She always knew that she was meant for something more. The bullies didn't bother her, in fact, she almost felt sorry for them. They simply couldn't understand what she was.

Her parents laughed off her great-grandmama's stories, but she'd absolutely absorbed them. She'd always looked forward to seeing her once a month when her parents drove down to Cornwall to visit. Her parents would roll their eyes when she eagerly hopped up beside her and listened to the tales about magical creatures that ranged from unicorns to mermaids, giants to veelas. About the Ministry of Magic and how useless it was when it came to dealing with the crimes of Grindelwald and his successor, Voldemort. Myths that were lost to almost everyone these days about lost magical royalty and extinct families. About Hogwarts.

"You'll go there one day sweetie," she murmured lowly so that no-one else could hear, "I know you will."

She'd always believed her. No matter what anybody else said she knew that she was special. She waited anxiously for the day that somebody would come to invite her to Hogwarts and she felt a certain grim satisfaction when that day arrived.

They'd all been sitting down to breakfast when the knock at the door had come and Hermione's father had excused himself to answer it. She hadn't been shocked to find herself being introduced to one of her new teachers, Professor McGonagall. And when her parents had protested about such nonsense, the woman, the witch, had simply transformed into a cat, hopped onto the sofa and purred before changing back, automatically putting an end to their doubts. She didn't let on to her parents how pleased she was though, she knew they wouldn't appreciate it. That they couldn't, wouldn't, understand how out of place she'd always felt.

She also knew that they wouldn't approve of her little, project.

It had become so clear to her: once she entered Hogwarts, once she became a part of the world where she truly belonged, she would no longer have a place in her parents' world. No matter that it was where she'd been raised, in the end it was a foreign country. She needed a plan.

It was almost frighteningly easy. She asked Professor McGonagall before the woman left, to help her get a subscription to the wizarding paper, the Daily Prophet and from there she bribed the birds sent to deliver it with her pocket money. They felt no allegiance to a company that treated them like mere beasts, and went out of their way for the girl who made sure they were always supplied with fresh mice.

When she wrote to a certain archive for information, her faithful feathered companions pecked the attendant- who would normally be compelled to refuse her request- until he was convinced to give her any information she desired. And she knew almost immediately which family of the Sacred Twenty-Eight she should target.

Malfoy.

It was a disgraced house. The last war had left a dark stain on it. And it could benefit from an association with a muggleborn like her. Of course, she'd have to convince the Malfoy heir. The rich, cultured, and handsome Malfoy heir, if the pictures from the Daily Prophet society pages were any indication. He would have to believe that she was someone he would be lucky to have on his arm.

She'd always known she was meant for something more.

In the days before she was due at Hogwarts her great-grandmama came to see her. She presented her with the most beautiful gold locket Hermione had ever seen, an intricate pattern etched into its front.

"Wear this always, little love." She told her quietly, when her parents were otherwise distracted, clasping it around her neck. They still did not approve of the ideas she'd put into their daughter's head, even though Hermione's invitation to Hogwarts should have confirmed her outlandish sounding tales.

Hermione nodded, feeling like she'd just been given something very special, and on top of that a very serious responsibility.

She walked onto Platform 9 ¾ with a whole new attitude, her locket proudly on display. She would bend this new world to her will.

Pansy had been excited to finally be heading to Hogwarts, but just a couple of hours into the journey and she was already bored. These children were just so dull. She had been sitting with Draco, whom she'd known her entire life, and whom she generally liked even if he was quite full of himself. Still, he was clever and had something of a mean streak which was usually very entertaining because he didn't dare cross her and watching others squirm was always amusing. But for some inexplicable reason he'd decided to ally himself with those absolute goons, Crabbe and Goyle.

Five minutes trying not to watch them as they practically inhaled a myriad of sweets from the trolley and she'd had to escape the compartment. Unfortunately the older students weren't interested in a girl who was so clearly a firstie, given that her robes were the plain black of an unsorted student and so she'd taken to wandering up and down the train. She nearly ran into a girl who wasn't watching where she was going, rather she had her eyes trained to the floor.

"Watch it!" She snapped.

The other girl immediately looked up. She had enough hair for three witches and was wearing odd clothes that Pansy could only assume were muggle, but fortunately before she could say anything more insulting she caught sight of the locket dangling from her neck. She barely stopped herself from dropping into a curtsey, but she couldn't help the gasp that escaped her. Luckily the girl, the lost princess, was too preoccupied to notice.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! I'm looking for a toad, a boy named Neville's lost one. You haven't seen it anywhere, have you?"

Pansy just blinked at her. She was looking for a toad? What kind of wizard actually brought a toad to Hogwarts and why was this girl wasting her time looking for it? They were absolutely useless. If her parents had given her a toad she would have found a way to lose it before she could be seen with it. But it would probably be rude of her to say that. So instead she plastered on a smile.

"No, I'm sorry I haven't seen any loose toads. I'm Pansy Parkinson by the way, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Oh, I'm Hermione Granger."

She stuck out her hand and Pansy eyed it warily. What was she supposed to do? Was this some kind of muggle greeting? Pansy hesitantly put her hand forward, not wanting to alienate the princess before she'd even gotten a chance to know her, much less do her duty as a Parkinson and protect her.

The girl- Hermione- she reminded herself, grasped it gently. It made her feel like such a boy. Did girls really greet each other with such a masculine gesture in the muggle world? But then Hermione smiled at her genuinely and bowed her head. While they had obviously been raised very differently, at least she wouldn't have to teach the girl to be genteel, it seemed to come naturally to her despite her muggle upbringing.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. I really am sorry for running into you, I'm not usually so careless."

"Hermione, have you seen him?" called a voice, and Pansy turned to see a pudgy blond boy approaching.

"I'm sorry, Neville, I haven't". She looked towards Pansy, "but this is Pansy Parkinson. I'm sorry to say she hasn't seen him either."

She knew he wouldn't be impressed by her last name, but she hadn't been prepared for the way the boy actually shrank back from her in fear. Pansy cringed at the look on Hermione's face at his reaction, made her excuses, and quickly retreated back towards the end of the train to rejoin Draco and to regroup, already mentally writing a letter to her parents about who she'd met. There was plenty of time to make friends with the lost princess, Hermione. Prepare her for the responsibility of being magical Royalty. They were only first years. What could possibly happen?

Hermione was slightly disappointed. For some odd reason she felt like she'd connected with that Pansy girl, despite the fact that she'd quite literally run into her, but then she'd rushed off at the very sight of Neville. And she had appeared to be exactly the sort of person that Hermione wanted to befriend. She heaved a sigh of defeat, told Neville she'd keep looking and carried on, throwing open the door to the next compartment. A dark haired boy and and redhead were inside.

She sighed again, because these boys on the other hand, seemed exactly the sort she wanted to avoid. But then she noticed the scar on the raven haired boy's forehead and struggled to contain her reaction. Why was Harry Potter, the savior of them all, walking around dressed like he'd been living on the streets? And his companion was little better. His clothes fit but he actually had dirt on his face and he was gaping at her in the most unbecoming manner. Nevertheless, she moved into the compartment.

They were not particularly good company. The redhead, Ron, was rather rude and he seemed to be confused about magic. He had actually believed that a few words in English with no discernable wand movement could change the color of his rat. And Harry, well he had no idea who he was. All in all it was disappointing, and they hadn't seen Trevor either, so she quickly moved on.

She spent the rest of the ride in various compartments meeting as many people as she could. They never did find Trevor. When they reached Hogsmeade she followed the giant man along with the other first years and they boarded a series of small boats to complete the trip to Hogwarts. When she caught a glimpse of the castle for the first time her breath caught in her throat and she would have sworn that her heart skipped a beat. It was wonderous, she couldn't wait to write her great-grandmama and tell her all about it. She was finally where she belonged.

She was approaching the steps that led up from the boathouse to Hogwarts great entrance when she caught a glimpse of blond hair. Not regular blond hair, but a shade she had only ever seen in pictures. Pictures of the Malfoy family that her trusty owls had brought to her. She had spent enough time studying them to know a Malfoy on sight. She didn't know what he was saying to the clueless boy following behind him, but she tried to concentrate on her own self-appointed tasks as she climbed the steps of the castle. And then she got her first, up close glimpse of the boy she'd promised herself would be her's. He strutted and he smirked and he looked down his nose at everyone in sight. That was no surprise. But he was beautiful, and she felt immediately drawn to him, and when he looked up and caught her eye she knew that he felt the same way. He was perfect. She had to stop herself from marching up to him and inserting herself at his side, project be damned. She tore her eyes away and swallowed.

She tried not to faint when Professor McGonagall led them into the great hall and she saw, for the first time in her life, what magic truly looked like. Even the small amount of magic she'd witnessed in Diagon Alley paled in comparison to the magic around her. Of course, she'd devoured any and all the books her parents had allowed her to purchase on their trip there. She knew that the ceiling above her was enchanted to look like the night sky, yet there was something breathtaking about seeing it in person. She hadn't realised she'd been thinking out loud until she heard students behind her snickering. She didn't deign to look at them though. People, wizards and muggles alike, were all the same, and she'd long ago learned that letting them get under her skin wouldn't change anything.

The first years gathered at the foot of the steps where McGonagall stood beside a rickety old stool and an even older looking hat. She eyed it warily. That was the infamous Sorting Hat? She'd been expecting something grander, since everything she'd read had referred to it as one of the most magical items to exist in their world.

She did her best to ignore the hat as it sorted the few students before her. She tried not to worry or let it color her opinion, but she would never forget the first thing that it said to her.

"You, Hermione Granger, would make an excellent Slytherin." Hermione gripped the edge of the stool, her eyes widening in both surprise and fear, as the voice, the hat, continued, "and if you can persuade me that you do not in fact belong there...well you may just do more to convince me that you do." Hermione eyed the student body in front of her, all of them watching, whispering to each other, as she continued to sit there.

I'm a muggleborn she thought, I'll be a social pariah. The hat only grunted, not satisfied by her plea. It'll ruin my plans she thought desperately, the thought unbidden, even as her eyes sought out Draco Malfoy in the crowd of first years watching.

The hat actually snorted, "yes. I see everything to do with your pretty little project here in your head. Smart. Quite brave of you really," it drawled and Hermione was sure if she could see it's expression it would be smirking. "You're very manipulative. Sneaky." She closed her eyes and knew her knuckles were turning white from the grip she had on the stool. "No?" it pondered. "Well I can see there's no changing your mind girl. You'll regret this," it warned. "Gryffindors are incredibly rash and instinctive. It'll make your plans incredibly difficult?" Hermione's head nodded slightly and the hat sighed, "If you're sure?"

Please she thought, two fingers of her left hand loosening and crossing as she awaited it's decision with bated breath.

"GRYFFINDOR" it shouted and Hermione released the breath she'd been holding and practically sprinted to the red and gold table that represented her house, her new home. She smiled demurely, dipping her head as the table cheered for her and looked up to see most of the first years still looking at her. The girl she'd run into earlier on the train, Pansy, was rubbing her eyes and seemingly murmuring under her breath. The boy who lived, Harry, nodded his congratulations to her. And Malfoy? Malfoy was glaring at her. Hermione lifted the cup in front of her and smirked into it. Less than a day and she'd already managed to capture his attention.