Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling owns Harry Potter, and therefore everything in this fanfiction that you recognize.
CHAPTER ONE
"Are you ready?" Draco nodded seriously at his mother, staring at the brick that he knew would open the door to a world. Lucius drew his wand, and tickled it. As the brick began to wiggle, Draco closed his eyes and counted to ten. When he opened his eyes again, it was right there in front of him.
Diagon Alley.
Draco Malfoy smiled as he breathed in the life of the place, lined with stores and crowded with students and parents doing their back to school shopping. He pushed his shoulders back and puffed up before marching forward, flanked by his parents. This year, he wasn't coming with a governess or his mother to get an ice cream and people watch. This year, he would be one of the people shopping. He grinned up at his mother, and she sneaked a smile back. Lucius offered his arm to Narcissa, and the family of three paraded down the alley.
"Where do you want to go first, Draco?" Narcissa asked, smiling at her eleven-year-old son.
"Quality Quidditch Supplies!" he said excitedly, looking up at her with wide eyes. "They have a new broom, Mum, it's supposed to be even faster than the other models! Puddlemere United is going to buy them for the whole team, and so is Ireland's team, and Scotland's team…"
Narcissa laughed. "Well, if everyone is going to have one, so will you."
"No one in his year will have one, Narcissa," Lucius broke into their conversation. "You're a first year, Draco. First years aren't allowed brooms, as you well know. Wait until next year, when you'll be able to bring it to school. I'm sure they'll have come out with the next latest, greatest model by then."
Draco visibly wilted, not meeting his father's eyes.
"Where's the list, Narcissa?" Mr. Malfoy asked briskly. "We should get this done as quickly as possible."
Narcissa fumbled in her reticule, drawing out the crisp parchment. Draco's eyes followed his letter as his father took it. The man scanned it, then gave it back to Narcissa.
"Well," he said. "Narcissa, why don't you go look at wands. I'll go get the boy's books, and Draco, you go get your robes. It's a simple enough task, I'm sure you'll be able to do it on your own." His tone left no room for argument.
Draco's parents separated in front of Madame Malkin's, Narcissa moving back up the street, and Lucius stalking into Flourish and Blott's. Draco was left alone in front of the robe-maker's shop.
As he perused the window display, Lucius aimed an admonition like glare at his son. Draco stiffened and turned to march into Malkin's shop. Before he could, the door flew open, and a family came out. All three had brown hair, the adults with glasses, the daughter with huge teeth that Draco couldn't miss. How could he, when her mouth was wide open, gabbling away.
"I know we still have to get the school books, Mum, but do you think I could have whatever is left over? I wanted to get some extras, heaven knows it will be hard enough to start a new school, don't you think I should know something about the culture? Of course, we don't know how much anything costs yet, but I already have my wand, and that's the most important thing, don't you agree? But again, wands are nothing without books to learn spells from, which brings us back to the assigned books and extra reading…"
Draco stared as they passed by. It didn't seem that the girl even needed to breathe; he didn't think she stopped for a single breath. Shaking his head, he walked into the shop she had just exited. What an incredible swot, he thought, she'll have no friends.
Still, even though he tried to dismiss her and her family, the image of the three brown-haired people, walking up the street with their arms about each other stayed with him as he greeted Madame Malkin and began to fit his robes.
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She had always been the outsider, always been the nerd, the swot that no one wanted to be friends with. No one understood how fun school was, how she could even want to go back, miss it. Most people skipped whenever they could, but not Hermione. She was there every possible day.
So when Minerva McGonagall appeared at her front door with a letter, Hermione was excited.
Her parents were more skeptical. Are you sure, they asked the professor. Are you sure there's no mistake?
But she knew it, knew in her heart of hearts that it was true. She, Hermione Granger, was a witch.
She thought it explained everything, from her social awkwardness to her amazing grades. She convinced herself to study harder, and convinced her parents to buy her extra books from the wizarding bookstore. A wizard's bookstore. It was a dream come true for Hermione, who could never have enough books. Her parents got her the books, smiling at each other over her head at their daughter's excitement.
The rest of summer was a blur. She memorized all the textbooks, eyes wide in wonder at every single thing that was mentioned. She read the histories, not understanding half the words, words that included pureblood, half-blood, blood traitor, blood-status, muggle-born. Her parents were muggles. She was a witch. It was as simple as that.
She woke her parents up at 6 AM on September 1st.
"Hogwarts today!" was the constant refrain as she said last minute good-byes to her cat, to the bird, to the next-door neighbor who tolerated her but wasn't exactly a friend.
She would have friends, real friends, once she got to Hogwarts. She knew it. She could feel it in her bones.
"Platform Nine…Hermione, the next one is Platform Ten. There is no 'nine-and-three-quarters'," Mr. Granger said, scratching the back of his head.
"Don't you remember, Daddy?" she asked impatiently. "We have to run at the barrier. Magic, remember?"
Mr. and Mrs. Granger exchanged a look over their daughter's head. "Look, honey," Mr. Granger said, crouching down to Hermione's level. "It's hard for Mummy and I to see that there's magic here. We've been here before, remember when we went to visit Grandma in Wiltshire? There's never been anything between Platform Nine and Platform Ten. I commute to work every day. I'd notice if they were doing construction or anything."
"But it's magic," Hermione pleaded. "Perfectly safe. You wouldn't have noticed, you're a muggle, remember?" She looked at her mum. "You'll come with me, right, Mum?"
Mrs. Granger smiled wanly at her daughter. She kneeled beside her husband.
"Hermione," she whispered, blinking back tears. "Hermione, you're special. You're magic, and we…we're not. I think it's best if Daddy and I stay on this side of the barrier. Let's say our good-byes here."
Hermione's bottom lip trembled. This wasn't what was supposed to happen…her parents were supposed to say good-bye on the Platform, and wave at her as the train pulled out of the station. That was what happened in all of her school books…She looked back and forth between her father and mother's worried faces. She gulped, hoping it wasn't actually as loud as it sounded in her head.
"Okay," she whispered waterily. "Bye Mum, bye Dad…"
They hugged her.
"Be good at school, kid…"
"Show them your Granger smarts."
"We love you. We'll watch you go from here."
"Love you," Hermione said, drawing away and leaning on her trolley to push it forward. After a few steps, she wondered if maybe she had packed one too many books. Her trunk was more than a little bit heavy. One day I'll have magic to do this, she thought as she broke into a run, racing at the barrier.
She kept her eyes open the whole time, watching the wall draw closer and closer, refusing to cringe back or swerve to avoid a collision. That's what a muggle would do, she told herself, boosting her nerve. And I'm not a muggle. I'm a witch.
Hermione watched as the wall shimmered before her eyes, before turning into a smoke that she easily passed through. Coming out on the other side, she gaped at the different Platform. Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters, a sign said.
"I did it!" she squealed. "I'm here!" She jumped up and down a few moments, before quieting. Returning to her much too heavy trunk, she pulled it off the trolley and made her way to the train.
Finding a compartment was easy…she was obviously one of the first ones there, and most of them were empty. Huffing, she attempted to lift her trunk up onto the rack.
"Here, let me help you with that," a voice said, enunciating each word perfectly.
"Oh, thank you!" Hermione gasped, pushing her hair out of her face. A pale pair of hands helped her lift her trunk up onto the rack.
"Merlin, what do you have in that thing?" the boy who had helped her panted, pushing his hair out of his face.
"Books," she answered breathlessly. "Lots of them. I don't think I should pack as many next time…"
"Yeah, that might make it easier," the boy drawled. Straightening, he held out a hand.
"Malfoy," he said, then paused, clearly waiting for a reaction. When she just looked at him, he continued on. "Draco Malfoy."
"Well, Mr. Malfoy, I'm Hermione," she said, shaking his hand.
He made a face. "I don't like being called that. 'Mr. Malfoy.' Makes me think my dad's right behind me, and that's who they're talking to." He paused. "Do you have a last name, Hermione?"
"As a matter of fact," she said mischievously, "I do."
He raised his eyebrows at her, clearly expecting her to tell him. She just flopped back onto one of the seats, and looked at him.
He was fairly pretty, she thought. Beautiful hair. White blond, almost translucent, although the effect was taken away from a little bit by the slicked back hairstyle he wore, which made his pointy chin and nose even more pronounced. But he had nice eyes, and that made up for the pointiness. Hermione had a terrible weakness for eyes.
"Are you quite done?" he asked, growing tired of her inspection. "Or would you like me to spin around so you can examine my backside as well?" he added flippantly.
Hermione reddened, and his cheeks became pink as well as he realised what he had implied. "So," he cleared his throat. "Last name?"
"I don't think I'm going to tell you," the girl said contemplatively. "You put so much store in surnames."
"Really?" He joined her on the seat, aiming for a nonchalant pose. "And you think that why?"
"Most people would say their given name first," she said, leaning back. "But you started with your surname. You seem like one of those people to always call people by their last names, too. So, to cure you of that, you only get to know my first name."
She smirked at the boy. He looked at her, emotionless, for a moment, before cracking a smile. "You're a Slytherin for sure," he said decidedly.
Hermione's brow furrowed. "No, I don't think so," she said. "You see, I'm a…"
She was interrupted by stomping steps, coming straight toward her compartment. "What's that?" she asked in alarm.
Draco smirked at her expression. "Oh, it's probably just Crabbe and Goyle."
She raised her eyebrows. "Probably?"
Draco shrugged. "Or a couple of elephants, but I think those two are a fair guess."
"Malfoy!" Goyle said as he entered the compartment. "I'm here. Crabbe too."
"Well, I can see that," Draco said wryly as the two large boys put their trunks up. Hermione had shrunk in her seat as the two came in.
"Who's that?" Crabbe sneered at her as he took a seat.
"This is Hermione with the last name she won't tell us," Draco told him. "She's fine."
"Drakey!" a high-pitched voice squealed in the corridor.
Draco stiffened as Hermione looked even more bemused. "Anything you want to tell me, gentlemen?" he growled.
Hermione shook with suppressed laughter as the two huge boys knuckled down to the small, pale one.
"Pansy might have followed us," Goyle muttered. Draco groaned and threw his head against the seat.
"C'mere." He pulled Hermione from her side of the seat they were sharing over so she was pressed up against him.
"What are you doing?!" she hissed.
"I'm doing nothing," he said quietly. "You're saving me."
"From what?" she asked, more interested now.
"Drakey!"
The compartment door was flung open, and another first year stepped in, dressed in fashionable robes and kitten heels. Draco cringed, and Hermione inspected the girl. "What's so bad?" she whispered to Draco.
"Hey, Pansy," he croaked. "How are you?"
"Wonderful, Drakey…" she trailed off as she noticed Hermione. "Who's she?"
"This is Hermione," Draco said, patting the girl's curly hair. He hoped Pansy didn't notice how she stiffened at his touch.
"With no last name," Crabbe supplied.
"Not one she's telling us," Goyle finished.
"Probably a half-blood," Pansy sniffed, talking about Hermione as if the girl was invisible. She sat down in a seat, and fluffed out her skirt, posing prettily.
"Actually," Hermione began, "I'm not a…"
The compartment door banged open yet again, and Draco moaned. A pudgy boy fell in through the door, and quickly picked himself up.
"Hi, I…" He stopped as Crabbe and Goyle stood up, towering over him. "I…I'm looking for a toad…" he ended in a whisper.
"Oh dear, you've lost your toad?" Pansy snickered, wrinkling her nose up in an unpleasant way.
"No big loss," Draco said.
Hermione glared at him. "Where did you see him last?" she asked the boy.
"The compartment…" he whispered.
"Well, why don't we go check there first," she said. She looked back at Malfoy, as if she was expecting him to come along. He stared back at her as if she were crazy.
"Are you mad?" he asked. "You'll never find the slimy thing!"
While they had been talking, the boy had slowly inched his way out of the compartment.
"Well," Hermione said, face flushed. "I'm going to go help him anyway."
"I take it back," Malfoy said lazily as she stepped over Crabbe and Goyle's legs to get to the door. "No Slytherin. Probably a bleeding heart Hufflepuff."
His minions laughed, but Hermione didn't even turn around. Putting her hand behind her back, she flipped him the V before exiting the compartment. Draco laughed delightedly, then frowned. She got under his skin, and he still didn't know her last name.
"Pansy," he called. He patted the seat next to him. "Come sit with me."
Her instant gratification boosted his ego considerably.
"First year, and you've already got a girl following you, Malfoy," Blaise Zabini snickered as he slammed into their compartment.
"Two girls," Crabbe grunted.
"Oh?" Zabini raised perfectly shaped eyebrows. "And the other?"
"Awful, bushy-haired thing," Pansy sneered. "With teeth the size of dinner plates."
"No need to be nasty," Draco muttered under his breath. Pansy ignored him, continuing.
"I think she looks rather like a beaver." She sniffed, grabbing Draco's hand. "She'll be in Hufflepuff for sure."
"Slytherin," Draco said, in barely a whisper.
Hermione intrigued him. She was a bit of a mystery…any other girl, with him helping her with her trunk, would have been simpering and giggling, trying to spin the chance meeting to their advantage. And he hadn't really noticed her teeth…not until Pansy pointed them out.
He sighed, slouching in his chair. Hopefully Hermione with no last name would stop being a mystery soon. He couldn't imagine trying to explain her to his father.
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Harry Potter was nice enough, Hermione thought as she moved toward the compartment door. She and Neville Longbottom, the toad boy, had gone back across the train to his compartment, then gone to visit the other compartments. They had stopped when they got to the one with Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley. It hadn't been a very interesting visit, unless you counted the part where Ronald had failed to do a spell that almost certainly a fake.
"Come along, Neville," she said, opening the compartment door and breezing out. Almost immediately, she bumped into someone she recognized. Draco Malfoy, again. After the goodbye in his compartment, really her compartment, she wasn't sure how happy she was to see the boy.
"Oi, watch where you're going!" Draco said irritably as Hermione exited a compartment and crashed into him. The pudgy boy was following her, and he stumbled, barely regaining his balance in time to prevent a fall.
"Oh, I am sorry," Hermione said, backing up to look him in the eye. "I suppose I wasn't looking. In a bit of a hurry…you didn't happen to see his toad on your way here, did you?"
Draco stared at the girl in disbelief. "You really think I'd be looking for one?"
"Well, you did know Neville was looking for one," she said, not meeting his eyes.
"Neville?" he said blankly. "I don't know a Neville."
"This is Neville," she said, pushing the toadless boy in front of her.
"Oh," Draco said. "We weren't looking for a toad. Blaise Zabini said that everyone is saying Harry Potter is in a compartment down here." Though of course, it was a good excuse to go looking for her as well.
"He's in that compartment," she said, pointing to the compartment she had just left. "He's not really that special, to be honest."
"I suppose I just have to find out for myself," Draco said, looking past her. "If you'll excuse me."
He and his goons pushed past her to go to the compartment with the boys. Hermione was quite obliging, he thought as he walked into the compartment, Crabbe and Goyle following behind him. She had pointed out the location of Potter, and he hadn't had to go searching up and down the train for the bothersome boy.
"I'm going to go see the driver," Hermione informed Neville. "I'll see you at school!"
With that, she abandoned the boy in the corridor outside Harry Potter's compartment.
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The castle certainly was imposing. Draco stared at it as if he were trying to commit every little detail to memory. Really, the fact that Potter had rejected him, and Hermione had chosen the boat with Potter in it, stung a little bit.
He kept an eye on her as they walked up to the huge door, as they walked into the hall they were told to wait in by Professor McGonagall. (A half-blood, his father had told him. Dumbledore's right hand woman.). As they stood at a stand-still, he made his way up to her.
"Which house," he whispered in her ear. She flinched, and turned to him.
"Must you creep up on me like that," she asked, sounding resigned. He smirked at her, raising his eyebrows as if to say, what do you think?
"I don't know," she said. "About which house. All of them sound perfectly lovely, I don't know which I'd rather be in. Slytherin is right out, of course, what with me being muggle-born and all. They're all blood-purists, or most of them are. I honestly think Ravenclaw would be the best fit, but Gryffindor would be…"
"Wait." Draco held a hand out, stopping her in the middle of her tirade. "Muggle-born? You're muggle-born?" He sounded horrified.
She nodded. "Yes…?" Her voice twisted up at the end, making it sound like a question.
Draco took a large step back in between Crabbe and Goyle, his nose wrinkled. Muggle-born. It wasn't possible.
"And your last name?" he said coldly.
"Granger," she said, responding to his cold tone with an even colder one of her own.
"Of course," he sneered. "Muggle-born." He shook his head, still not believing it. "Muggle-born." He pushed away from her. Crabbe and Goyle followed him, reserving a sneer for the defamed girl. She watched them go, suddenly understanding.
Malfoy. His father was a blood-purist, or his grandfather had been. She shuddered. Of course he was. Hunching her shoulders, she turned to follow the group into the hall, attaching herself to Harry Potter once again.
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Another generation.
Draco was confused. Did the hat usually talk to those it sorted?
I'm sorry? He thought at it.
That's how I keep track, the hat replied. Yet another Malfoy, bound for Slytherin.
Yes, put me there, Draco said firmly.
Are you sure? The hat said. You…you could follow in your father's footsteps in Slytherin, that is for sure. But your little muggle-born friend is in Gryffindor.
She's not my friend. Put me in Slytherin, please, put me in Slytherin, Draco begged desperately.
If you're sure, the hat said. Better be SLYTHERIN!
The last was shouted out to the hall. Draco sighed with relief, and moved toward his new house's table, disguising his shakiness as best he could.
Hermione watched him. Slytherin. How did she not see it? And…why did it hurt so much that he had rejected her.
She was beginning to lose her hopes for best friends. It was occurring to her that wizarding children were exactly the same as normal children, just with magic.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts…"
Draco opted out of singing, and just watched as the whole school made fools of themselves. He laughed with Zabini at the teachers, standing up there smiling, or, in the case of Professor Snape, scowling furiously. All of them, except for Dumbledore, looked as if they wanted to plug their ears.
"Crazy old duffer," Zabini said.
Draco nodded. Almost against his will, his eyes were drawn to the muggle-born. Hermione Granger. He cringed and looked away. She was singing with fervor, as if they were going to be graded on it.
When the feast was over, he almost decided to seek her out. At the last minute, he turned and followed the Slytherin prefect, putting the bushy-haired girl out of his mind.
Now if only he could forget he had met her.
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A/N: First chapter of my attempt at a canon based Dramione. Read and review!
