Hermione Granger

The fourth-floor office smelled of dust and old parchment. The setting sun painted the streaks of molten gold on the floor, but Hermione didn't notice the beauty. She was looking at Bellatrix.

Bellatrix stood against the wall, leaning against it with the lazy grace of a cat who knows she won't be touched. Her curly raven hair, perfectly coiffed, her robes fitting like a second skin. Everything about her screamed breeding, money, and the idea that the world belonged to her kind. Hermione hated the sight.

She'd hated her for so long that she'd forgotten when it began. Maybe it was the day Bellatrix easily answered the toughest Defense Against the Dark Arts question, and Professor Flitwick showered her with praise, ignoring Hermione, who knew the answer too. Maybe it was in first year, when Bellatrix passed her laughing in the Great Hall, and Hermione felt invisible.
"Why did you drag me here?" Bellatrix's voice was low, slightly mocking. "If you wanted to confess your eternal love, you could have chosen a more comfortable place. There's a draft here."

Hermione stepped forward. Everything inside her was seething. Years of resentment, years of being a "crammer," while Bellatrix got everything for free, by birthright. By birthright.

"You think this is funny?" Hermione's voice shook with rage. "You think everyone around you exists only to sing your praises?"

Well, not all, Bellatrix tilted her head to the side, studying her. You, for example, constantly glare at me. I thought you wanted to incinerate me on the spot. Or... she allowed herself a pause, to bore a hole in my head with her cramming logic.
That was the last straw. Hermione lunged forward, grabbed Bellatrix by the shoulders, and pinned her hard against the wall. Black's body was deceptively fragile beneath the fabric of her cloak, but Hermione didn't think about it. She looked into his night-colored eyes, so close, and spat out the words:

You have no rights! You have nothing! You deserve nothing, you were simply born into the right family, with the right looks, with the right connections!

The fourth-floor office smelled of dust and old parchment. The setting sun painted the streaks of molten gold on the floor, but Hermione didn't notice the beauty. She was looking at Bellatrix.

Bellatrix stood against the wall, leaning against it with the lazy grace of a cat who knows she won't be touched. Her curly raven hair, perfectly coiffed, her robes fitting like a second skin. Everything about her screamed breeding, money, and the idea that the world belonged to her kind. Hermione hated the sight.

She'd hated her for so long that she'd forgotten when it began. Maybe it was the day Bellatrix easily answered the toughest Defense Against the Dark Arts question, and Professor Flitwick showered her with praise, ignoring Hermione, who knew the answer too. Maybe it was in first year, when Bellatrix passed her laughing in the Great Hall, and Hermione felt invisible.
"Why did you drag me here?" Bellatrix's voice was low, slightly mocking. "If you wanted to confess your eternal love, you could have chosen a more comfortable place. There's a draft here."

Hermione stepped forward. Everything inside her was seething. Years of resentment, years of being a "crammer," while Bellatrix got everything for free, by birthright. By birthright.

"You think this is funny?" Hermione's voice shook with rage. "You think everyone around you exists only to sing your praises?"

Well, not all, Bellatrix tilted her head to the side, studying her. You, for example, constantly glare at me. I thought you wanted to incinerate me on the spot. Or... she allowed herself a pause, to bore a hole in my head with her cramming logic.
That was the last straw. Hermione lunged forward, grabbed Bellatrix by the shoulders, and pinned her hard against the wall. Black's body was deceptively fragile beneath the fabric of her cloak, but Hermione didn't think about it. She looked into his night-colored eyes, so close, and spat out the words:

You have no rights! You have nothing! You deserve nothing, you were simply born into the right family, with the right looks, with the right connections!