InsaneJournal

Hermione stood outside Flourish and Blotts, blinking back tears as she stared at the broken window, and the graffiti on the sign. Mudblood. Would she never escape that word? Since the war was over, she thought that she might have heard the last of it. She wasn’t delusional enough to think that type of thinking had gone from the world forever, but people had pulled together so much these last few years.

She looked around the street; there were so many people walking around, some she recognised and some that she didn’t. How many of these people are thinking the same thing? She wondered what it was that kept people from saying it to her face. Malfoy never had any trouble saying it, not to mention a few dozen more people at school.

Why bother when you can say it with mindless vandalism? Shaking her head, she pushed the door open. It wasn’t even locked any more. What would be the point? It’s clear my spells and wards weren’t powerful enough to keep these people out, why bother locking it now?

Letting the door swing shut behind her, she stood in the middle of the room, looking around at the mess. It looked like someone had set off a bomb in the middle of her shop. Walking over to the nearest bookshelf, she let her fingers trail over the spines of some of the books, feeling the stain of the dried paint that had ruined half of her stock.

Sinking to the floor, she leaned her back against the front of her desk, pulling her knees up to her chest, holding her head in her hands and letting the tears fall.