Mudblood
Cold, that was the first feeling she had noticed. She was cold. She'd lost count of the days she'd been trapped in the dungeon. She couldn't even really keep track by when she was given food, they didn't bother to feed her. For days at a time, she'd get maybe a meal. She was used to it, being on the run for the better part of a year, made her accustomed to the hunger. At least she was given water, and a bucket to relieve herself that a Death Eater picked up daily to empty. The thought actually sickened her, but probably not as much as the son of a bitch who had to empty it.
Sometimes Draco would come to visit, if she could even use that term. He mainly just stared at her like she was an enigma, a puzzle he was trying to solve. She thought in the back of her mind, he felt pity for her. He was as scared as she was, she knew by looking at him. He could mask it all he wanted, but there was nothing that could hide the look in his eyes. He'd wanted this, to become a Death Eater, but now? Now he probably wanted to run and hide.
She shifted her body on the mattress beneath her, at least she'd gotten a mattress. Most likely Narcissa had insisted upon it, the woman may dislike the fact that her status was less than preferable, but Hermione knew that Narcissa wasn't unnecessarily cruel. Cold, there was that feeling again. Hermione couldn't feel much aside from the cold. The pain had faded days ago, even though she could no longer walk. She suspected the Cruciatus Curse had damaged some of her motor funtion. The medulla oblongata, was such an important part of the brain. Only she was the only person in the house at that time who knew that. Pure-bloods had no use for muggle science. Muggles were beneath them. Mudbloods were beneath them.
Aw, that word. Mudblood. She'd never be rid of it now. One day, when the Dark Lord was gone and, hopefully, the world was a little less prejudiced, she'd still be forever haunted by the fact that she was a mudblood.
The crazy bitch, Hermione refused to even think her name, had forever branded her with her blood status. There was power in a name, and she'd refuse to give that bitch power.
Mudblood, the word that would forever haunt her. Permanently etched into her skin, a reminder that she would never be good enough. She would never be able to get away from it, the Death Eaters had seen to that. Voldemort, he'd laughed, even congratulated the Crazy Bitch when they'd captured her. He was furious that Harry had managed to get away, but Hermione? Hermione was elated, she'd die for her best friend, without a second thought. She kept secretly hoping they'd come down and put her out of this misery.
She used to be so strong, but her will had been stripped away. She jumped when she heard the door to the dungeon slam. She sighed in relief, when she met the grey eyes of Draco Malfoy. He was holding a tray of food. It was a simple loaf of bread and some watery soup, but she was grateful for the slight substance, as the hunger was starting to get to her. Starving to death, wasn't a way she was willing to accept to die.
He looked at her with pity, the remorse etched onto his face. The pain, at knowing what fate lay in store for her laid upon every wrinkle on his forehead. He'd aged, the weight on his shoulders was indicated in the tension in every muscle of his body. The light in his eyes, no longer was shining. Then again, Hermione knew she no longer resembled the teenager he'd known in their school years. She was sure she looked every part her "station". Mudblood, was all she was and ever will be.
"I'm sorry." The words were soft-spoken, nearly a whisper. She nodded in response, the worry in her eyes noticeable as she looked at him. Ever the caring person, she worried about him, how all of this had been affecting him. She hoped the light that had once been in his eyes, even as he tormented and bullied her as a child, would every shine again. He looked at her, studiously, knowing that even when life was bleak for her, she still cared more about others.
Eventually, she had finished eating. Food no longer had taste, but she ate anyway. She didn't believe she'd ever be able to taste food again. Of course, she also knew her chances of getting out alive were slim-to-none. Mudbloods weren't going to survive when the Dark Lord took over the Wizarding World, or they'd be used as slaves. Shewould rather die than be forced to bow down and serve those who hated her very existence, and while she loved Harry with every part of her being, she had started to lose hope.
She missed Harry and Ron. Her best friends, the loves of her life, although the former would be the one she'd fallen for. Everyone always assumed Ron, but she pined for Harry in a way she knew would never be requited. He was in love with Ginny, and had been for a while. She laughed to herself, sardonically. She would've settled for Ron. It wouldn't have been the same kind of love, but they would've made it. They would've figured a way to be happy.
She'd resented herself for ever falling for the wrong boy. Falling for anyone, really. She wouldn't ever leave the Hell, she'd been stuck in. She sometimes resented ever knowing she was witch. Her parents would know who she was, her best friends wouldn't have to worry about her, because she never would've met them. She mentally smacked herself while mumbling, "This isn't you, Hermione."
Malfoy looked over at her, a confused expression on her face. She'd forgotten he was there, waiting for her to hand him the tray. She just shook her head, and he turned away. He didn't want to see her vulnerable either. He didn't want to see her at all, if he were really honest with himself, but he needed to make sure she ate. To make sure she stayed alive. To make sure that when she was rescued, he could be too.
She wasn't just a mudblood to him, not anymore. He no longer fed into the pureblood prejudice bullshit. The bullshit his father still pushed onto him, the bullshit his mother never would talk about again. To him, Hermione Granger was the woman he'd never be able to let himself fall for. His father had seen to that, his father was the reason she was here. The reason she'd hated him. Lucius Malfoy had berated him for even thinking about her. Narcissa, who knew about Draco's infatuation, had Severus teach him occlumency. To hide the thoughts from his father, and later from the Dark Lord.
He eventually left the dungeon leaving Hermione to herself. He couldn't be caught lingering, that path led to pain for the both of them. He never saw the bright flash of light as he was flown backward into a wall. He lost consciousness as Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and half the blasted Order came to rescue the woman he'd secretly pined after for years.
Mudblood.
Mudblood.
Mudblood.
That was all she'd ever be, and as Harry and Ron picked her up and apparated her out of the dungeon into the safety of Bill and Fleur Weasley's seaside cottage, the thought refused to leave. The last word to leave her lips before she faded into the darkness, "Mudblood."
Author's Notes: I was originally going to expand upon this, but I've completely lost my muse, so I've decided to leave this as a one-shot. I may bring a new story into this AU eventually, but for now this is 100% stand-alone.