the inside. She starts to count. 1….2….3….4….5…she could not reach twenty fast enough, it was always twenty that was when he would be finished with her…until tomorrow night….11…12…13…14…15…almost there… 18…19…20. He pulls her dress back down; he pulls up his pants and walks out the door.
Tears fall from her eyes, as she stares from her bed out the window, looking at the full moon. Slowly and carefully, she gets up, and walks out her door and into the bathroom closing the door behind her. She undresses and turns on the bath's faucet to hot, her face forms a look of pure disgust, as she looks at how dirty the bathtub is. It looks as if it hadn't been cleaned in several months, but there was nothing she could do about it. There were no cleaning supplies in the house that she knew of, and just hot water would not get off the months of scum and dirt build up all the way. Once the water was steaming hot, the girl dipped a toe in the water. She then let her bruised body sink into the water, the water's scalding heat making her skin tingle and turn a light pink, but it felt nice to her, because it made her feel, letting her know that what she was living, was a real live nightmare. One she could not escape. She wraps her arms around her knees, puts her chin on top of them, and lets the hot tears flow down her face.
Draco Malfoy's Manor
Age, 9
A pale blonde boy sits in an armchair, next to the fire, in his father's study. He is supposed to be reading the advance Dark Arts book in his hand, while his father works on papers. However, his mind cannot concentrate on the many small words. His mind is troubled; thinking about what would come that night, and how he could not stop it. His pale grey-blue eyes glance up at the clock—the muscles in his back tense subconsciously. It was almost time; he would have to go to her. Be her slave, her toy, once more…
A small old house-elf appears before him, clad in only a once white but now yellowed pillowcase. "Young Master, Mistress Dark wishes to see you."
The young boy turns to his father, as if to say 'save me', but his father does not look at him. His quill stands posed over the paper, the ink dripping from it, he bows his head in sorrow; this is the only gesture that he gives his son, to let him know that he had heard the elf, but can do nothing.
With his heart growing colder by the weeks, hatred the only thing scorching his cold soul, he turns to the elf and says, "Tell her I will be there soon." The elf bows and disappears.
The boy stands and against his own will, makes his legs move towards the door. He only pauses once to look back at his father in hatred, before closing the door gently behind him.
The man sitting at the desk, lays down his quill, and rests his head in his hands.
"I'm a monster."
Ron Weasley The Borrow
Age, 9
"You are a burden to your family," says a plump red haired woman as she cooks dinner. A young red headed boy bows his head in shame at his mother's words. You eat our food, you make us use money we do not have, to put clothes on your back. You are a burden to us."
"What about Ginny, she is younger than me." Immediately the boy covers his mouth, not meaning to speak his mind.
"What was that!" the woman yells, whirling around to face her youngest son.
"Nothing…" he mumbles, looking down at the ground.
"Ginny is my only daughter, the only girl to be born into this family in many generations. She is the princess of this family, how dare you speak as if she is less than you are! I was happy with the amount of boys I had before you came along. You are nothing but an irritating, itchy, scab on the name of this family! Go to your room! You just got your scraps taken away for two days." The woman, turns away from him, going back to her cooking, humming a tune as if nothing had happened.
The boy walks away, going up the stairs to his bed in the attic. Tears fall down his face; the only thoughts that are running through his head are his Mother's words "I was happy, before you came along."
Neville Longbottom
Age, 9
A boy that is slightly chubby and has dark brown hair sits in his room, just staring out the window. Inside he wishes he was a normal boy, but everywhere he goes people would say: "Is that Neville Longbottom? The-boy-who-lived?" He could not hide the mark that told people who he was, for it lay in the open on his round right cheek.
Voldemort and his wife Bellatrix—many called her Mistress Dark—had killed his parents. Even though he was only a babe, they were unable to kill him with the killing curse. No one knows why, not even his Gran, but in his heart he knew that it is because of his mother, he could just feel it in his heart.
People thought that just because he is famous that he has everything that he would ever want. This is not true, he did not have any true friends, all the friends that he had ever had, had used him for his fame. All he wanted was some true friends.
What he wanted most of all, however, was revenge. He wanted to be able to make Voldemort and his wife suffer for years, before he killed them. Someday, he would be able to do as his heart wished.