Harry Potter: The Price of Silence.

She saw his jaw tighten slightly as his younger self step towards Hermione. His young blue eyes looked her up and down, and his lip twitched into that spiteful curl before he said the words that had defined and wounded her younger self so painfully, like the red-hot brand of cattle, and that she'd been clawing her way to escape ever since. "No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood."

Hermione was aware that her younger self gasped. She knew that her thirteen-year-old self was quivering all over, and that her eyes were swimming as she fought to keep her tears in, but she didn't watch it.

Instead, she studied the Malfoy beside her. His expression was blank and unreadable, eyes just as dead as they ever had been, but she noticed that he ran his tongue across the inside of his cheek, the only flaw in his poker face.

Ron sharply withdrew his wand and stood protectively in front of Hermione. "You'll pay for that one Malfoy!"

At the time, Hermione had been glad that he had. She'd been grateful for the cover so she could discreetly wipe away a few traitorous tears. Not now though. She wanted Malfoy to see the way his words had affected her that day. Wanted him to see how something as small as one word could cause as much pain as a physical blow, like a stab to the heart.

After all, wasn't that one word what this whole war had been about?

They watched Ron's curse backfire, and the hoard of spiteful green cloaks that chuckled and sniggered as he began to vomit slugs.

"We need to get him to Hagrid's!" Harry shouted as he hauled a pale Ron to his feet. "He'll know what to do."

They followed the children drag Ron to the hut at the edge of the school grounds. Hermione knocked furiously on the wooden door while Harry rubbed soothing circles into his friends back. Before the door could swing open, the young Hermione turned on her heels and started walking back towards the castle.

"Where are you going?" Harry shouted as she quickly ascended the hill. "We need you-"

"I've forgotten something in the castle," she called over her shoulder. Her voice broke slightly on the last word. "Hagrid will know what to do."

Malfoy didn't say a word as they followed her double over the crest of the hill and into the castle, trailing her all the way to the girl's dormitories in Gryffindor tower.

Her younger self swung the doors open and marched inside; her face twisted into a very serious scowl as she searched the room. Once she was satisfied that she was alone, she released a ragged breath, slumped onto her four-poster bed, and cried.

Malfoy's brow furrowed when the younger Hermione dropped her face into her small hands and began to cry into them. She sobbed and sobbed until her face turned red, her cheeks were saturated with her tears, and the sound of her choked little cries filled the silent dormitory.

Hermione had expected Malfoy to make a comment, to laugh, to make fun of her or at least make one cruel remark. But to her surprise, he said nothing. Not a fucking word. He just watched, never tearing his eyes from her younger version as she bawled.

Malfoy's hands were balled into tight fists at his sides. Hermione noticed it, but she didn't comment.

After a long, long time, her younger version raised her head and drew a calming breath. Her face was red and glistening with her tears, and they both remained silent as she wiped her cheeks with her sleeves. She took another deep breath, pinching her eyes closed on the exhale, then opened them again and started to ruffle through her trunk.

Eventually, the younger Hermione found what she was looking for, and a little of the sadness seemed to ease from her features when she pulled a single paintbrush and canvas out. She sat cross-legged on the floor, and continued to draw steadying breaths as she gazed out the window and started to paint the skyline that stretched outside.

"Well, I didn't expect that," Malfoy finally said, that cruel smirk peeling its way back onto his sharp features. "Did your passion for art really stem from me? Did my comment get under your skin that much?"

Hermione ground her teeth together. "Don't flatter yourself."

14th January

"Look whose 'ere!"

"Ah, come to see the show?"

"You've got to be fucking joking," Malfoy muttered, dragging his heels as they made their way down the embankment. "Why did you think to file this memory away?"

"You! You foal, loathsome, evil little cockroach!"

"Do we have to watch this?" Malfoy asked. "Really?"

Hermione folded her arms and leaned against the stone behind her, settling in as her younger version pressed the tip of her wand into Malfoy's throat. She smirked when his bottom lip started to quiver, but she didn't answer the Death Eater stood next to her.

"You are a vile little bitch," the older Malfoy mumbled angrily.

"And you're an insufferable, prejudice wanker," she replied as her eyes slid over to watch him. "Have I told you that I hate you today?"

"Not since breakfast."

"Oh, that means I'm behind schedule. I am sorry for slacking," Hermione said. "Just to stop any confusion, I think you're the worst human who ever lived."