Disclaimer: "Beautiful" is an amazing song by Bethany Dillon. And Harry Potter (and its characters) very obviously doesn't belong to me ;) That's all J.K. Rowling's.
A/N: Doesn't follow any sort of chronological order. Is also not your typical songfic and is broken into parts [chapters
I was so unique
Now I feel skin deep
I count on the make-up to cover it all
I started at Hogwarts thinking that everyone else would know more than me, that I would be one of the only non-witches…er, Muggles there. So I read as much as I could and retained as much information as I could.
I came here to find that almost no one in my year knew the information. I thought that it wouldn't matter, that maybe I could tutor them; maybe I would enjoy teaching others. I also thought maybe it would get them to like me. My parents always told me to be myself and to not let others use me, but if it turned out to be a friendship, who am I to turn it away?
But they didn't like me. I overheard the older girls within the first week saying how ugly I was, how if they had my hair they would do something about it and not make it look like a rat's nest. I know my hair's not perfect, but it's so difficult to tame; even magic doesn't keep it perfect for more than a few hours. I tried it once, and Lavender Brown just laughed, saying that it didn't suit me.
Not having them like me for my looks was something I could deal with; in my last year of Muggle school, a lot of girls were behaving like that. But not liking me because I'm smart was a completely new thing for me. I'm so used to people trying to take advantage of it, that I couldn't believe that my classmates' resentment of my knowledge would lead them to hate me.
Why should I even bother trying to fix my looks if they're still going to hate me for being smart?
They hate my help too. Maybe I am a bit arrogant when I try, but I can't help that my bitterness at their immaturity comes through when they won't accept my help. Fine, I'll let them fail; it's no skin off my back.
I asked Lavender and Parvati Patil one night if it was true that people hated me for always knowing the answer. Maybe I was being paranoid, but I swear they had hesitated and looked at each other before telling me that no, people didn't hate me.
I knew it was a lie, and today, Ronald Weasley confirmed it as we were leaving Charms class.
It's a wonder no one can stand her, she's a nightmare, honestly.
I ran as quickly as I could to the bathroom, trying not to cry but failing horribly. No one can stand me? The girls in my year don't seem to be all that bad. They came in here to see if I was all right and tried to calm me down. At least they're friendly to me, unlike other…bloody prats that I know.
My parents would kill me if they knew I was thinking those words, but I don't even care. I don't think the boys realize how much their words hurt me, how the pain has cut deep and I've started to become numb to the things I hear all of them mutter. Two months of that is bound to break someone.
I huddle on the floor crying over everything I've heard since I started here. If it continues up to Christmas, I think I'm going to ask Professor McGonagall if it's all right if I drop out. I don't want to, I love the classes here, I love learning how to be a witch. But I can't be stuck with immature arses for the next 6 ½ years, especially if they're going to continue to say those hurtful things.
Damn it, I've missed most of the Halloween feast. I'm sure no one cares though. I'm hungry, but I can miss the dinner- I'm sure everyone will be better off without me there. And if someone asks me tomorrow about my tears tonight? I'll just put on a smile and act like everything is perfect.
It's what they expect me to do, anyway.
A/N: Ron's line in italics was taken from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's (Philosopher's) Stone
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