Hiiiiiiiiiiiiii! Go easy please! This is my second fic first was a fail! Not even kidding. Anyway this is kinda weird but I will update very very often from now on I am working on a shake it up Cy fic and a RunTher. As for hp, I love Dramione but I did Ron for this One. REVIEW! Love u guys!

Some would think of me smart. Most think of me as but a mere know it all. Others would call me a disgusting mudblood. But why those are the people that we end up caring for, one cannot know. So we've come to a conclusion; fear.

Stronger than love, stronger than faith, stronger than hope, fear... The word ran through my head, over and over. Like a someone knocking on my door trying to wake me. And no matter how hard I tried to correct it, it would not stop.

I've come to notice, it is no longer a ringing in my head, nor just a word I've tried to understand. But now it's a voice. No, not just any voice. A special voice. A familiar voice. Then it hit me like a hard smack across the face.

Ron. The voice was Ron's. Was I dreaming? Hallucinating? I had to be. It's been over 7 years since I last saw Ron. Why? No. I don't care. I didn't hear. It was my voice. Yes. No matter how much I tried it haunted me. It stayed in my head, and something told me that would stay like that until I achieved what it expected of me. No. Hermione granger. Stop this instant! I scolded myself for allowing Ron to re enter my world. We ended for a reason.

He left I tell myself. He left, right after Harry saved us. He ran off to be with god knows who. He is gone. And gone he will stay. Oh no... There it is again. I fight. I fight with strength. With will. Useless. That's my strength. I lose. He enters. He is here. I am defeated. I am young girl on Christmas morning who finds her Christmas tree gone. Ron. The voice. The hullucination.

It's gone. It's mocked me. I am inferior to the pure blood voice I die from. Or atleast did since, well, it's gone. There is no doubt. I am completely and utterly done. I am a joke. I know it. All my strength and might is equivilant to the pinky of a pureblood. Wht? I take a step to the right so that I see my reflection. A mudblood. Unworthy mudblood. Here it comes again.

What? I need someone. Anyone. Someone to slap me. What have I been saying? I have been killing myself. My mind what is going through it. I slap myself and I feel pain almost equivilant to the depression I was in after Ron. "U" I tell myself "u r a smart goddamn beautiful, perfect mudblood. U r a teased little filth who has never been more perfect." With that I glance in the mirror knowing myself and feeling as if the massive slap has hit itself. For, I, hermione granger, am in simplist words, a mudblood. And a proud one too.