SMUGGLEBORN/
There will always be someone willing to break you, ridicule you, gossip about you, belittle your achievements, and judge your very soul.
And that person is Dylan Blossom.
or,
In which George Weasley hires an unfeeling, walking contradi...
"I stood on a Lego as a child. It was deeply traumatic."
"What's a Lego?"
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Dylan Blossom tale of woe wasn't anything special or unique, her mother had vanished without a trace over ten years ago and her father had a constant carousel of women at his beck and call, giving the young girl a grotesque sex ed lesson at a much too early age. The therapist she regularly saw had come to the conclusion that her early experiences had forever impacted the way her pre-frontal cortex had developed, turning her into the questionable and morally grey individual she was as an adult.
However, as Dylan Blossom regularly does, she disagreed, her own superior opinion winning the competition of importance more than the medically trained professional.
Dylan blamed her magic; her fucking dammed magic was the cause of everything bad in her life. Her mother left the day her Hogwarts letter arrived. Her father started neglecting her the second she got on that train to Hogwarts. The occupants of Hogwarts hated her the second she was placed in Slytherin. The Slytherins mercilessly bullied her the moment they discovered her status as a "mudblood". The teachers of Hogwarts despised her for her atrocious grades and smuggling in of banned muggle items.
And the worst aspect of all of this is the fact that the now, twenty-six-year-old Dylan Blossom is absolutely and without a doubt fucking terrible at magic.
