Mudblood

"Mummy! Mummy! Look!"

"Oh, Rose!"

Lifting his gaze up from his painting of Quidditch players, Hugo watched his mummy jump up from her seat. The sleeve of her white sweater was stained a dark indigo.

Blue eyes anxious, Rose stood up on her chair and cried, "I'm sorry, Mummy! I just wanted to show you my picture!"

Giving his sister a somewhat strained, but understanding smile, Mummy said, "It's alright, Rosie."

"Mummy?" Hugo asked.

Brown eyes looked to him. "Yes, darling?"

"You're going to go clean your shirt now? Can I come? I'm done with my quid'itch players an' my hands got yellow all over them," he told her and then, to prove his point, he lifted his hands to show her.

Chuckling, Mummy reached out for him. Swinging Hugo onto her hip, she turned back to Rose. "Rosie, do you think you can hang up the pictures on the line and take the tablecloth off the table for me?" she asked.

Eager to make up for her mess, Rose bobbed her head. "Uh-huh! I can do that!" Hopping off her chair, Rose started on her task as their mummy took the two of them out of the dining room and to the kitchen.

Once in the kitchen, Mummy went to the sink where she set Hugo down on the counter beside it. Turning on the tap, she stripped off her sweater and put the indigo-stained sleeve beneath the running water. Absently kicking his feet, Hugo watched his sister for a moment as she put their pictures up on the makeshift drying rack. Then, he looked back to the sink. Thinking only of when he would get his turn to clean up, Hugo found himself squinting at his mother's arm as she scrubbed her hands clean of excess paint now that she'd rinsed the extra paint off her sweater sleeve.

Leaning closer, Hugo saw raised white lines on his mother's arm. Starting at it for a long moment, he realized he'd never seen them before. Maybe it was because his mum liked to wear long-sleeves most of the time; or perhaps it was because Hugo had never studied the inside of her arm before. Considering the lines, he realized they must be scars. Like the impervious-to-fixing ones Uncle Bill and Uncle Harry had. Tracing the shapes they made with his eyes, Hugo was surprised to find it looked very much like a word.

Reaching out in awe, he touched it.

Mummy jerked back like she'd been scalded and her very large brown eyes, met Hugo's blue.

"Mummy, what's it say?" he asked.

Rubbing at her arm, his mummy countered, "How do you know it says anything at all?"

"It looks like letters," Hugo replied. "'Specially the circles, they look like Os to me."

Her shoulders slumping, Mummy told Hugo, "It says Mudblood."

"What's Mudblood?" he inquired, unfamiliar with the word. It sounded silly, like the names of the Muggle bands his oldest cousin, Teddy, had recently begun to like thanks to some of his Muggleborn friends from Hogwarts.

Not meeting his gaze as she reached for Hugo to come closer and put his hands under the running water, his Mummy sighed. "It's a bad word, darling. One that will get you a one way trip to the corner like calling someone retarded.."

Watching his mummy scrub away the yellow paint from his fingers, Hugo pursed his lips. "Oh," he replied. "But, Mummy, what's it mean? I know 'tarted means you're dev'lopement'lly challenged."

Squeezing his hands under the lukewarm flow of the water, his mother reached over to kiss his forehead. "Okay, Hugo, I'll tell you. You know how Mummy and Daddy and Uncle Harry fought against Voldemort before you were born?"

"Yeah, that's why everyone always looks at us when we go places," agreed Hugo.

His mummy took another big breath, he watched her eyes turn very sad as she went about drying his hands with a dishrag. "Well, Hugo, during that time, the people who were on Voldemort's side called Muggleborns Mudbloods. That was because they thought our Muggle parents made us dirty and unfit for the magical world."

"Who carved it in your arm, Mummy? Why haven't you gotten rid of it? It's like Uncle Bill's scars, isn't it?" Hugo questioned at rapid fire, very distressed at the fact that somehow such a terrible word had been etched into his mummy's skin.

Pulling her sweater back on, Mummy said to Hugo, "A very, very awful witch carved it into my arm, when she attacked me during the war. And yes, it's sort of like Uncle Bill's scars, you can't get rid of it completely. It used to be a lot worse, though."

Reaching out for his mummy, Hugo made his blue eyes pleading. Understanding instantly what he wanted, Mummy swept him up into one of her big hugs.

"I'm sorry you can't get rid of that mean word, Mummy. It hurts enough when someone calls you something bad, it must be extra painful to hafta see it all the time," Hugo proclaimed unhappily.

Kissing him again and again, Mummy murmured into his hair, "Thank you, Hugo. You are such a sweet boy. I love you."

"Love you too, Mummy," Hugo mumbled into the soft mane of hair that was his mummy's. Squirming to be set down then, Hugo took a step back once his stocking covered feet touched the wood of the kitchen floor. Meeting the teary gaze of his mummy, he declared, "Someday, I'm going to figure out how to get rid of all scars - no matter how they got there."

His mummy's smile was small, but her words were warm and sincere, "I'm sure you will, Hugo."

I had to get this little idea out of my head, so, here we are.

Thank you very much for reading, please review!