Pomona heard someone crying. Following the sound, she found a girl from her own House weeping alone in the corridor.
She was just about to approach when a Gryffindor girl came over and handed her a drink.
"Don't cry," the Gryffindor girl comforted her. "You knew what kind of scumbag Malfoy is."
"But I never thought he'd tell everyone." The Hufflepuff girl wiped away her tears sadly. "I've become everyone's laughingstock. I was so stupid."
"I really don't know what you saw in him, apart from his looks." The Gryffindor girl said, "Now you know, don't you? What's inside a person matters too."
The Hufflepuff girl took the drink, sobbing as she drank to replenish the moisture she had lost from crying.
"What are you doing?"
Pomona turned around and saw the head of Slytherin House—the godfather of the "scumbag" the girls had been talking about.
"Is it because of her?" Snape glanced at the two girls in the corridor.
"He shouldn't have told everyone about that!" Pomona said angrily, holding back the urge to punch him.
Snape did not make excuses like "Draco is still a child," but he could not find any other excuse to defend his hateful godson either.
"I'll teach him a lesson," Snape said.
Snape did not understand—or rather, he was incapable of making that little brat truly change.
Draco Malfoy would only admit his mistakes to someone's face. The moment he turned around, he would act as if nothing had happened and go right back to his old ways.
"That won't change anything," she said coldly, then turned and left that corner of the school grounds.
Almost everyone longed to be loved, whether children or adults.
Those who were loved seemed to possess a kind of privilege. Parents who loved their children would