A/N: Hey guys, just another oneshot. I was inspired by the ideas of selective schools and how much pressure is on you to be the best of the best. Also inspired by my marks from my exam results I've been getting back. In a nutshell, not the best.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Enjoy!

The black ink, real as herself, lay on the paper, forming the one thing she had hoped to never see on any of her reports, ever. Especially not her O.W.L. one. Her father was going to kill her. She raised the parchment to the light above her head, hoping to see the real mark showing through, the one she needed, just a little A. An A. Just a pass. But no, the letter obstinately stayed a P. Poor. The one result marring her perfect row of O's. And in Transfiguration, too. Her best subject. She was Hermione, smartest witch of her year.

Her throat closed into a hard lump, and her vision melted in front of her as her eyes filled with tears. The tiny letter swirled in front of her, mocking her. Last time, her father had hit her for a mere E. But this time, she would have gladly traded. Her eyes drifted shut, as her mind carried her back to the last time.

"You're a disgrace to our name. It's not enough that you're a WITCH, but even at your new school, you have to fail your subjects!"

"Daddy, no, I didn't fail, E stands for Exceeds Expectations, it's a good-" His hand roughly slapped her cheek, and she was sent sprawling to the ground, her hand cupping her face. "Daddy, please."

"What's the highest mark then?"

"An O, it stands for Outst-"

"SO WHY DIDN'T YOU GET THAT THEN? Are you really as stupid as your report says you are? An E. An E. My daughter, the supposed genius of Hogwarts, with an E in her best subject."

"Daddy, you don't understand, an E is still very, very good."

"What did your friend Potter get?" She gazed up at him from the ground, her legs crooked in front of her in unnatural positions. Tears were spilling out of her eyes, creating shining tracks down her cheeks. He couldn't be serious. She had no idea what any of the other had gotten, they'd gotten their results through the mail.

"Daddy, I don't know what he-" A stabbing pain reverberated through her side, as his foot swung into the tender flesh between her ribs and her hips. She curled into a tiny ball, and coughed out a sorry. He snarled, then dragged her into her room by the arm like she was a mere rag doll.

"Stay there for the rest of the summer." And stay there she did.

She was snapped out of her memory by the slamming of a door. "Baby, I'm home!" Her heart suddenly speeding up to twice its usual pace at the sound of her father's voice, she panicked, scanned the kitchen table for somewhere to hide the paper, thought better of it, decided to just show him, chickened out, and eventually shoved it underneath her and sat on it just in time, as he entered the door, a huge smile on his face. "So, how'd you do?" The hope in his eyes was so deceptive. The enormous grin plastered over his face seemed amazingly genuine. But she knew better. She'd put up with his attacks for long enough.

"We um, haven't gotten it back yet." Disappointed, he went to the bench and began to fix himself a cup of coffee.

"But I thought you said it was coming today?" Her heart constricted. She had told him?

"Oh, well, I um…" He frowned at her, a tiny line creasing between his eyes. She rose from her chair to look him in the eye, but too late, he saw.

"What's that?" She gasped, and sat back down on the chair, a muffled thump not being enough to disguise the crunch of paper, the telltale sign that all was not well. Fury brimming, he lunged for her, his fingernails gouging into her arm, leaving tiny, perfect red crescent marks. "I said, what's that?" She shook her head frantically, muted. Hoisting her to her feet by her arm, he dragged her to the wall, and slammed her up against it. "I'm going to give you one more chance. What is that?" All she could do was let out a tiny sob, one solitary noise, releasing all the terror, hurt, and pain she was feeling.

He moved his hands from her shoulders, and let her slump to the ground, her back against the wall. She curled her knees up into her chest, and ducked her head, shaking uncontrollably.

"I'll get it myself then."

She didn't move.

All she could do was brace herself as the first blow struck her jaw, breaking a tooth and sending blood slipping out the corner of her mouth, and swear to herself she would do better next year.

She would have no choice.