A/N: The first few chapters are going to be Hermione's adventures through her first few years at Hogwarts. Once we get up to Sixth Year, the story will take a more normal pace, with all the Romance I promised. :) I have no earthly idea how well this story will go, but I wanted to try, and haven't found any fics like this one.
All the warnings you'll need: Hermione will not be friends with Harry or Ron, though they will be background in the story, and they will not suffer because of a lack of Hermione's friendship. She won't be a blood status bigot, though, either. Later in the story, there will be scenes of a sexual nature. As mentioned in the summary, Hermione grew up Pureblood, and Draco's been her best friend for quite a while. There's most likely going to be cursing, cause it's a horrible habit of mine and it always weaves into my writing. That being said, if you'd still like to read, thank you! Review, please! :)
Chapter One: First Year
Hermione's eyes were alight with excitement as she almost literally bounced up and down in her seat on the Hogwarts Express. She'd just hugged and kissed her mother goodbye, waved goodbye to Lucius and Narcissa, and boarded the train. Now she sat, waiting for her friends to join her and for the train to start moving. She absolutely couldn't wait to get to Hogwarts, to be a student at Hogwarts. She'd grown up hearing about it all of her life, yearning for the day when she would finally be old enough to attend. Today was finally the day. September 1st. In a few hours, she would be walking into the Great Hall, putting the old Sorting Hat on top of her head, and falling asleep in her dormitory.
Draco chuckled as he entered the compartment. "Might want to try calming down before you give yourself a heart attack." His trunk banged against the door and walls as he drug it into the room, hoisting it above his head to place it on the overhead rack. Hermione glared at him, crossing her arms.
"Some of us are excited to educate ourselves. I wouldn't expect you to understand. Stupidity never does," she retorted. Draco laughed, taking a seat next to her and throwing his arm around her shoulders, mockingly pulling her close.
"It's going to be a great year, Granger."
"Shove off Malfoy."
Draco took the opportunity to make fun of Hermione once more while they waited for Professor McGonagall to arrive and take them into the Great Hall. Ignoring it, she smiled largely, fidgeting. Suddenly, Draco caught sight of a black haired boy. "It's true then," he bellowed out, catching everyone's attention. Crabbe and Goyle stood behind him, putting their best 'menacing' faces on. Hermione rolled her eyes. "What they're saying on the train. Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts." The other First Years looked around, standing on tip toes to see over other students. Hermione's eyes fell on a boy with glasses, shaggy black hair covering his forehead where she knew a lightning bolt scar was etched. "This is Crabbe, Goyle, and Hermione," Draco motioned to each of them, and Hermione smiled slightly. She noticed he'd ignored Pansy and wondered why. "And I'm Malfoy," Draco said, stepping towards the boy. "Draco Malfoy." A red haired boy next to Potter snickered, and Draco's turned to glare at him. "Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask yours. Red hair and a hand-me-down robe. You must be a Weasley." The Weasley boy said nothing, and Draco returned his attention to Harry. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort." He gestured towards Ron, like no one had understood his implication. "I can help you there." Draco stuck his hand out, waiting for Potter to shake it.
Hermione watched as Potter's eyes trailed down to Draco's hand, and then, slowly, back up to his face. "I think I can tell 'the wrong sort' for myself, thanks," he replied, and Hermione's mouth fell as her eyes lit up with laughter. Draco would be furious, of course, but she found it hilarious. Professor McGonagall stepped up then, tapping Draco on the shoulder with a roll of parchment. Draco walked back over towards the rest of his friends.
"We're ready for you now. Follow me," the woman said, turning around, and walking away. Two large, wooden doors opened as the students approached them, McGonagall leading them inside. Hundreds of students in pointy black hats stared as the First Years walked through. Candles hovered in the air as torches hung on the wall. Hermione stared up at the ceiling, enchanted to reflect the sky outdoors.
"It's not real, the ceiling," Hermione told Draco, nudging him to pay attention to her. "It's just bewitched to look like the night sky. I read about it in Hogwarts, a History"
Draco nodded, even though he'd already known. He'd read it, too.
They came to a stop in front of a three legged stool with an old, weathered hat sitting atop it. Professor McGonagall stood beside the stool, turning to face the students. An old man with a long, white beard sat at a table behind the stool in a golden chair far larger than the other chairs at the table. Hermione assumed this man was Dumbledore from hearing the Malfoys speak of him. She didn't understand their hatred. He looked nice enough. "Will you wait along here, please?" Professor McGonagall asked, pointing the roll of parchment to gesture where she wanted them to stand. After all the students had settled into the small space, she tapped the stool with the parchment.
The mouth of the hat – yes, the hat had a mouth! – opened and started singing.
Oh you may not think I'm pretty,
But don't judge what you see.
I'll eat myself if you can find
A smarter hat than me.
You can keep your bowlers black,
Your top hats sleek and tall,
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat
And I can cap them all.
There's nothing hidden in your head
The Sorting Hat can't see,
So try me on and I will tell you
Where you ought to be.
You might belong in Gryffindor,
Where dwell the brave at heart.
Their daring, never and chivalry
Set Gryffindors apart.
You might belong in Hufflepuff,
Where they are just and loyal.
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true
And unafraid of toil.
Or yet, in wise old Ravenclaw
If you've a ready mind.
Where those of wit and learning,
Will always find their kind.
Or perhaps in Slytherin
You'll make your real friends.
Those cunning folk use any means
To achieve their ends.
So put me on! Don't be afraid!
And don't get in a flap!
You're in safe hands (though I have none)
For I'm a Thinking Cap!
The Hall burst into applause, and Hermione looked over at Draco excitedly, pleased to see her expression mirrored. Nervousness quickly replaced excitement, and suddenly, Hermione was scared. She knew it didn't matter where she was placed. Nothing would change. She would be the same, her friends would still be by her side, and her parents would remain proud. She continued repeating the mantra in her head as she felt a hand slide into hers, and give it a squeeze. She looked over at Draco and smiled. "You'll be fine. Whatever's chosen," he consoled, before letting his trademark smirk take over. "Well, unless you're put in Gryffindor." He faked a shudder. "Oh, ugh, Hufflepuff."
Hermione laughed. "What about Ravenclaw?"
"I think, for you, it'll be a tossup between Ravenclaw and Slytherin. I guess if you ended up in Ravenclaw, I'd still talk to you. Between bookshelves where no one could see, of course."
Hermione elbowed him and he feigned hurt while McGonagall started unrolling her parchment.
"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said, not giving them time to confirm or deny understanding before starting. "Abbott, Hannah!"
The hat deemed her, and two other students in quick succession, Hufflepuffs. Crabbe was chosen for Slytherin and a Ravenclaw passed, followed by a Gryffindor and Slytherin while the names quickly approached the F's. Hermione was growing nervous again, and not even her best friend's hand in hers was calming her down. Justin Finch-Fletchley was deemed a Hufflepuff, and Seamus Finnigan, a Gryffindor, before her name was finally called. Draco gave one last squeeze before letting go. She walked up to the stool with an equal amount of fear and enthusiasm. Pulling the hat onto her head, she gasped as it started speaking inside her mind.
"Mmm, a great mind, I see. Possibly the smartest witch I've sorted in a long time. You'd do well in Ravenclaw. Though, you're equally as brave, so maybe it's Gryffindor where you belong. Or, what is this? Perhaps… Slytherin?" Hermione smiled, which alerted the hat. "Ah, Slytherin's a favorite of yours then."
"Please just put me where I will become the best that I can be," she begged.
"If you're sure… then it'll be SLYTHERIN!"
The Slytherin table erupted in cheers as she made her way to sit with her new house, smiling at Draco along the way. She watched as the rest of the students were sorted. When Draco reached the stool, the hat barely grazed his hair before shouting, "SLYTHERIN!" Hermione sat the spot on the bench next to her as he walked around to the table, taking the seat happily. She could tell a load had fallen from his shoulders. Mr. Malfoy would've punished him severely had he made any house other than his family's alma mater.
Pansy and a boy named Blaise Zabini were sorted into Slytherin, while Potter and Weasley fell into seats at the Gryffindor table.
Finally, by the end of the week, it was time for what Hermione assumed would be her favorite class: Potions. The only downside was having to listen to Draco complain that 'they would have to sit through double potions with the Gryffindors.'
Hermione, Draco, Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle all walked towards the dungeons together. Pansy was going on and on about the Zabini boy and how cute she thought he was. It made Hermione want to gag. How on Earth did Pansy even have the time to think about boys, Hermione didn't know.
She finally shut up when the loud banging of a door against the concrete walls announced Professor Snape's entrance. He walked fluidly to his podium, his cape billowing behind him. Hermione noticed he wore all black, his clothes having three times the normal amount of buttons on them. He started taking roll, pausing momentarily around the middle of the list. "Ah, yes," he said quietly. "Harry Potter. Our new… celebrity."
Hermione rolled her eyes. The preoccupation with Harry Potter was getting extremely old. Draco, Crabbe and Goyle all snickered, and even Hermione's elbow to Draco's ribs didn't stop him. She feared the Potion's Master would soon turn towards them and start deducting house points, but he never did.
"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he started. His voice was low, and the students found they had to be dead silent to catch his words. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses." All of that sounded quite amazing to Hermione, so she didn't know what he meant when he said they would hardly believe it to be magic. It all seemed pretty magical to her! "I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death… if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach." He paused, for dramatic effect she was sure, looking around the classroom at each individual student. "Potter!" Snape called when his eyes landed on the boy. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
Hermione glanced over at Potter, reiterating the answer in her head. Harry looked confused, turning to Ron. Her hand shot in the air, and Draco nudged her as if she were crazy, but she ignored him, waving her hand wildly. Snape ignored her.
"I don't know, sir."
"Tut tut, fame clearly isn't everything."
Slowly, Hermione lowered her hand, assuming Snape wasn't going to let anyone else answer, but when he asked his second question, she couldn't help but raise it again.
"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"
Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle all started laughing again when Potter didn't reply.
"I don't know, sir."
"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?"
Hermione figured she would have to commend Potter for keeping eye contact at least. That was something she could respect, even as her hand started aching from being in the air so long.
"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
Oh, Lord, even Potter had to have known that one. Crabbe and Goyle probably even knew the difference.
"I don't know. I think Hermione does, though. Why don't you try her?" A few kids laughed, and Hermione probably would've scowled at them for distrubting class so immaturely if Snape's eyes hadn't flitted to her at the exact moment. He nodded at her, gesturing for her to finally answer.
She lowered her hand and cleared her throat. "Asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of the Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. Monkshood and wolfsbane are the same plant, also known as aconite."
A mixture of emotions passed Snape's face. Pride was the only one she could register, though. She'd been striving for those looks most of her life.
"Well," he finally snapped to the rest of the students. "Why aren't you all copying that down? And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter."
The only class Hermione knew she'd fail approached quickly. Flying. She might fear very little in the world, but heights was her worst. She'd hated flying ever since she was five years old and she and Draco rode the brooms they'd gotten for Christmas around the back yard. They only went about five and a half feet off of the ground, but when you fall five feet, that's enough. Ever since, she'd never touched another broom. She'd sit outside all day and watch Draco zoom around, but when it came to her doing it herself, she adamantly refused.
At three thirty, the Slytherins made their way down to the grounds for the first lesson. Draco slung his arm around Hermione's shoulder, shaking her slightly. "You'll do fine, Granger." Hermione didn't answer, eyeing the brooms with trepidation. "Why don't you just tell Madam Hooch you're scared?" he asked, knowing all too well that the last thing Hermione would do was admit defeat. He thought she'd probably even die first. She glared at him, shrugging off him arm. The Gryffindors finally arrived ten minutes later, just before Madam Hooch did.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up! Stick out your right hand over your broom, and say 'Up!'"
Draco's broom flew right into his hand, along with Potter's. Hermione's simply rolled around on the grass. Eventually, though, it made it into her hand – one of the last few.
"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle… why aren't you mounting your broom Miss Granger?"
Hermione's lower lip trembled further. Now she was being reprimanded.
"She's afraid of heights, Professor. She fell off her broom as a child," Draco spoke up, and Hermione both wanted to kiss his cheek in thank you, and do his face in.
A few Gryffindors snickered. "Guess we know now why she isn't a Gryffindor huh? Scaredy cat, and all that," Ron Weasley spoke up, laughing as if to cue the others.
"No one asked your opinion, Weasel," Draco retorted.
"Alright, alright," Madam Hooch called. "Go sit on the steps, Hermione dear. The rest of you, mount your brooms.
Hermione dropped the broomstick, turning to Draco. She mouthed a thank you as she walked away.
The rest of the year went by smoothly… well, for Hermione. She studied 'her arse off', as Draco put it, hoping to help Slytherin win as many points for the House Cup as she possibly could.
On Halloween night, a troll entered the school, causing just the right amount of chaos for a week full of drama afterwards. He did quite a large amount of damage to the girl's room on the ground floor, but eventually the teachers found him and somehow got rid of him.
Draco got detention in April with Potter, Weasley, and Longbottom. He came back going on and on about a cloaked figure. Hermione listened intently, but after nothing else came from the incident in the coming weeks, so she soon ignored it.
By the end of the year, she realized she was wrong. Harry Potter and Ron Weasley had somehow ended up below the school, battling three-headed dogs, Devil's Snare, potion's riddles, chess games, and Professor Quirrell.
Despite the fact that Slytherin had more points than the other houses prior to stepping into the Great Hall, they left coming in second place, behind Gryffindor.
Hermione ended up having to hear all about Draco's hatred for 'Potty and the Weasel' on the train ride home. She ignored him after doing her best to teach him that it was better to kill someone with kindness than to insult them every chance they got.
When they finally reached Kings' Cross, Hermione was happy to be home. Hogwarts was amazing, but she missed her parents.
"How was your first year at Hogwarts, Princess?" her father asked, taking her trunk from her and pulling her into a tight embrace.
"Great, Daddy. Slytherin almost won the House Cup!"
"You'll get it next year, I'm sure," her mother replied.
I'm not sure how I feel about the way the story's going, but what do I know? How do you think that was? Leave any comments, questions, concerns or ideas in a review please! :)
Timeline for this story:
Ch. 1 – First Year
Ch. 2 – Second Year
Ch. 3 – Third Year
Ch. 4 – Fourth Year
Ch. 5 – Fifth Year, and caught up. From there, things will follow cannon, but chapters will go over shorter amounts of time. It will eventually go into sixth & seventh years if I continue.