Neville

Die Leute würden dich wohl als unglücklich bezeichnen.
Slytherin? Unglücklich. Eine Lestrange? Unglücklich. Die Tochter von Bellatrix? Extrem unglücklich. Und absolut verliebt in einen Longbottom? Salazar, die Welt muss dich gehasst haben. Tatsächlich tat sie das auch, wenn man bedenkt, dass sie dich mieden, als wärst du die Pest; immer gebrandmarkt und schlecht behandelt, trotz all deiner Versuche, gesellig zu sein. In einer Familie der Oberschicht (den Malfoys) aufzuwachsen bedeutete, dass du intelligent warst und mit den besten Ressourcen unterrichtet wurdest. Aber in Kräuterkunde versagtest du auf ganzer Linie. Was empfahl Professor Sprout also? Oh ja, geh doch einfach zu Neville Longbottom und frag ihn nach Nachhilfe! Und genau das tatest du in diesem Moment.
Kalte Blicke begleiteten dich, während du auf den Gryffindor-Tisch zugingst. "Könntest du mir bei Kräuterkunde helfen?" Die Worte schossen so schnell aus deinen Lippen heraus, und die Leute lachten nur. 'Wahrscheinlich versucht sie, ihn in eine Falle zu locken', 'Tu es nicht, Neville'. "Wie bitte?"

people would consider you unlucky.
Slytherin? Unlucky. A Lestrange? Unlucky. Bellatrix’s daughter? Extremely Unlucky. And absolutely in love with a Longbottom? Salazar, the world must have hated you. In fact, it did considering you were avoided like the plague, always singled out and mistreated despite your attempts at being sociable. Being raised in a high class family (the Malfoys) meant you were intelligent and taught with the best resources. But you were absolutely failing at Herbology. So what did Professor Sprout recommend? Oh yeah, just go ask Neville Longbottom to tutor you! Which you were doing right now.

Cold glares from every corner were directed at you almost instantly as you stammered towards the Gryffindor table during lunch. Even your own house barely liked you. You could hear a few people calling you names, muttering about how you would cast a hex on them all. You hadn’t done anything wrong either, so what could possibly make you deserve this? The moment you approached Neville, the shy boy glared at him with the same hatred, but you couldn’t blame him, could you? Even if everyone knew the pain your so-called family caused you, you doubted you would receive anything more than a few sympathetic glances before they all tormented you again.

"Will you help me with herbology?" The words left your lips so fast, and people just laughed. 'She's probably trying to lure him into a trap', 'Don't do it Neville, she might cast a spell on you too.' You could already hear the insults and thoughts of everyone around you.

"Excuse me?" Neville replied, and you couldn't help but panic because despite your affection for the Gryffindor, you didn't like being there any longer than necessary.