With Stitches.

The summer has moved far too quickly for my conception and, on the morning of September 1st, I am awakened by two soft, but angered voices outside my doorway.

“You are the only one she can trust, Draco! Dawson isn’t ready to be on her own yet-”

“I’m not going to watch over a filthy little Mudblood! Imagine what the other Slytherins will think-”

“Do not call her that, Draco. You have no idea what you are talking about! You will watch over Dawson. Every minute of every hour of every revolting day at that sickening school, as My Lord requests. Do you understand?!” Without a word, the boy stomps off down the hallway and back into his room, slamming the door shut. After a sigh, the woman remaining in the hallway sends a knock through my room.

“Come in,” I call, stretching my arms up to the ceiling as I sit upright.

“Good morning,” Bellatrix speaks sharply, closing the door behind her.

“Good morning, Bella,” I reply, staring up at the dark woman. Her hair is tangled and ratted, almost two feet high and wide. She wears a black, tattered dress and leather, heeled boots. She walks up to me, eyeing me deeply.

“Did you sleep well?” she questions, spotting my unpacked luggage sitting on the hard wood floor. Bellatrix flicks her wand and my things are suddenly packed.

“Well enough… Why won’t Draco stop calling me a Mudblood?” Without an answer, she simply gives me a rotten grin and heads out the door.

I sigh, climbing off the bed and grabbing the outfit I had picked out the night before. The jean shorts compliment my hips and legs well, and the Aerosmith t-shirt I bought at a concert fits like a glove, showing off my curves. I slide my navy blue Converse onto my feet and slip my black cardigan over my arms before rushing to the bathroom. I fix the rat’s nest on top of my head to show actual decent curls, I brush my teeth thoroughly, and I succeed at doing my make-up before I finally look into the full length mirror.

I look very plain, and I imagine the rest of the witches and wizards boarding the Hogwart’s Express will be dressed properly in suits and dresses.

And I will look like this.

An American Mudblood.

I sigh again, but try to shrug it off, grabbing my suitcase before striding out of the room, running straight into Draco.

“Oh my god, I-I am so sorry,” I stammer, scrambling to pick up my ticket and wand. To my immediate shock, Draco bends down, extending a hand to help me back to my feet.

“Thank you…” I say sheepishly, keeping my eyes to the floor, placing my curls behind my ear.

“Let’s just go. It’s 10:30,” Draco announces just as quietly, shoving my suitcase into my arms as he finally let’s go of my hand, rushing down the stairs. I let out an angry breath, wishing to use one of the many hexes Severus taught me over the summer on his posh, blonde head. Instead I return my wand to my back pocket as I walk down the stairs, suitcase following behind. Bella, Narcissa, and Lucius wait patiently with Draco by the door. The two women smile pointedly up at me, while the two men, with the same hard, solemn expression as usual, stare blankly at me.

“Look at you,” Bellatrix speaks, standing on one hip with her arms crossed, but showing a grin. “Going off to school. I‘m proud of you,” During the longest summer of my life -though it may have been the same amount of time, but it felt like years instead of months- Bellatrix watched over me when Narcissa or Severus couldn’t. She tried to pamper me, tried to bring me the things I needed, and sometimes even sat up hugging my shaking frame when the nightmares got the best of me, which was almost nightly.

Though I’m sure Bellatrix tried as hard as she could, I could feel her reluctance toward me.

“Thanks, Bella,” I smile, surprisingly feeling tears brim in my eyes.

“I’m going to miss you two so much,” I exclaim, hesitantly giving Narcissa a hug. I only try a handshake with Lucius and, with hesitation, he obliges.

“Time to go!” Narcissa announces, placing a firm hand around my waist, leading us out to the car.

***

“You aren’t sitting with me, Mudblood,” Draco snaps my newest nickname when I try to follow him into a cabin.

“And where the hell else am I supposed to sit, Malfoy?” I exclaim, letting my arms cross across my chest. Draco just gives me a glare and steps through the sliding glass door, greeting his friends. I stomp my foot, turning around and striding back down the aisle, mumbling profanities as I search for an empty seat.

“I’m really sorry to bother you,” I say, looking at the three students. “but, my… brother wouldn’t let me sit with him… Could I possibly sit in here with you?”

“You must be Dawson Parker!” the girl exclaims, scooting over with a smile. I sit down with a curious grin, sliding my things under the seat.

“Yeah… how did you know?”

“Hermione knows everything!” the ginger-headed boy explains, rolling his eyes.

“Oh be quiet, Ronald!” Hermione says, turning back to me. “Everyone has been gossiping about the Muggle-born American Witch who’s just learned about her magic! I’m Hermione Granger." I shake her outstretched hand.

“Dawson Elizabeth Parker, at your service,” I look at the boys sitting across from us expectantly.

“Oh, right. I’m Ron, Ron Weasley. And… Well, you probably already know who this is, of course,”

I glance at the second boy. His green eyes are friendly but incredibly drowsy behind his small, round glasses. His hair sits in a mess on the top of his head and an oddly shaped scar is barely visible on his forehead. The lightning bolt gives him away easily, Voldemort has told stories of him many times before, but I did not give my realization away.

“Should I?” I laugh.

“Ron, she's just realized she’s a witch. How would she know a thing about Harry?” Again, Ron rolls his eyes at Hermione’s wits, and the Boy-Who-Lived snickers.

“I’m Harry Potter,” He introduces with a sly grin, shaking my hand slowly.

“…Potter… I believe my family has spoken about you,” With a curious expression, he finally releases my hand.

“They have, have they? Who’s your family, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Well, my real family lives in California, but I stay at the Malfoy place,” As I finish my short explanation, each of their mouths are gaping.

“…What?” I laugh again.

“You… You live with the Malfoys?” Ron practically shrieks.

“Yes?”

“They let you in?!” I tilt my head to the side.

“Yes… Why wouldn’t they?”

“Dawson… I can tell you from personal experiences that the Malfoys aren’t very fond of Muggle-Borns…” My eyes grow wide.

“Really? You’re a Mudblood, too? Is it very common?” Hermione’s expression becomes hurt.

“I’m-I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong?”

“Mudblood isn’t usually a word one hears in… civilized conversation,” Harry explains, placing a hand on Hermione’s knee.

“Is it really that terrible? I am so sorry, Hermione. That’s practically Draco’s nickname for me. I had no clue that was bad." Hermione smiles politely and nods in understanding before we embark on a long conversation about my life.

***

“You went fourteen years without knowing you were a witch? You’re parents never told you?” Ron implores, leaning on his knuckles in interest.

It’s dark now and we have changed into our robes.

“Never. Strange things always seemed to happen when I got angry or upset, and snakes… Well, they speak to me. One time, at the zoo, I set an anaconda on my little sister for throwing her pretzel at me in front of a hot guy. My parents never forgave me for that!” We spent the whole train ride talking about The Adventures of the American Witch and, after several boringly long stories (that seemed to actually be enjoyable to them), we reach our destination.

“You’re going to love Hogwarts, Dawson,” Hermione smiles, leaving me to board small passenger boats that guide me across the deep, dark lake.