How it started
~ 1826, The Malfoy Graveyard~
Her knees buckled, why had it always ended terribly for her! It had been a month yet her heart had been as empty as it was on that fateful evening. She and her loving husband had just gotten married, a fight that lasted 6 years. They were of different social classes, you see. It was terrible for him, a man from an old respected family, to marry a commoner governess like her.
They were finally married, for three long months. It hurt to think about that day. She rarely did.
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~1826, the month before, Malfoy Manor~
On that day, she was out and about, ready to donate to the poor with a Pences she had in her little silk purse. She clutched it, kissing her husband goodbye on their bed. He was sick with consumption. His pale skin, adopted a white hue, resembling the nasty vampires she was told to look out for. She placed a match onto the candle that burned as bright as her love for her dear Draco.
" My dear, do be careful, for my heart can't afford an accident regarding you. I surely will die!"
Hermione chuckled, though her heart grew heavy, because even though her husband was joking and smiling, his voice was frail and weak like her old nana's. She pat her pelisse and instructed the young caretaker to take care of Draco.
She walked through the long halls, her shoes clicking and echoing through the vast empty corridors. It was lonely, except the clicks and clacks of her shoes and the painting of her husband's forefathers. She took a pocket mirror from her purse and made sure she looked presentable. Her jewellery and makeup mimicked those of a high class lady though Draco's friends and admirers always mocked her for her low upbringing.
She smiled to herself, who was laughing now? She was a Malfoy and who were they? A nobody. All those years of torture and suffering but it was worth it. She married someone she adored and the feeling was reciprocated. She always had dreamed of being a princess when she was a child. Being a Malfoy, that was close to it in the Victorian social circles. The door was ajar, the door to the dining room, and two persons whispered inside, secrets evident with their panicked expression and position.
She was about to walk away, allowing privacy to the two persons, likely servants with their poor attire. However, this was her home so who were they to tell secrets she wasn't allowed to hear. She was their lady, after all. She crept up to the door, her hands holding the outskirts of the door.
" I've heard from Luce( Lucia, the caretaker) told me of the suffering of the young master. He is to be dead from tuberculosis in a maximum of 2 weeks ,you know? I see his lady with her pale skin and knowing eyes, she knew he would be dead when she married him. She must be a witch! She's not ugly, I suppose but there were way more beautiful, eligible fair girls for him. She is rather plain in comparison to those girls. When he dies, it is rumored he'll leave everything to his supposed love of his life."
" Beatrice! Are you telling of the truth? Remember the lord could hear us and would not enjoy his children being liars,"
"I agree, Eliza, but also remember we could be caught be the Lord and Lady not doing our duties as the faithful, rightful servant."
She barged into the dining room," You dare even disrespect me in my home?????!!!! You don't even look sympathetic, I do not care that you think I be ugly or plain but I do love thy husband and he is my heart and souls so you two are to be out of my home and you dare not show your faces to me. I will make sure every respectable family knows that you servants do not respect their masters."
When Hermione was done, tears of melancholy rolled down their sad, pathetic faces. She pointed her finger to the front entrance and demanded them to get out. A few minutes later, she heard an ear piercing scream that sounded a lot like her husband's
Fear drained her face of its remaining colour, leaving her skin as white as a ghost. She hastily raced up the corridor to see her husband laying there, on the feet of the steps, his body pale and devoid of life. He lay there unmoving and she screeched. The nurse raced to her side," Oh my, Oh no!!! Lord Malfoy said he was just to comfort you as he heard your screams. He said, he said he was going to slowly walk down the stairs. I did not anticipate that sir would fall down the stairs in his weak, half dead state. Oh my, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! It's all my fault!"
I had stopped listening at Lord Malfoy, my hear palpitated wildly, my cold black heart, empty. I fell to the floor, and held my husband in my arm. Sobs tore through her throat, as droplet of tears ran down her face.
And that was the day Hermione Malfoy nee Granger lost her soulmate.