Bats Chaser Two: (ugly duckling) (Prompts: 13. (quote) "Hate the sin, love the sinner." Mahatma Gandhi, 14. (word) hate, 8. (word) starstruck)

One Million Words Competition: 1,516 words

If You Dare Challenge: 432. A Wicked Grin

A/N: I haven't written Dramione in too long… so here it is. J

Stop

"Filthy mudblood."

It hit you hard, didn't it. It's not like it was the first time that you were called a mean name, or an insult. But it didn't mean that it hurt any less each time.

Teased for your buckteeth. Teased for your bushy hair. Teased for being different, for being weird. Teased for practically every flaw on you, and there was quite a lot.

And it hurt, but you chose to pretend that it didn't affect you. Because really, who are they to be the judge of you?

Your attitude seems to provoke them even more, but you won't give in to them. No, you won't. You refuse.

You won't give in to their foolish insults. You won't let them see you cry. You will be strong.

You tell yourself this over and over to convince yourself. But does it really help? No, not really. It doesn't stop you from crying by yourself in your room where no one can see you. Or in this case, crying in the bathroom with the Moaning Myrtle for company.

You hate that you're giving in, but what can you do? You can't control your emotions. You just want them to stop. Stop bothering you, stop insulting you. To just leave you alone.

Hate the sin, love the sinner. Your mother has told you this countless amount of times. To always be kind. That everyone has a reason for being mean to you.

But Malfoy's too cruel. How could there be something? He just seems like an evil brat who makes it seem like it's his one goal to hurt you.

But that all changes, when one day, you see him crying at the owlery.

At first you can't believe your eyes. Malfoy? Crying?

You creep behind him and try to peer at his letter, and luckily, he's too busy crying to notice you're behind him.

It's a letter from his father, scolding him for losing against the Mudblood in everything. All of a sudden, you find yourself pitying him.

You try to comfort him, but he glares at you through his tears and threatens to have you killed if you tell anyone you saw him crying. 'My father will hear about this!' he says, voice cracking.

You walk away then, but you know that something's changed. You see him in a different light whenever you see him, but he just glares at you.

He doesn't call you mudblood anymore, at least for a while, but you can tell he still dreads you.

You forget about all of it for awhile, because the Triwizard Tournament is here! And along with it, Victor Krum—a famous Quidditch player who has taken an interest in you!

Finally, someone, who might like you.

He asks you to the Yule Ball, and you agree. It's not like Harry or Ron would ask, they don't even consider you a girl, as much as it infuriates you.

'You've always been thought of the ugly smart girl who gives them the answers of homework to them,' a little voice in your head keeps on telling you. 'They don't consider you a friend; they consider you the answers for their homework.'

Malfoy makes it even worse, by asking why anyone would want to go with her, a mudblood? But you smile to yourself, imagining their reactions when you show up as Viktor's partner.

It still hurts, though. No one even considered that she had someone to go with.

When you enter the ballroom, it seems like they all go starstruck. Even Malfoy.

You smile proudly: you are beautiful, and you know it.

In Viktor's arms, with him smiling at you, you feel so happy. Even if he can't pronounce your name properly… at least he tries. Until… Ron goes and ruins it.

You feel all your anger boiling over and you start screaming at him, and then, you two are at it all over again.

You run away crying, and retreat towards the girl's washrooms when you run into someone.

You mumble a sorry and try dodging them to go to the girl's washroom but you run into them again, seeing as you can't see very well with those tear blotted eyes.

"Granger?" he asks, and as you wipe your tears away, you realize its Malfoy.

"Malfoy?" you say in reply, dumbfounded.

You try walking passed him, but he grabs your wrist.

"What's… wrong?" he asks. As if he even cares.

"Why do you care?" you snap, trying to pull your wrist out of his iron grip.

"Was it Weasley?" he asks, ignoring your jab.

You're silent.

"He's just an arsehole… he's a Weasley after all," he said.

"Better than a mudblood, though, isn't it?" you say bitterly, wrist hanging limply in his grip.

He doesn't say anything. "I-I'm sorry. But… you're different from the rest, I think."

"Oh, is my blood any cleaner than them, somehow? I doubt it, although I don't doubt the fact that my blood is probably just as clean as yours!" you exclaim, breaking free from his grip finally.

You start walking away, fresh tears starting in your eyes.

"I know!" he shouts, stopping you in your tracks.

"Then… why?" you ask, voice cracking.

Before you can stop it, you're crying. You crumple down, and you're crouching on the ground, tears overflowing. Suddenly, his arms are around you, and he's murmuring things, stroking your hair.

You should be shocked enough to stop crying, but instead, you cry even more, pressing into his arms.

You just needed someone to be there for you, to hug you.

To comfort you.

But there never was, and that's the problem, isn't it? It might be okay to hide your crying once in awhile, but sometimes, you need to let yourself be comforted.

After you stop, you break away from him and walk away.

You thank him though, later, when you're forced together to be partners for Potions. He explains that Snape was angry at him and this was his punishment.

"It's not much of a punishment, though," he says, looking away shyly.

You roll your eyes, but you can't help the blush that stirs on your cheeks.

That's not the end of your conversations together, though. You slip each other notes when passing each other's desks, when passing each other in the Great Hall, and in the library.

You meet secretly at the Room of Requirements when you need to talk. One night, meeting in the Room of Requirements to talk about the latest Transfiguration paper, he takes your hand.

You don't pull away, and instead look away, blushing.

Now, when you pass each other in the hallways, instead of passing each other notes, your fingers brush and give slight squeezes. You 'accidentally' bump into each other.

In fact, Malfoy, pretending he hates you, 'accidentally' pushes you, and you almost fall. He smiles mockingly, and you can barely keep yourself from smiling back at him. Harry and Ron begin to go at him, but you stop them.

Instead, you insult him about his ferret incident, ending it with a quick wink. Then, you twirl around, Harry and Ron at your heels.

You feel a little bit bad about lying to Harry and Ron, but if they knew, you know what kind of reaction they'd give.

He pecks you on the cheek one day, in goodbye, and you, before you can change your mind, peck him back, but on the lips, and quickly walk away, blushing.

But all of it ends one day, in Sixth Year.

You find out about it, when Harry tells you about what happened when Dumbledore died. It takes him quite a while, as he's in shock.

Malfoy had to kill Dumbledore. Malfoy's a Death Eater. Malfoy failed. Dumbledore's dead.

There's a part of you that knows that the reason he couldn't kill Dumbledore was because of you.

You realize you're in love with him, even after what he's done.

Hate the sin, love the sinner.

What your mother has always told you, has finally become true. You love him, but hate it. And there's nothing you can do about it.

Whenever you try to approach him, from then on, he brushes you off, insulting you about being a Mudblood, this time seriously.

So later, you stop trying. Ron and you are together, kind of.

In the Battle of Hogwarts, he rushes passed you, and you feel something in your hand.

You look at it. It's a note.

I love you.

I can't, but I do.

It's too dangerous.

Goodbye.

As much as it doesn't make sense, it does. A tear rolls down your cheek, and you burn the note.

He is gone.

You thank him, in your head. It's because of him that you changed.

It's because of him you know you're beautiful. Because without him, you'd never had thought you were ugly. And without him, you'd never have been reminded that you were beautiful.

You look at his retreating pose and give a wicked grin, because he has been a good friend. He turns back, and smiles at you.

A/N: Sorry about the ending, I don't even know.