Hermione was sitting on her bed, thinking.

Thinking about hate.

Not that she could hate anyone, except for her teacher, Proffesor Snape, who claims he sold his soul to the devil himself. She was thinking about the hate people felt towards her. How no one ever paid any attention to her. The way people made fun of her because she was muggleborn. The way he hated her. The way she hated herself.
She looked down at her arm. She looked at three cut marks that were encrested in her left arm. How she admired them. They were the only thing she liked about herself. They reminded her how unsignificant life was. They reminded her of how no one would care if she died. They reminded her of how the only thing she could ever count on was the fact that he would always, always, despise her. She hated herself for liking him, because she knew how much he hated her and how that would never change. She hated herself for liking him. She hated herself for always being defensive. She hated herself for having to keep this inside of her, but she knew if she let it out she would never forgive herself. She just hated herself for not hating him.

Hermione lifted her chin and pointed her eyes at the clock. Six thirty. She decided to take a shower and go down to breakfast.

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Half Hour

Later

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Hermione was walking down the stairs to the Great Hall. She wasn't hungry; she didn't normally eat breakfast anyway. She'd just study for her arithmancy quiz fourth period.

She was about to walk into the Great Hall when she heard a familiar, hostile voice.

"Oh my God! Did you like see the like, Mudblood, like, yesterday?" asked a random Slytherin.

"Oh my God, it's time for her to stop," said Pansy, with utter disgust in her voice.

With that, Hermione walked in, slouching and with her head down. Malfoy and Zabini were laughing about Hagrid being on probation, with their girlfriends hanging all over them, looking like complete sluts. Well, actually, Pansy looked like a slut. Parvati, being the traitor Gryffindor she was, was hanging on the arm of Blaize Zabini, the guy with the biggest head at Hogwarts, in every sense of the word. Of course, Parvati being a Gryffindor, and Zabini being a Slytherin, he wouldn't keep her for more than a week.
Hermione kept walking, ignoring the fact that Parvati, her housemate, her friend, was making fun of her just like a Slytherin. When she reached them though, she looked away to avoid their eyes, and Malfoy put out a foot to trip her. She fell to the floor and, it being made out of cement and rock, broke her wrist and gave her a bloody nose. She gathered her books, stood up, and looked at all of them in turn. Pansy was about as tall as her. Parvati used to be much taller than her but now you could tell that they were within 3 inches of each other's height. Malfoy and Zabini, however, were much taller than her, and they made a point of reminding her every time they saw her. As she stood up, she looked at Malfoy, and a drop of blood fell from her nose onto his shoe.
"What the fuck is your fucking problem, you fucking Mudblood bitch? HUH? I just got these and now you have to go and fuck them up by getting them all muddy? Now get the fuck down on the floor and wipe that shit off my shoe!"
Hermione stared at him unseeingly.

"I-I'm sorry. I-I'll p-pay for them," she stuttered.

"You'd fucking better, you bitch!" he yelled, spitting in her face.

"What was that for, Malfoy?" she asked softly, her voice shaking.

"Because you fucking disgust him, isn't it obvious?" interjected Pansy.

"Fuck you, Pansy." Her voice sounding a bit stronger. Pansy immediatly shot her a glare that made Hermione's face turn red in fear.

"You little bitch!" she said shoving her to the ground. Hermione gathered her books once again, and began walking away, spitting at Draco on her way.

She walked up to her bedroom and drew out the Exacto-knife from under her bed, and went into the Prefects bathroom.

"Hermione? Hermione, are you up here? You missed first period and I just came to tell you that profess—" but Ron didn't have a chance to finish his sentence, because he saw Hermione, lying on the floor, hardly breathing.

"Hello? Is someone—there?" she choked out.

"Hermione, I'm here Hermione, let me get you to Madam Pomfrey," said Ron, panic evident in his voice.

"No, just—just give this to Malf—… tell him this was for him—..."

And that's when her heart stopped beating.

Third Period

"You're late, Weasley!" shouted Professor Snape.

"I'm sorry sir, but-"

"NO EXCUSES! Detention tomorrow, my office, six thirty sharp. And no sitting next to Potter, sit over there, with Draco."

"But Hermione—"

"Is also not here, thank you for bringing that very obvious fact to my attention. Because of your insolence that will be detention for a month, I think—"

"SHE KILLED HERSELF!" yelled Ron.

The entire room went silent, seeing who would talk first.

"So…… I should care?" asked Professor Snape.

Ron made to head to his seat next to Malfoy instead of responding. Then he heard a laugh that seemed to echo around the room. It was Malfoy laughing.

"Why are you laughing? She just bloody well KILLED herself!" yelled Ron, enraged.

"Oh FUCK!" he managed to get out in between chuckles.

"Finally he gets it!" Ron said exasperatedly.

"No, I mean she never paid me back for my shoes," said Malfoy, still sniggering a bit.

"SHE JUST FUCKING KILLED HERSELF AND ALL YOU CAN THINK ABOUT IS YOUR FUCKING SHOES?" Ron shouted trying to hold back tears.

"Thats enough, Weasley, Go sit down." He began walking toward Malfoy.

"And must I add, her last words were, Give this to Malfoy," Ron said, handing Draco a note. "I knew you could hide pretty much any emotion, Draco. But, when a girl kills herself because of you, and you don't care, thats really low."
Draco began to unfold the note.
"I love you,
I'll never forgive myself." he read in his mind. All of a sudden he froze. He dropped the note and ran out of the room as fast as he can, toward the prefects room. I guess Malfoy's can show emotion, Draco atleast. It's a start.