Everything seemed to be coming down. All the pressure to succeed, the need to be the best. That was all that was ever expected of her. It didn't help that there was always the endless taunts from him that made life impossible to live.

That was part of the reason she always had to be the best. To show him that everyone could succeed, blood had nothing to do with how well you do.

She couldn't take it anymore. It was so hard to keep everything in. There had to be a way to relieve the stress. She couldn't think clearly, things were too foggy to make out. Rational thoughts seemed to be absent. There wasn't a way to find them. The only though that kept running through her mind was one single thing: Escape.

Running out of the castle and beyond Hagrid's hut, she reached a clearing and sat down on one of the rocks. There, she let her tears fall. Let them fall freely. Try and let all the bottled up emotions come bubbling out. Letting them all run free.

There was a cough behind her. She didn't need this. Not now, not when she needed to get all the emotions out of herself.

There was another cough. Couldn't the person take the hint and leave her alone? Get on with their own life and let her try and fix hers? Was it that hard just walk away? To act as if nothing happened?

One more cough. What was its problem? Did this person have to make her life even harder than it already was?

Wiping her tears away with her sleeve and spinning around, she was met with the person she least wanted to see. It was Him.

His expression changed. Changed from what was a wondering and loneliness to one of hatred and arrogance. But not before she managed to see, for that one split second that inside, he was, just as lonely and stressed as she was, and that maybe, he too was looking for a place to escape.

"Mudblood"

His first word to her. Always was. It was such a common word for him. To him, it was just like saying "hi" to someone. But even though it was common, it still hurt. The more the word was said, the more it hurt. It was like am open wound. Each stab at it hurt more than the last.

"What are you doing here?"

She wanted to plead, tell him to stop the heartless taunts, but she couldn't bring herself to. She wasn't going to degrade herself for someone like him. He wasn't worth it.

"You're just a filthy mudblood"

"You are worthless, a disgrace to the wizarding world"

He knew what she was going through, yet the taunts continued. She was quiet. There wasn't any point in trying to stop him. The taunts would just keep coming. Wait for him to run out of things to say. Just wait. Timing was everything now.

"What exactly do you prove with your taunts?"

"That you are a mudblood"

"And how is that different to a pureblood?"

"Because I, unlike you have one of the longest lines of wizarding blood in me."

"And that's what makes you pure?"

"Of course. Pureblooded wizards are better than the likes of you. They have a line of magical blood."

"But blood is all the same. If a "pureblood" is so much more "superior" then shouldn't all "pureblood" folks have magic in their blood? If your theory is true, then why are there squibs? Your theory doesn't add up. It doesn't work that way. You say that your line is the longest line of "purebloods" then way back in time, your ancestor must have been a so-called mudblood. Lines don't count for anything. At one point in time, their ancestors were still muggles. There is nothing superior about your blood."

"Yes there is. We are different."

"In what way? Blood doesn't make anyone more or less superior than another."

"No. You are wrong. Pure is pure, dirty is dirty. You are either pure or dirty.

"Don't you see that you're wrong? That blood doesn't prove anything."

"Your philosophy is incorrect."

"Is it?"

"Yes"

"Look, blood is blood. It's the same."

"Blood is not the same. Blood is who you are. Your identity. Who you are better than, who is worse than you. If you are so sure of yourself, prove it."

Nothing moved, nor could anything be heard. Time seemed to pause around them until she reached into her robe, and pulled out a small jeweled sword enclosed in a case. Swiftly, she grabbed his hand and sliced his wrist. A line appeared and blood ran slowly out. Pulling her own wrist out, she repeated the action.

His blood dripped onto the ground. Hers joined his, not too long after.

He watched, fascinated.

"You see? We are the same. Our emotions, our feelings, they are all the same. It's just that we happen to be heirs of different families."

She wasn't used to this kind of physical pain. Her eyes were clouding over. She felt dizzy.

"Hermione?"

And things went black.

It was two days before she woke up.

He was at the door.

They made eye contact.

Nothing was said.

Nothing needed to be said.

They both understood,

That in many ways, they were the same.

A/N: That was probably the longest fanfiction I've ever written. Hope you enjoyed it and please review ) I need to improve my writing skills.