Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

A/N: Thank you for being so patient with me during my unanticipated schedule. Thank you for reading. Sorry it's short. I'm trying to make my chapters longer, I really am but it's not easy for me. Thanks for reading anyway.


Feeling refreshed and wide awake I traveled down the stairs towards the dining area, a slight smirk on my face. Several paintings greeted me on my way past and I nodded politely to my elders. Now these, were some faces I could really respect, really look up to. They'd done it all before, been the best, though we'd taken it quite a bit further.

Several Death Eaters glared at me as I passed. Jealous. But they didn't say anything, wouldn't dare say anything.

Several House-elves scuttled past me, glancing at me as they did. Scared. But I wouldn't blame them. I was a force to be reckoned with, someone to fear.

I sat down at the dining room table, my smirk slightly wider. I had it good here. I had the best life. People were jealous of me, people feared me . . . .

People respected me.

A tray was dropped down onto the table in front of me, splattering food onto my front. I looked up, shocked at this person's . . . gall!

It was that girl . . . my Muggle. . . .

She glared at me . . . not with jealousy or fear . . . but with pure hatred. "Breakfast."

She turned, ready to storm away from me. I stood to me feet, grabbing onto her arm in a vice like grip. She winced slightly, but she didn't cry out like I thought she would.

"You will learn your place, Muggle, and obey the rules of this house," I said, in a low voice.

"Well, seeing as 'ow my place isn't in this so-called 'ouse, I don't think I'll be obeying your rules then," she said. For the first time since the other day, I actually heard her voice. Her dialect was . . . slang, in a way and I realized she was from a poor part of Muggle London. Which part, I didn't care, but that alone, besides the fact that she was a Muggle proved that she was filth.

I flung her away from me so hard she hit the ground. Quickly, she scuttled to her feet to face me, though my wand was already drawn. I thought she'd finally fear me, finally learn her place. . . . And yet . . . she laughed.

"I feel sorry for you."

"You feel sorry for me?" I scoffed. "Why's that?"

"I think I finally get you, seriously," she said, putting her hands on her hips. "You're one of them purebloods, eh? One of them, rich 'igh and mighty types, eh? Draco Malfoy, rich, 'igh and mighty, pureblood son of a bitch."

I stared at her in complete and total shock, too angry to even realize that I was angry. "Just who do you think –?"

"I am? I think I am a Muggle, Malfoy, and I'm damn proud of it. Did you know my brother is a Muggleborn? 'E actually knew you. Told me tons about ya and 'ow you mistreated people like 'im and 'ow you are just a complete and total psycho, soddin' bastard. But I bet ya 'e's better than ya in every single way possible."

"I will not allow you to talk to me in this manner!" I said, my wand hand shaking in anger. I don't think I've ever been this furious.

"I'll talk to you any way I damn well please!" she shouted back. Her light brown cheeks were tinted pink in obvious anger and frustration. "You want to know why? Because though you 'ave all your damn magical powers, you probably don't know 'ow ta do a damn thin'. Ya 'ave others cook for ya, clean for ya, dress you because you're too soddin' lazy to do it by yourself. It's us 'Muggles' who work 'ard for everythin' we've ever gotten and who bust our arses just to get by from day to day. So before you come at me, treatin' me like I'm nothin', you better sit back and think who's better than the other."

She began to walk away from me and I couldn't stop her. I couldn't even shot a spell at her I was that much in shock. She turned suddenly, seemingly calmer as she let her eyes roam over me. "In Muggle World, Malfoy, you're name means nothin'. You're nothin' to them or to me. And that's why you don't scare me. I 'ate ya because you think you're better than everyone else. Jus' 'cause you can wave a stick around and shoot lights. What would 'appen to ya if your wand got broken, then, eh? You wouldn't be any better than me or any other Muggle out there. . . . Think about that."

Flipping her hair over her shoulder, she walked out of the room, back towards the kitchen.

I sat back down in my chair, fuming, my face hot with frustration and rage. I wanted so bad just to take my wand and . . . and . . .

Taking a deep breath, I let myself sink back down further into my chair, looking towards where the Muggle had left. For some odd reason, the reason that kept me in my chair instead of racing after to possibly kill her, my anger subsided quickly and I was left feeling rather empty and confused. But a feeling overtook me soon. An emotion that i had never actually experienced before but I knew what it was.

I was ashamed.


A/N: Just for those who didn't get it by now, The 'Muggle' is from like, ghetto England. I'm not exactly sure how they say all their words but just know that she is very . . . i don't know . . . i'm not going to say undignified but she's a . . . a little rough around the edges (a lot). Thanks for reading