It's always amusing to look back on your younger self. You roll your eyes or shake your head and wonder, "what in the world was I thinking." I feel that way sometimes when I look back at my Hogwarts years. I was stubborn, bossy, and a complete and utter know-it-all. Of course, I can't say I've completely changed, but I would like to think that those particular aspects of my personality have greatly lessened in intensity. But back then, I was a nightmare.

As someone who had been picked on by their peers throughout their entire life, my self-esteem had a habit of crumbling. I found that the only thing that could build it back up, that could boost my confidence, was knowledge. I reveled in knowledge, in reading and learning. It set me apart from the others and made me different, and for the first time in my life, I didn't mind being different. And I held on to that. I held on to it, and I nourished it, and I let it grow.

They called me the brightest witch of my age. Perhaps it was true, perhaps it wasn't. All I know is that this did wonders to my self-esteem. I began to feel confident and sure of myself, sure of my mind. Looking back, I realize I was feeling a little too sure sometimes. My head had inflated slightly to say the least. And I believe much of my bossiness and need to always be right can be attributed to this new found confidence. Mind you, I still had my fair share of insecurities, but they weren't nearly as large in comparison.

So, perhaps it was good thing.

I don't know.

I've grown up now, though. I've grown up and I've been forced into the realization that knowledge can only get you so far. I've lost some of that youthful confidence I once had. And it's times like these when I would give anything to have it back.

"So how do you think she found out?"

Hermione sighed, looking up from her Charms essay. "Ginny, I've already told you. I don't know," she replied with a hint of desperation in her voice. "Like I said to Harry and Ron, it couldn't have been anyone at the meeting."

"Well, why not? Honestly Hermione, I think you put way too much faith in—

"No, it couldn't have been anyone there because I put a jinx on the parchment we signed. If there was a traitor in that meeting, trust me, we would know."

Ginny seemed slightly taken aback by this new piece of information. "Oh," she stated simply. "What sort of jinx?"

"Just believe me when I say, it would be very evident who the sneak was." And Hermione looked as if she wouldn't say any more on that subject.

"You're worried I might get ideas, aren't you?"

"Of course I am."

Ginny sighed.

"Oh, by the way, Ronald has finally found out you've begun dating," Hermione said as she rifled through the pages of her Charms book.

Ginny groaned very audibly, causing Madam Pince to throw both girls a very unpleasant look.

"Oh it wasn't that bad," Hermione stated.

Ginny stared at her.

"Okay, yes, it was pretty bad."

"Please, do enlighten me," Ginny said, propping her chin up with her hand.

"Well, it was actually my fault I suppose," Hermione began. "I mentioned how it was thanks to you that Michael and his friends came to the meeting. And Ron asked what you had to do with Michael so I told him the two of you were dating."

"And…"

"And he just about had a heart attack, I think," stated Hermione.

"What's a heart attack?" Ginny asked in confusion.

"Never mind," Hermione replied. "He just turned all red and fuming and said something about how you're too young to date."

Ginny groaned again. "That git, as if it's any of his business!"

"Oh and then he said how he thought you still fancied Harry," Hermione added.

Ginny's head shot up. "Was Harry there? What did you say?"

Hermione looked at the girl in front of her curiously for a moment. "Yes, he was there, and I said you used to fancy Harry, but not anymore."

"Oh...did Harry say anything?" Ginny inquired, casually.

Hermione raised her eyebrow slightly. "Yes actually, he asked if that was why you talked around him now." Hermione could see the faintest of blushes appearing on Ginny's face. "But anyway, how's your boyfriend, Michael doing?" For reasons unknown to her at that moment, Hermione seemed to place extra emphasis on the word 'boyfriend'.

"Oh," Ginny said in mild surprise, "um…just peachy."

"Great, I'm glad to hear it."

"Yeah…listen I think I'm done here, I'm going to go head up to the common room," Ginny stated, gathering up her books and stuffing them into her bag. "I would suggest the same for you too, the OWLs are still months away, Hermione, you don't want your brain to fizzle and die out before then."

Hermione smiled. "I'll keep that in mind."

And with that Ginny left the library.

Hermione sighed. She felt weird for some reason, almost guilty. Grabbing all of her books and returning them carefully to her backpack, she got up to leave. Ginny was right, she needed a break.

There were two hours left until curfew and Hermione desperately needed some fresh air. Yes, even Hermione Granger could feel the suffocating confines of the library after many, many hours of studying.

She made her way out of the entrance hall and onto the grounds. It was dark out, but the moon was reflecting its bright light off the lake and illuminating the grounds around her. Putting her bag down, Hermione leaned up against a large tree near the lake. She hadn't been able to just sit and think in what seemed like forever.

She thought about a lot of things.

She thought about yesterday morning during History of Magic when Hedwig had appeared outside the window of the classroom with her wing injured. The letter she was carrying had been crumpled, as if forcefully intercepted by someone.

She thought about last night when she, Harry, and Ron had been talking to Sirius in the fire. And that hand. She saw that hand. Short, stubby fingers, grasping at thin air where Sirius' head had been just moments before.

She thought about the new educational decree, number twenty-four. Stating all teams, clubs, groups, etc. would be disbanded, requiring permission to regroup.

She thought about Harry being bombarded by Filch in the Owlery.

She thought about the scars embedded deep within the skin of the back of his hand.

She thought about the lies.

She thought about the interference.

It was her. It was all her. It was all them. It was Umbridge. It was Fudge. It was the Daily Prophet.

And she suddenly felt like screaming. She felt like screaming so loud. Because nothing made sense anymore. Because this wasn't logic. And her heart was beating fast, and her face was burning up, and she wanted to scream. She wanted so desperately for things to just make sense.

Because nothing made sense.

"ARGHHH," she cried out, pounding her fist to the ground. And she cried out again, this time louder.

She was breathing heavily now as she leaned back against the tree once again. Gazing upon the lake, she slowly began to calm down. She hadn't realized how much she'd been holding in this whole time. Writing to her mum had eased some of the turmoil occurring inside her, but there was still so much left.

Squinting at her watch in the dark, Hermione saw that an hour had passed since she first walked out onto the grounds. Reaching for her bag, she took one last look at the lake before heading back to the castle.

There was still an hour left until curfew, but the corridors were quite empty. Rounding a corner, however, she heard voices. It wasn't until she entered the corridor that she recognized who the voices belonged to and immediately wished she'd taken a different route.

"Well, well, well, look who it is," said the sneering voice of Draco Malfoy. "Long time no see, Mudblood."

Malfoy was surrounded by his usual group of idiots, Hermione noticed.

"Oooh, I was wondering where that stench was coming from!" screeched Pansy, earning guffaws from Crabbe and Goyle, who were in actuality the probable sources of any stench roaming through this corridor, Hermione thought to herself.

"Move, please," Hermione stated simply.

"Oh, I do love a mudblood with manners," said Malfoy.

"And I love a Slytherin with brains," replied Hermione coolly. "It's too bad those are so hard to come by."

Malfoy's lip curled up into such a sneer, Hermione had to wonder if it pained his face at all. "You better watch what you say, Mudblood, it could get you into trouble one of these days."

"I'm terrified," Hermione stated dryly.

Pansy, who seemed to have just realized Hermione had called her stupid, narrowed her eyes menacingly. "Yeah, you had better watch out, Granger, the ugly ones are usually the first to go."

Hermione looked at her.

It felt as if something had pierced through her heart, but she bit back a retort nonetheless. "Oh? You've got statistical evidence, have you?"

Before she could hear Pansy's confused reply, however, Hermione turned around and headed back the way she came to take the long detour to Gryffindor Tower.

She felt stupid. She felt shallow. She felt weak. And she hated it.

Before she had even realized it, Hermione had made her way to the portrait of the Fat Lady, given her the password, and climbed into the common room. She didn't want to see anybody right now. All she wanted was to head straight upstairs to her dormitory and into her four poster where she could close the curtains around herself and block out the rest of the world.

She immediately spotted Harry and Ron by the window but managed to avoid them as she made her way across the common room and up the stairs.

Hermione lay in her bed sometime after that. The encounter with the Slytherins and Pansy's words still fresh in her mind.

Why? Why did she have to react this way? It was Pansy for Merlin's sake! It was Pansy dim-witted Parkinson. But as Hermione closed her eyes, countless memories flashed inside her mind, some recent and others long forgotten.

"The ugly ones are usually the first to go."

The ugly ones…

Ugly…

"They called me ugly."

"Hey 'Mione why don't you try actually brushing your hair for once, then maybe you wouldn't look so ugly!"

"Stunningly pretty? Her? What was she judging against – a chipmunk?"

"They called me ugly."

They called me ugly.

Ugly…

A single tear rolled down Hermione's face. It had been so long since she felt this way. She was a child again and she wanted to run back into her mother's arms and she wanted to cry. She was ugly. And everything bad in the world is ugly.

A/N: Hello! So this is gonna be nice and short. Please, please leave me some feedback. I would really appreciate ANY constructive criticism. If you don't like something please let me know so I can make it better! Any review would be greatly appreciated. And I mean that wholeheartedly. Thank you, and have a fantastic day!