Chapter 2:

June 10th could not have come any sooner for Hermione. A few days earlier, the Ministry of Magic sent her an owl explaining the exact location of the Portkey that would take her to the United States. The Portkey would be departing at 2:56 sharp, but the three Grangers arrived at the Leaky Cauldron in Diagon Alley with a great deal of time to spare.

Even though Mr. and Mrs. Granger had been to Diagon Alley several times, the two still could not shake the nervous expressions that always seemed to be plastered on their faces. The cold, dreadful ambiance was enough to make any Muggle feel terrified. Hermione failed to notice her parents' anxiousness; she was understood that her parents, although proud, were still not comfortable with their only daughter being a witch.

Hermione paced the corridor of the Leaky Cauldron. The floorboards crept underneath her black dress shoes. Her hands dug deep into her freshly pressed maroon robes as she a waited the time of departure.

Mr. Granger, after a beer, relaxed more in his chair as the family waited for the beaten up grandfather clock to strike 2:56. "Hermione, dear," Mr. Granger said in a voice just above a whisper, "I wonder when the other student will be arriving here to go. It is nearly 2:50…"

Hermione stopped dead in her step. "Other person?"

She reached into her right pocket of her neatly pressed robes. Scanning through the letter with her eyes, she found the line. 'You and another chosen member from your year at Hogwarts will compete…most highly regarded witch and/or wizard pair of the United Wizards of the World…' Suddenly she felt stupid. She had been obsessing over the dream of receiving the title of most regarded witch at the conference.

"Right, right, someone else…" She mumbled to herself.

Just as Hermione began to accept that someone else from her school might be sharing that title with her, the Leaky Cauldron's old, rotting door pushed open. A familiar set of deep, emerald green robes swished across the floor. No, thought Hermione, it can't be… the United Wizards of the World would not select him to go to the conference. Hermione had barely enough time to process that she and Draco Malfoy would be spending the next week working closely together far away from Hogwarts.

Draco barely looked at Hermione, his eyes were focused on his own mother who looked distraught and out of place. Her hair, which usually was a long, sleek, shiny blonde, seemed to have faded. Her usual snobbish attitude appeared to have left her. It was understandable that Narcissa Malfoy seemed to have lost her confidence. The Dark Lord her family supported was falling, and soon Narcissa may join her husband in Azkaban. Draco Malfoy, on the other hand, did not lost his swagger. Although his face had greatly aged over the past year, he still had not been able to shake the swagger he was known to carry.

Draco sent a darting look Hermione's way. It was quite obvious he was thinking the same thing she was.

"Why him?" she mumbled against her mother's ear as they were in an embrace. "He's the worst… bloody worst…"

Victor Granger had a few words of wisdom for her daughter, which he told her quietly as they embraced. "It's only a week, dear…"

"Granger," Malfoy eventually spat out before they were about to touch the dirty beer mug, "don't think we're going to become friends after this." His grey eyes pierced through hers.

She scoffed at him, shaking her bushy hair incessantly, "Don't you have to worry about that, Malfoy,

2:56 came, and the beer mug in the back of the Leaky Cauldron lit up. As they traveled through to New York City, Hermione could not help but curse herself for wanting to win badly. Now, if she won, she would have to share the title with the awful Draco Malfoy.