Author’s note: You should probably know by now that I don’t own the characters
or settings contained within this fanfic. JKR is a much cooler person
than I. Don’t sue. Please. Enjoy reading! Once again, Thanks to Nomad
for his continuity bible . If nothing else, it makes sure I spell names
right. And a huge thank you to my beta-reader from SugarQuill.net, Moey.
You are wonderful. Oh, yeah. Reviews are nice.
They’ve warned me all my life about people like you. “Mudbloods”. A term
I’ve used since I was little. Could’ve been my first word for all I know.
All those years it never bothered me. I thought I was better than anything
that could come out of a Muggle house, and for the longest time, nobody
challenged me. Well, nobody who mattered that is. Dad used to talk about
the Muggle-sympathetic wizards like they were some sort of convicts; like
they were people who needed to be locked up in Azkaban while the remaining
purebloods lived happily without their constant nagging. I always agreed.
But you, you snuck up on me. You waited till you had me hooked before
you let the secret out. Somehow, the entire school was in the dark until
that day. And for me, there was no turning back. I wish I could hate you
for it. You turned my life upside down. Somehow, I could no longer hate
the Muggles, because you were one of them. A Muggle.
How you were sorted into Slytherin is one of the great mysteries of Hogwarts’
history. My dad used to say that Salazar Slytherin would have never allowed
a mudblood in his house, but somehow you got in. Nobody gave it a second
thought because no one knew who you were. No one knew you were a Muggle.
You fit right in with the rest of us. The Slytherins, that is. You even
held your own against me. No matter what I called you, you came back at
me twice as fast. Sometimes you would start in on me before I even had
a chance to realize you were in the room. I found that attractive. Far
more than say, Pansy Parkinson, who followed me around school, giggling
with her friends. She was annoying.
I asked you to the Yule Ball. You told me no. I asked you why and you
smiled. “Christmas, Bah humbug,” you said to me. I went with Pansy. I
envisioned your face on her head all night. It didn’t help.
Then one day I made Hermione Granger’s teeth grow. Long. Made her look
like a beaver. I thought it was funny. Even you smirked from your corner;
I saw you. When we left class I called her a mudblood. I almost kicked
Weasley’s ass. They stormed off. You had been standing a few feet down
the hallway. I’d watched you. You know, to see if you saw my moment of
glory. To see if you thought I was cool. You were frowning. You walked
over. “You know, you really shouldn’t call her that.” I asked you why.
Were you feeling sorry for the bucktoothed Muggle? “It’s not nice,” you
told me. I rolled my eyes at you. Why should I care if it was nice or
not? Why the hell did you care? I asked you why. “Because I am one, Malfoy.”
You said slowly, letting it all sink into my brain. You? No. Couldn’t
be. But you were a Slytherin! No Muggles were ever sorted into Slytherin!
I could hear people muttering behind me. You smirked and walked off, leaving
me stunned. For the first time in my life, I was speechless.
It didn’t take long for the news to spread. A Muggle in Slytherin; Malfoy
in love with a Muggle. I heard everything. I even got a howler from my
Dad. “HOW COULD YOU?” it screamed. “WHAT IN MERLIN’S NAME WERE YOU THINKING?
A MUDBLOOD?” I locked myself in my room, unable to face the rest of the
school. I tried sleeping, but every time I closed my eyes I SAW YOUR FACE.
Smirking at me, cruelly, telling me it had all been a lie. “Really, Malfoy,
what did you expect?” Marcus Flint asked me. “She was a goody-two-shoes
anyway.” When he left, I slammed the door behind him. Hard. I still kept
thinking of you as if nothing had changed, and listening to people who
had once respected you talk like that was hard. It infuriated me. I hated
you. They looked at me like I was someone to be pitied. Nobody pities
me. Ever. I’m too good for that. I’m a Malfoy! I am a purebred Malfoy
and you don’t pity me!
No Muggles ever got sorted into Slytherin. I think you tricked me somehow
into liking you. Some sort of charm. You were always good at those. That’s
it. You tricked the hat into letting you into Slytherin, you tricked the
school into thinking you were a pureblood wizard, and then you tricked
me into loving you. Wait. What did I just say? Loving you? No. I didn’t
love you; it was just a schoolboy crush. Really. I’ve never loved a Muggle.
I tried talking to you in the hallways between classes. I tried to go
on like nothing had happened. I risked every ounce of my reputation to
see you. Why? Because I knew you hadn’t changed. Only you were a Muggle.
A mudblood. But you were still a Slytherin, and a damn good one at that.
Things got harder for you, but you were still on top of everything. No
one got to you. I respected that. I still respected you. To this day I
can’t figure out why I couldn’t just be like everybody else, why I had
to let you get to me. Sometimes I wish I had never met you, but then,
wouldn’t the same thing have happened? Wouldn’t I have figured out that
not all Muggles were bad?
I’m in love with your memory. I know that now. I see the black hair that
used to hang in your face, and your smile, and I wish things had been
different. What if you hadn’t been a Slytherin? Would I have loved you?
What if you weren’t a Muggle? Would that have changed anything? I wonder
what would have happened if I told you how I felt. Would you have smiled
at me? Would you have had a quick smart-ass remark for me? And the question
that hangs in my mind the most is if I loved you, would you have loved