Hermione's hands shook as she pulled the covers over her chest and reached for a book to read. The candle she always used was magically lit and the pillows were plump, yet she couldn't help but get an uneasy feeling as she breathed in the sweet jasmine smell to try to calm down her frazzled nerves.

Her hair was as uncooperating as ever, but she had somehow coaxed it out of its regular almost afro-like shape into a frizzy braid that she hoped would stay until the morning. She flipped open the cover and traced a finger across the title page, relishing the feeling of the coarse paper. If she was being honest, she really did not want to read whatsoever, let alone study. She simply wasn't in the mood. But by sheer will and determination, she powered through, pulling the curtains that surrounded her bed to a tight close.

A mint green and relatively thick, she was fairly sure no one could see the light, or her for that matter, but she still felt a bit uncomfortable. Maybe it was because this was her first time living in a dorm with complete strangers, or it had to do something with the strange glances everyone kept shooting at her at the dinner table.

Hermione had quickly finished the little food she could digest before playing with the end of her cloak, just waiting for them to be sent to their dorms. In fact, she was so unsettled that she didn't even take time to relinquish the magical moving staircases and the fact that the Slytherin dorms were located in the dungeons, which to her, seemed a bit unfair considering that the Gryffindors got a posh common room and the Ravenclaws got one that was intriguing in every bit way. And even the Hufflepuffs got cool underground burrow-like rooms.

Anyway, after the dinner, the prefects, a thin boy with shadowed eyes and a girl with the blankest stare Hermione had ever seen, had brought the Slytherin first years downstairs, giving little to no information of the surrounding areas.

Draco, Blaise and Theo were nice enough, being polite with her enough for her to feel at least a bit comfortable, but as the boys and girls parted to go to the separate dorms, she couldn't help but feel a cold shiver pass through her.

A part of her wanted to go up to Pansy, who had seemed nice enough earlier, but she was already off to the side, whispering with some other girls. As Hermione looked around, it struck her that she was the only one who didn't already know anyone. Was she the only Muggleborn?

It was weird alright, but Hermione remembered a paragraph from one of the books she had read that simply stated that one of the main personality traits of Slytherins were pride, and if that was the case, then Slytherin probably consisted of only purebloods, and maybe a few half-bloods. Definitely no Muggleborns.

So when they had each found their respective beds, Hermione had immediately changed into her nightgown, put her wand safely away and had taken out a book and candle, ready for something to put her mind to peace. Now as she sat on the bed however, blood pounding in her head, all she really wanted to do was draw or write, but she forced herself to keep reading the paragraphs she had already memorized, reading them over and over again until they were all but engraved in her mind.

By the time she finished, it was easily after midnight. Hermione blew out the candles softly and sank into the unfamiliar bed, clutching the covers. She missed her heavy blanket back at home. Her eyes fluttered shut, but just as she was about to fall into a dreamless sleep, some quiet whispers woke her up and her eyes shot open, her ears straining to hear more as her name echoed in the darkness.

'...overhead prefects... Muggleborn...' a faint voice whispered. Hermione's ears perked up, sure they were talking about her.

As the footsteps neared her bed, the voices became more clear.

"What's a mudblood doing in Slytherin?" One of the voices hissed. Judging by the easiness that the words were spoken, Hermione guessed that the speaker was at least a third year.

"It shouldn't be allowed." Another voice agreed. A fourth year?

"She doesn't belong here," a familiar voice snarled. Hermione's blood chilled and she felt her heart drop to her stomach. Pansy? "I can't believe I talked to her. I should've known something was up. Only a mudblood would be so awed by this place," Pansy drawled. "My beach house is better furnished and it's our old one."

Hermione clenched the edges of her blanket tightly as the footsteps faded away, her mind racing. Was this year going to be another repeat? Was this school going to be another series of torture and loneliness and harsh words? All the hope that she had felt when she arrived disappeared and she felt so out of place in the large castle. She didn't belong here, not in Hogwarts, and most of all not in Slytherin.

As she closed her eyes, wishing it to all go away, Hermione couldn't help but let a tear slip through.