His Gryffindor, Her Slytherin

Chapter 1- Hermione's POV

I flung my shoes at the window in my dormitory, and the leather thing rebounded and fell to the floor, causing a harsh bang.

I threw myself onto my bed and wept into my pillow. I scarcely moved at all. I couldn't breathe. I didn't care. I couldn't comprehend it. I had to let it all out. I didn't know fully what it meant, but I knew it was something bad.

Mudblood.

By the disgusted tone he had taken and the fierce expression which turned his usually breathtaking features into ones so indescribably scary to even glance at, I could tell it was terrible, and a great insult.

I still felt that stab In my chest and that wounded, sickly feeling engulfing my stomach.

I wiped my eyes and headed down to the library, still feeling tears spill from my brown eyes. I got several concerned glances thrown my way, and a few jeers from some fourth year Slytherins.

I walked into the library and asked Madame Pince where I could find out the meaning of the M word.

"The terrible one used to describe muggles? It is by the unforgivable section," she said, peering at me worriedly.

I browsed the shelf and eventually found the one I was looking for. It was in a book called Unforgiveable expletive.

The name is rather accurate, I thought to myself, and with a sigh, my tear filled eyes swam as they darted over the slightly stained, dusty pages. Clearly nobody had ever really needed to use the book much. Eventually, my quick eyes came to a halt and focused on the ugly word.

Mudblood.

Mudblood is a highly derogatory term for a Muggle-born wizard or witch; that is, individuals with no wizarding relatives. ... There are apparently other, less commonly used terms with a similar meaning, such as "creature of dirt" It is a really offending term, for people can't help being Muggle-born.

As I comprehended this in my intelligent mind, I burst into fresh floods of tears. I had never shown anything but kindness towards Draco Malfoy, and he had assumed he had the audacity to call me such a term! Just because of his pure blood status. I knew it wasn't right that just because you were born into a non magical family, you were seen as and treated as scum. Even then, I knew that all this concerning blood types was wrong. In the end, it shouldn't come down to blood types. It should all be whether what is happening is right, not just what is expected from the blood types.

I slammed the book and collided with the boy I didn't want to see at all.

I fell to the floor, but he barely moved an inch. He was strong.

"Granger, keep your filthy self off me," he spat, looking down at me in disgust.

"Just be quiet. I don't want to talk right now," I cried, slotting the book into its rightful place and rubbing my elbow, which I'd banged on the floor before walking away quickly, sobs making my shoulders shake and tears rolling down my cheeks.

I heard him call,

"Granger... come ba—"

He stopped himself mid sentence, but I kept going, all the way back to my dormitory again.

Lavender Brown was in there, and she looked at me as I cried.

"Hermione! What's happened?" She asked, rushing to my side instantly, comforting me and putting her arms around me.

"Lavender... he... called me a Mudblood..." I sobbed.

"Who?" She asked.

"Draco," I whispered, tears choking me slightly.

She knew about my crush. She knew how much it hurt me. She was a half blood, so her mother was a muggle, but her father was a handsome pure blood. Her mother was a lot like her, girly, into pink, but Lavender was really caring.

"I'm so sorry, I should tell him off for that!" She said indignantly.

"Because of him, I am afraid. To be myself, to be a muggle, I should be proud of it, but sometimes I don't think I'm cut out for it all," I wept.

"I'm definitely saying something," she said.

"Thanks Lavender," I sniffed gratefully.

And with that, she flounced out to find him.

I dried my eyes and decided to put on a cosy jumper and a little blue skirt with my slippers seeing as lessons had ended that day.

I had to stifle a laugh as I imagined Lavender's telling off and Draco's face.

Then I thought about what that face had done, what pain that voice had inflicted, but I tried not to let it bother me. Being twelve, I felt like the whole world was ending and that nobody knew true suffering besides me at that very moment.

"Because of you, I am afraid," I sung softly, and tried to fake being happy as I left to go find Harry and Ron.

Despite the earlier reassurances from them, I needed them, so I went to the Great Hall, guessing they would be there.

Even after my kindness...

Mudblood...

That was the first time he called me a Mudblood.

A/N: I'm so into this! I hope you liked it very much! I know I loved writing it! I'm into the POV thing right now and I enjoyed writing about poor Hermione's upset in the eyes of a twelve year old because as I am fifteen, I knew what it was like when anything upsetting happened. I thought that I suffered the most and with that, I tried to make her seem as innocent as vulnerable as I could. I tried to make it as believable as I could. Hope I did a great job! Love you all my BonBons! Love from PotterheadBonBon 💗💗 xoxo xoxo