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...
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Dylan Blossom's experience at Hogwarts had been a flamethrower to the young girl's confidence. Hundreds of young witches and wizards had attended the school at the age of eleven, paired with their wand and newly found friendships with their peers. She remembered smiling at her train companion, the two girls having enjoyed each others company on their first ever train ride to the magical school.
Her name had been Joy Merry.
Her name was quite ironic since a friendship that had begun so joyful and merry had become so suddenly tragic and joyless at the sorting ceremony.
To Joy Merry, it had just been a simple train ride, but to Dylan Blossom, it was so much more. That young girl, brown hair and wide eyed, had been the first and last person to show Dylan kindness.
But then Joy was placed in Gryffindor, turning around to send Dylan a thumbs up and a wink as she walked towards her brand new family. Dylan had felt a similar excitement when the hat had sorted her into Slytherin, turning to give her own thumbs up to Joy. Joy had avoided eye contact, turning to her housemates and ignoring Dylan's hopeful eyes.
Like most good things, that feeling of happiness had left her before she could even memorise what it felt like.
"You a Mudblood?" An older boy sitting opposite her accused, blue eyes predatory on her short figure, "Well, are you?"
"What's that?" Dylan had meekly questioned, heart dropping and tears gathering in her eyes at the mean laughter that exploded from the older kids around her. Their reaction had given her an answer without a single word being uttered. Being a Mudblood wasn't a good thing whilst a member of the house of Slytherin and being a Slytherin wasn't a good thing to the three other houses.
Dylan Blossom had automatically become Hogwarts' most hated pupil just because of a singular, haggard magical hat.
How did that make any sense? A hat had decided that her entire education would be spent in isolation.
Any and all hope had vanished, leaving Dylan to be mercilessly bullied and picked on for her first few years at Hogwarts.
But after the war, and her fifth year being spent on the run from Snatchers, teenage Dylan Blossom, to put it simply, stopped giving a fuck about anyone else apart from herself.
To this day, at the wise age of twenty six Dylan Blossom still didn't give a fuck about anyone but herself.
There was a bright red piece of paper taped messily to her front door.
Dylan braced herself, crouching slightly to both steady her rising panic but more importantly to stop herself from strangling her landlord to death. She had been in muggle prison before, and it isn't an experience she wants to repeat any time soon.
He was evicting her! Is murder still punishable if they deserve it? Dylan didn't think so.
"Listen-" Her landlord, Derek? (she thought that's what his name was), "I was meant to be long gone before you saw that."
