Hermione Black (Completed)

Chapter 7

Warning: Domestic Abuse is mentioned in this chapter.

Draco Pov

Since Hermione's falling out with her minions and the confrontation with the Weaselette in Hogsmeade, she has been hanging out with Luna, Blaize and I, a lot more. To my surprise, most of the time it's just me and her, normally studying but on odd occasions, such as now, she tells me about muggle fiction books.

Currently, she's sitting on the sofa, next to me and telling me about a book about an oddly named teenaged vampire hunter.

"I'm surprised, Hermione," I say. "I didn't think you would read about harming other creatures for fun. Hunting vampires is an illegal practice you know?"

"Well, technically in the books, they call it slaying" Hermione starts off. "And in Buffy's world, vampires are a lot more dangerous than in ours, Draco. However, I do rather disapprove of that aspect of the book. I think that's why I enjoy the series so much because I'm so conflicted." I chuckle and then Hermione continues to tell me about different books she's read.

I don't know why I feel the need to ask this but suddenly the words fly out of my mouth. "Hermione... why do you like reading so much?"

She pauses then says hesitantly "Because books are amazing, each one written by a different mind..." she continues to explain why books are so great but I can tell she's hiding something. I put my hand on her knee "Please Hermione," I say quietly. "There's nobody else here, you can tell me."

She gives me a small smile then weakly says "It's an escape from reality, you know with Voldemort and all that."

"But you've loved reading before you knew about the Dark Lord Hermione, even I know that." I look her straight in her eyes "Please tell me what reality you were escaping before."

Tears escape her haunted eyes, "My parents abused me," she whispers. My eyes widen with horror but I don't say anything so she continues. "They wanted me to become dentists like them or better yet doctors," she explains. "They wanted me to be the best. I wasn't allowed to make friends, I had to study all the time. I had to get the best grades. Nothing less than A+ or Outstanding in Wizarding terms. If I didn't... if I slipped up even once they'd beat me black and blue. They got away with it because my magic healed me quickly. It got worse when they found out that I was a witch. I couldn't live up to their expectations any more so they hated me. But I still loved them because they were my parents." She starts sobbing into my shoulder, I use my left hand to grip onto the sofa to stop myself from screaming out in anger. How dare they?! She isn't even their real daughter. Even without growing up in a pureblood household, she was still raised like one.

Hermione moves slightly and wipes away her tears, "I don't anymore though."

"Pardon?!" I yelp.

"I found out this summer when I reversed the obliviate spell that I was adopted."

I pretend to be surprised even though I partially am because I didn't know she knew. "You're adopted?!" I exclaim.

She nods and smiles slightly, "I might not even be a muggleborn."

I chuckle still feigning shock "For all we know, you could be a pureblood."

"I wouldn't go that far," she scoffs. "My parents' abusive ways is kind of engrained into you know, it's why I was so jealous of Harry when he started getting better marks than me in potions."

I laugh, "I know how that feels."

She pauses, "You're father didn't hurt you for being in second place did he?"

"Of course he did," I say. "I would start doubting that he was a pureblood if he didn't."

"Not all purebloods are like that," Hermione points out. "The Weasleys weren't abusive, just whacks here and there."

"Then I would doubt that he is a Malfoy," I rephrase. I examine my tearful sister as she continues to force a smile. "Have you ever told anyone what you just told me?"

She shakes her head, "Never. And Harry, Ron and Ginny will never know."

"But why?"

"They have their own issues with the way they were raised. Harry was abused for merely existing, he spent 11 years of his life living in a cupboard under a staircase. I will not bother them with such petty issues such as my life story."

"Then why did you tell me?" I ask in a small voice.

"I don't know," she whispers. "For some reason, I felt safe and secure just by telling you."

"I'm glad you did," I say.

"So am I."