A/N: Re-uploaded because I made some more mistakes. However minuscule they were they were annoying me again.
Mudblood. The word was tossed around amongst the purebloods like nothing. They never had to experience the word themselves, never had to feel the pain. They didn't care who it hurt or what it did to the confidence of a muggleborn. As long as they felt good about themselves, as long as they were happy. Others would've cowered away and hid from the stupid Slytherins. They would've accepted there mark as a good-for-nothing-mudblood.
But then there were others who stood strong, who squared their shoulders and walked the corridors of Hogwarts with a profound sense of pride. After all, they were mere muggles who had acquired the gift of magic rather than being born into it. Hermione Granger held that fact close to her heart and it had gotten her through her five years of Hogwarts. She learned to ignore the snide remarks of Draco and his gang, she had learned to find refuge in her books. She remembered the day she had gotten the letter almost vividly, as though it had just happened. It felt almost surreal. She read the letter over and over, always thinking it was a joke. That one of her enemies had decided to pull a prank on her. But the reality struck her when she found herself standing in Olivander's, in Diagon Alley, trying out wands. She remembers the feeling of warmth and power when she held her wand up. 10 ¾" vine wood, with a dragon heartstring core. A beautiful wand, Hermione always thought. She smiled when she left the shop and held her wand up with a grin, reaching ear to ear. Shopping for everything else was just as amazing, just as glorifying. She found herself up at late hours, studying the text books, determined to be the best. There was always that doubt that she would never be accepted, never make friends, which is why she had studied so hard. Then she wouldn't have a reason to talk to anyone, she would use it as exscuse when someone asked her why she had no friends.
Upon her arrival at Hogwarts she met two people, two people who would inexplicably lead her into a world of wonder, suspense, danger and adventure. Harry Potter, the celebrity. She had later learned that he was more than just that, he was a person. A person with fears and insecurities. Just like everyone else. He was no different. Then Ron Weasley, a pureblood, but one of the good ones. No matter how much he showed that he didn't like her, she knew that they were friends and that he cared for her just as much as she cared for him. These two had also gotten her through her first year. They were always up to no good, causing Hermione to follow in their footsteps. She never regretted one bit of it, she would always hold their adventures as dear memories. And at this moment, she needed it, she needed it to keep her going.
Draco's remarks had gotten so bad; so bad that it was far beyond the limit to help her. She would stay in the common room crying her eyes out, dismissing any questions that came her way. When she'd wake up, her eyes would be dry and puffy after hours of crying. Even Harry, who would stay up with her could never help her cope. He couldn't bring her out of her dark place. Ron, Ginny, Neville, even Fred and George tried to help her, but none had succeeded. She had told herself she would never give into the name-calling, she would stand strong and be happy. She had built up a brick wall to reject all the remarks, but soon she felt the mental brick wall crumbling slowly. Over the weeks she became more and more distant, only talking when she was called on rather than volunteering. She ate, but very little, just enough to get her by. At first, no one had noticed. But after the first two weeks she had become noticeably pale and her eyes drooped with exhaustion. It was Harry that came to her first and asked her about it.
"Hermione?" Harry said coming up behind her, where she sat in the common room.
"Yes?" She asked, her eyes never leaving the fireplace. No fire came from it, not yet at least. She felt the couch sink in slightly as he sat himself next to her. His eyes stayed on her face, searching for an ounce of emotion.
"Are you… OK?" He asked. She looked up at him and tried to keep calm. Hot tears spilled from her face, trailing down her cheeks and over her neck. She felt herself crumbling, she was tearing apart at the seams. However, she didn't wipe away the tears, she let her emotions break free, like water from a broken dam. Without warning, she threw her arms around his neck and cried. His arms hesitantly wrapped around her and pulled her close. She was grateful that someone had tried to help her. She cried into his shoulder, telling him her feelings that were muffled by his night shirt.
"I can't take it anymore. I thought I was ok. But I'm not… I'm just… not." She cried. He rubbed her back soothingly and his voice came out with sincerity.
"Hermione, don't listen to them. You are the most brilliant witch out there. Smarter than any of those purebloods, way smarter. Don't ever think different. Never." He said into her hair. She broke away and he could see the tears leaving a trail of glistening moisture on her sad face. She gave the most heartbreaking smile Harry had ever seen.
"Thank you, Harry. I needed that." Then she got up and left Harry by himself, a smile forming on his lips.
It had worked for a while, but soon enough, she broke down again. But this time, five times worse. She wouldn't eat or sleep. She wouldn't talk to anyone she even skipped classes. She'd missed out on Defense Against the Dark Arts and Potions, not that she minded much. She stayed holed up in her room, only leaving to shower and use the restroom. She had gotten progressively skinnier until you could see her bones threatening to break through her pale skin. That's when everyone got even more concerned, everyone started to see the brilliant Hermione Granger break down and wither away. She had kept herself strong for as long as she could but she reached the point beyond return.
So, here she was now, standing in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom with a bottle of a reddish liquid in her hands. She had stolen it out of the potions room. It was a deadly potion that guaranteed death to its drinker. She looked in the mirror, and felt ashamed that she had let herself sink this low. She uncapped the vile and inhaled deeply. She lifted the bottle to her lips and tipped the bottom up. The warm liquid filled her mouth and she dropped to the floor with a cry. Pain coursed through her body and she awaited the gift of death to grace her. She stayed writhing on the floor for what seemed like an eternity, before her body slowly went numb. The cold crept across her body slowly and she smiled as her vision faded away, as her senses dwindled.
There, Hermione Granger lay, a broken girl who had met her end. No matter how bad she looked, that smile that resided on her tired face gave away her intentions to those who saw her.
Following the days of Hermione's death, Harry stood in the common room reading over a simple piece of parchment paper, mentally beating himself for not being able to save her. Ron stood by him, his arm on Harry's shoulders letting his tears trail freely down his cheeks. He looked absolutely devastated that he couldn't help her either. All of Gryffindor grieved her death, wishing that they could've gotten to her sooner. Even the Slytherin's looked guilty, knowing that they were the ones that ultimately contributed to her suicide.
I'm sorry. So, so sorry that I couldn't be strong enough.
-Hermione.
A/N: Review! :D Oh, and sorry I killed off Hermione, but all my frustrated thoughts came out through this. And I wanted to put some semblance of cliche muggle stuff into a book that is most certainly not about a cliche setting.