AN: written for the Houses Competition

House: Slytherin

Year:2

Category: standard

Prompt: [Time Period] Pre-Hogwarts (Golden Era)

Word Count:1237

Jean Granger often wondered what it was about her daughter that was...different. She tried very hard to not phrase the question as "what was wrong" with her daughter, but it was difficult to stay focused on that. Little Hermione Granger was by all definitions an angel, but it was undeniable that strange things happened around her.

When Hermione was around a year old, she was sitting on a high chair, waiting for her breakfast. She was usually quite patient but that day her mother had bought for her a colorful breakfast cereal and the baby girl was anxious to grab it, so she kept pointing at it with her little hands. Jane turned away for a second and when she looked back Hermione had the pink box in her hands. Jane felt a chill of fear and then told herself that she gave the baby the box, she just didn't remember it. Probably because she was too busy or tired after going back to work a few months ago while still having a young child. Yes, that was it: she gave the baby the box and didn't register the movement.

That sort of episode happened over and over again, but also she would notice that the colors on Hermione's clothes seemed to change some times, especially if the girl seemed unhappy with the choice. Many a time Jane could swear she had bought Hermione a yellow dress, but then when she was dressing her daughter realized the dress was actually pink. Maybe she was doing it unconsciously, seeing yellow dresses on the store rack and grabbing the pink one, because her daughter loved pink. Yes, that was it. She was making unconscious decisions because she loved her little girl. There is no way the dresses were actually changing colors. Right?

One time vacationing in Paris little Hermione was bored. She wanted to play with other children, but that had always been difficult, kids were somehow weirded out by her. But at least back at home in her preschool, the teachers would make the other kids play with her. They were in a lovely square with a beautiful fountain in the middle. Hermione saw a blonde girl around her age and a slightly younger boy playing around the fountain. The boy kept following the girl and speaking to her in English and she would answer him in French. Hermione approached the pair shyly, trying to decide if she felt confident enough to talk to the girl in French, or if maybe it would be better to try to say hello in English. After all, it seemed clear that the girl would understand either way. When she was close enough to speak she tried to reach with her hand to tap the blonde girl's shoulder, but at that moment one of the water springs from the fountain changed directions and shoot towards the girl, soaking the side of her dress. Hermione panicked. This was her fault, even though she didn't understand how.

"I'm sorry. I don't know why these things happen to me." Hermione said, tears pricking her eyes.

"Because You are a witch, of course," said the blonde girl, shaking her arm furiously and rolling her eyes impatiently.

"That's rude." countered Hermione, now about to start sobbing. At that moment the little boy with platinum blonde hair approached them and asked the French girl.

"Marguerite, Who is that?"

"She's a witch but she doesn't know."

Little Draco Malfoy opened his eyes like saucers, excitement written all over his face. He was a knowledgeable wizard and he could for sure show the little witch all the things she didn't know.

"Can we play with her?" he asked Marguerite, who was his older cousin and the de facto leader of the pair.

"No! She doesn't even know she's a witch! She's stupid!" Marguerite said, and walked towards her mother, leaving Draco behind. He decided to approach the curly haired girl.

"Marguerite says that you are a witch. I'm a wizard, I'm like you. I can teach you how to do magic."

Hermione looked at the boy, measuring him. She was still shaken by the rudeness of the girl and she didn't know if she should be angry about being called a witch. On the other hand, this boy said that he is like her and that he can do magic. She tried to decide if she should believe him.

"You are small. How old are you?" she asked as if doubting the boy's proclaimed wisdom.

"I am three and a half," he said, trying to stand straighter. The curly girl was a couple of inches taller than him, but he refused to back up.

"Well I'm four," she said indicating her age with her fingers. "I should know more than you," she said haughtily.

"But you didn't know that you are a witch. And I can show you my magic. Look!" He picked a wildflower that was growing on a crack on the cobbled street and held it in his open hand. The yellow dandelion turned red.

Hermione squealed excitedly and put her hand on top of his. The flower turned white. They were giggling enthusiastically when the boy's mother approached them, a nervous look on her face. The place was packed with muggles and the children were being too obvious.

"Draco, we must go. Your father is waiting for us," she said firmly, ignoring the little curly girl.

"Mother, please can we stay a bit longer? My friend didn't know she is a witch but she is, see?" he said, showing his mother the dandelion, "she can change the flower too". "Can I play with her, please?"

"Not today, Draco, another time," said Narcissa. She hated denying her precious boy anything but this was a serious breach. He was not only doing magic in front of muggles but apparently, he was also playing with a mudblood.

"Okay," he said, sadness written all over his face. He extended his hand and gave the flower to Hermione. "Here. Bye." Then he took the hand his mother offered and walked away.

Narcissa hoped he would forget about the little girl. The pain of having to cut her sister Andromeda from her life was something she didn't want to experience ever again, and she would not be able to bear losing her son. But this was the world they lived in. If Draco ever chose to tie himself to a mudblood Lucius would never forgive him. And she didn't know what she would do then.

A bit later the Grangers were sitting at an outdoor cafe and a waitress had brought paper and crayons for Hermione. She immediately started drawing, humming a happy song under her breath. After a few moments, her mother curiously asked.

"Who is that, dear?" Little Hermione had sketched a human figurine with big grey balls for eyes and yellow hair, and now was trying to make the hair lighter using a white crayon.

"It's the boy from the square. He said that he is a wizard. He said I'm like him. Isn't he the prettiest boy you have ever seen?" She asked her mother.

Jane Granger smiled sweetly. Most children rejected her daughter, she didn't really understand why just as she didn't understand why strange things kept happening around Hermione. If for once another child claimed to accept her, that was enough to make Jane immensely grateful.