I am deeply upset with the number of reviews i received. I had plently of story alert adds, but the reviews were the exact reason why i stopped writing this story. i love reviews as much as the next author, but i just want your feedback to know if i'm doing anything wrong, and if no one reviews, then how am i supposed to know? please take five seconds out of your time to leave me something, anything, i dont care, just some form of wording. Thanks!

A seven-year-old Hermione Granger awoke in her nice warm bed of her parents country home in the south of France. It was the summer before she would start primary school back in England. She smiled, excited for the new adventure, but also scared for her first day. She had never gone to school before. Or at least, she doesn't remember going to school. She crawled out of bed, making sure to make her bed before she left her room, and ran down the stairs to smell her parents, Henry and Patricia, making a delicious English breakfast. She loved France. It was quiet, peaceful, and beautiful.

She sat at the large table and began eating what was put in front of her. She drank a cup of orange juice slowly, enjoying the taste of its freshness. It had obviously been squeezed just that morning. Her parents joined her at the table, smiling at the little girl in front of them.

Hermione always thought it was strange. She had no recollection of her childhood. She just woke up one day and found herself in a place unknown to her, and yet she knew her parents. They told she was in an accident and might never get her memory back. That was a year ago. They were always smiling at her, always very kind to her, always trying to do things with or for her. She didn't like this so much. It was like they were there all the time, following her every move. She doesn't like the attention, she liked to keep her distance.

What bothered her the most since the "accident" were these weird dreams that she kept having. They were blurry, and she could never tell who it was she was with. She just knew it was a boy about her age, and all she could really see were his silver eyes. They were bright, and shiny, and she loved to look at them. She could never hear what he said, but she knew he was saying something to her. He was waving his hand in front of her face, and he even poked her in the cheek! It saddened her, because she wanted to know why he was doing this…

This was her first time to France, or so she thought, she doesn't remember coming before. But she was fluent in the language, she doesn't understand how. It came natural to her. Her parents say that they've been there plenty of times, and they've been teaching her French since she first started talking. She wished she could remember. Nothing seems to make sense to her, but she loves her parents.

Patricia and Henry were also shocked when she spoke French for the first time. She was always well mannered, exquisite and sweet. She sat with her back straight at the table and ate with the right fork, never having to ask which one was which. She could read quickly, having to buy her new books every week because she would fly through them. She was finally annoyed with children's book about three months prior, and was starting to make her way through chapter books too. She loved fantasy! Although she could read history books like a fiend, fiction was still her favorite. They couldn't help but get her what she wanted. She was really smart for her age. It surprised all of their friends. They knew she was adopted, but Henry and Patricia told them to keep quiet about it; "Act as if you've known her since birth" they said.

Hermione quickly ate her breakfast before leaving back to her room to take a shower and brush her teeth. Something told her she needed to go outside. It was a nice day, and the garden was blooming beautifully. Maybe her mother would let her do some finger painting in the field that's behind the house.

She walked out of the house fifteen minutes later, a huge pad of paper and lots of different colored paints in her small hands. She loved painting, especially with her hands! She was a kid, what did you expect? Anything to do with your hands was fun! Her dad had laid a blanket out in the grass for her to lie on, and her mom put a big hat on her head and some sun block so she wouldn't burn in the summer sun. As she settled herself down and opened all the paints, she stared at the piece of paper, hoping an idea would pop out at her. She thought of the boy from her dream. He was so confusing. She took a deep breath and began her new masterpiece.

The boy was a simple stick figure. He had grey dots for eyes, and short yellow hair, and there was a tree behind him that was on fire. She continued to paint in the grass and clouds, along with a big house in the corner.

She got up and looked at her painting. She wiped her hands on the cloth her mom sent out to her before running her fingers horizontally across the drawing, smudging it. It was definitely her dream alright. She smiled, and started ripping off the paper from the pad to start another one, this time of her house in England. She really missed her home, and the neighborhood kids she played with. She really wanted to go to her parents office, and sit with the receptionist, Justine, who always knew how to make her laugh. She loved the office. All the people were nice to her and she was amazed by the tools that were used to clean peoples teeth. Because of this, her parents were constantly checking to see if she brushed her teeth after every meal.

As she was adding the final touches, like the bushes in the front yard, she heard a small yell coming her way. She looked over to see a boy with blonde hair who was, to her amazement, flying on a broom.

"Watch out!" he yelled to her.

She jumped up and watched as he crash landed on the blanket, tumbling to a stop a few feet away from her. He got up, dusting off his strange looking clothes, and looked towards her. He turned around and picked up his small broom, while Hermione spotted the picture of her house stuck to his back.

"I'm sorry about this" he said scratching his head. Hermione walked up to him and pealed off her painting from his back. He saw what she had and his eyes got wide. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to ruin your drawing!"

She shook her head. "It's ok" she smiled, before crumpling it up into a ball and throwing it on the blanket. He was surprised she spoke English. He thought he might have to speak French to her. She looked back towards the boy. "What were you doing?" she asked, motioning to the broom.

He looked down at the new gift he got for his birthday. How could he explain to a muggle what he was doing with a broom. "Uh… I was cleaning the… grass? It seemed a little dirty at my house" he pointed to the other country home on the hill an acre away from hers.

She raised an eyebrow but ignored it. The boy looked at her, still scratching his head, and that's when she realized the color of his eyes. They were silver, just like the ones from her dream. She knew them all too well. She went over and picked up her first painting and showed it to the boy.

He didn't understand. "Is that me?" he asked, confused.

She nodded. He had never seen this girl before in his short life before. She had curly brown hair and brown eyes, with very faint freckles across her nose. The picture she was holding was a drawing of the time Loretta set a tree on fire. He recognized that instantly, even if it was smudged. "I've been having this weird dream, and this is what it looks like. But I can never really see anything, just your eyes. I never understood what it meant."

He knew he couldn't tell her what it was. A muggle would never understand how a little girl could set a tree on fire. He thought maybe she was a Seer, since he knew that muggles could have the gift of the third eye just like magical folks. "My name is Draco Malfoy. What's yours?" he questioned.

She smiled, sticking out her hand. "Hermione Granger" He shook her small hand. An electric shock went through there hands and caused them to yank their hands back. She looked at her hand, as he did the same to his. It was fine, not burnt, maybe a little tingly but that was ok.

"What was that?" she asked, looking up at him.

He shrugged. "I have no idea…" They stopped, and turned, hearing Draco's name being called from behind him. His mother was standing on top of the hill. He turned back to Hermione. "I'm sorry, I have to go. It was nice to meet you!" he yelled as he ran up to his mom.

Hermione watched as his mother looked at the paint on Draco's back before ushering him inside. Hermione turned back to her painting project and began painting again, never forgetting the boy named Draco with the silver eyes.

Three years had passed, and ten-year-old Hermione still had the strange dream, but was unable to interpret it. She was in France again, for the summer, as always. She never saw Draco again. The house up on the hill was unoccupied, empty and hollow. She didn't tell her parents about that day, thinking they might feel she was crazy about a boy who came crashing into her life on a broom. She was out in the field again, this time reading a really good book about the royal family of England (their was always something interesting about them that she really enjoyed).

"Hermione! Your lunch is ready!" her father called from the French doors.

"Coming!" she replied, marking her page before getting up and running to the dinning room.

Her sandwich that she requested earlier was sitting on a plate with a cup of tea and a warm bowl of soup next to it. She absolutely loved soup. When she was eight, she practically lived off of soup and only soup. Though it was only a phase that she grew out of, she still loved it when soup was served to her, and this her parents knew. After finishing her sandwich, brushing her teeth like her parents say to do, and helping her mother with the dishes, an owl came through the window. Nobody was shocked to see the owl, which shocked Hermione the most. She felt like she had seen this happen before, but her parents didn't even scream. The owl dropped a letter on the table before perching on the back of a chair. Her father timidly looked to his wife, and then walked over to the letter.

"It's for you Hermione" he handed her the letter.

She took it curiously. The front read:

Miss H. Granger

Third room on the right of the second floor

9800 Kings Road

Chambery

Southern France

The back was sealed with a wax seal of an H.

"Are you going to open it?" her mother asked, standing close to her husband, both starring at the letter they never received.

Hermione broke the seal carefully before pulling out the piece of parchment.

"Dear Ms. Granger,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,

Deputy Headmaster" she read aloud.

"Is this a joke?" she asked, uncertain of what to do.

"I don't think so Hermione…" her mother said quietly. "That owl looks pretty convincing to me" she eyed the owl that was pecking at its feathers.

"What should I do?" Hermione looked over the letter. "Should I reply? Say this must be some mistake?"

Her father shrugged. "How about we ask for someone to come and explain this to us more." he suggested.

Hermione nodded and ran to get a piece of paper. She quickly scribbled a note, rolled it up into a scrolls and tied it with some ribbon she found. She cautiously walked over to the owl and stuck her hand out with the letter held in it. The owl grabbed the letter and flew back out the window.

Everyone stared at the owl until it was no longer there. "Well... that was strange!" Hermione announced, while her mother and father nodded in agreement.

Two months later, and Hermione was making her way through Platform 9¾ at the King's Cross Station, to see the big red train know as the Hogwarts Express. Destination: Hogsmeade Station, wherever that is, Hermione thought. She climbed aboard the train and found an empty compartment. She pulled out Hogwarts: A History, and began reading about the school she didn't know. She had read all of her school books, twice, and was dying to see this wonderful new world of magic. She always wanted to live the fantasy, and she got what she wished for.

After reading chapter three, someone opened her compartment door. A blonde boy came through and stopped short of the threshold. He looked up at Hermione and she looked at him. Those familiar silver eyes reached her soft chocolate brown ones.

"Hermione?" Draco asked, unsure if it was her.

"Draco?" she asked, and then looked down at the book, and back up at him. "Well…this really explains the broom."

He laughed, "Yea, I'm still sorry about that. I would have told you if I had known you were a witch."

"Draco!" A girl with long black hair walked over to Draco. "Why are you talking to this filth? Excuse me mudblood, we have better places to be than with the likes of you! Come on Draco" the girl pulled the young boy away from Hermione's compartment. She got up and looked in the direction they were going.

"Pansy! Stop pulling me!" she heard Draco complain.

Hermione didn't like this girl named Pansy. The word she used, mud whatever, didn't sound pleasant. Hermione sneezed, and she heard Pansy screaming. She looked to see Pansy's hair aflame. She was screaming her head off before running past Hermione, into a bathroom and drenching her head with water. She walked back out of the bathroom, her hair now to her chin from being chard off. Hermione couldn't help but giggle at the angry girl. She wanted to know who did that and thank them. She looked in the opposite direction to Draco who was starring wide eye at Hermione. Her eyes flashed a violet color quickly before turning back to brown, unbeknownst to her. Hermione smiled to Draco before going back into her compartment, and continue reading.

Draco knew something was up, but decided to leave Hermione be. Pansy was somewhat right. It's not that he couldn't associate himself with muggleborns and half-bloods, it's just that he knew all the other Slytherins wouldn't respect him if he did. He walked to the compartment Blaise was in and settled himself for the long awaited trip, thinking about his missing Loretta, wondering if she was ok and happy.

It was time for the Sorting to begin and Hermione was nervous. She didn't know what house she would be in, and she was so scared she might be placed in Hufflepuff. She tried hard to not show how terrified she really was and just kept taking deep breaths. When he name was called, she walked over to the stall and sat cautiously. The hats brim came to just past her eyes and a voice began to speak in her head.

"Hmmm interesting. I don't think I've seen a case like you ever in my long long life. You have everything, courage, cunningness, brains, and you seem too be very loyal. This is a very hard decision indeed. I could put you in any house!" she heard the hat say.

"Not Hufflepuff" Hermione thought.

"Well that leaves me with three other houses. You don't seem evil enough to be in Slytherin, though I know you would do very well in there. And Ravenclaw could do wonders to your growing mind! - No, well I could always put you in GRYFFINDOR!"

Hermione smiled, and bounced off the stool before joining the others at the Gryffindor table, a pair of silver eyes watching each one of her steps curiously.

If she was her, she would have been in Slytherin with us… he thought, dejected that his purple-eyed friend was still missing.

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