"He was always talking about that 'mouthy mudblood bitch, Granger', talking about that 'frigid, ugly prude sticking her nose in everywhere', and how perhaps 'she just needs a good fuck to put her in her place', but how he would never be the one to do it, because it would 'sully my pure blood to go near her, the filthy, buck-toothed, know-it-all'. Goyle and Crabbe used to snigger about how they should try to catch you in a corridor alone one day and take you off to an empty classroom and play with you, to teach you your place –" Pansy smirked glazedly at Hermione, the meaning of play perfectly, horribly clear, and Hermione's stomach flipped sickeningly, tears springing to her eyes as Pansy continued.