*Flashback: Hermione 16 years old*

After her parents funeral Hermione had moved into her aunts home in Wiltshire. Her aunt had brought flowers to her room every day, and commented everyday how they had mysteriously wilted so fast. Hermione knew the real reason was her gloomy mood was killing the things around her. After a week, terrified that she would start killing something other than plants she began taking walks through the countryside. On her first walk she released all her pent up emotions. In her anger she killed an entire field of wild flowers. Reveling in the destruction around her she turned her anger to a nearby tree, she watched in fascination as the leaves turned vibrant colors before falling to the ground. Exhausted she fell to the ground, crunching the leaves beneath her. As the anger left her, and her heart rate came down she was horrified at the destruction around her. It was then that she knew she had to do something. Attempting to control her emotions was not enough. If she could learn to do her magic on command, perhaps that would prevent her from losing control.

Walking to the edge of her destruction, she found a flower that had just wilted, but not died. Remembering her first burst of magic was as a little girl, impatient at waiting for her rose bush to bloom, she had caused big beautiful blooms to grow before her and her mother's eyes. That was before, when the accidents were innocent fun. Back when her parents could laugh and enjoy her special powers. Before they became wary of her and her strange powers, rightfully so. Trying to concentrate on those happy feelings she closed her eyes and willed the flow to bloom and grow. Upon opening her eyes and seeing no change, she walked back to her new home, full of remorse.

Her walks grew longer with each passing day. She felt safer away from people she could hurt. Try as she might she could not preform magic at will, she was able to cause random destruction if she let her anger take control. Not the result that would make her safe to be around.

After a few weeks of walking she found a nice spot that she enjoyed coming to. There was a tree on top of a hill that provided a nice view of the countryside. And so a routine was established, she would spent half the morning walking to this spot attempting to control her magic as she went, took some comfort there while reading, and then walked home in the late afternoon. The isolation kept her away from anyone during the day, and she was too exhausted at night to cause any harm.

A month after she began her self-isolation she was startled from her reading as someone came stomping through the bushes nearby. Startled she saw a boy with striking blond hair fight his was free from a bush and march his was across the field. He was obviously worse for wear, his hair and clothing in disarray and covered with dirt. He had a deep cut across his cheek, and his clothing torn. It was odd to see someone wearing so much black in the middle of summer and the style of dress was unlike anything she had ever seen. The most bizarre thing though, was the broken broomstick he was carrying. It did not look like it would do much good cleaning a floor, and appeared to have footholds attached.

As he drew closer he noticed her under the tree. "What are you doing here?" He demanded with a sneer, his eyes angry and dangerous.

Hermione knew she should be afraid, but found she could not bring herself to care. "Reading." She answered with a shrug, holding the book up for him to see. Her expression was blank and uncaring.

He gave her one last dark look before he continued on his way, muttering to himself.

A few days later she saw him again. This time his clothing was impeccable but very out of place for the middle of the countryside. His hair look windswept despite the calm day, and the cut on his cheek was completely gone, she noted in confusion. He was carrying a new broomstick, walked right up to her and again asked "What are you doing here?" His tone still rude, but lacked the venom from the previous day.

"Reading." She replied again.

"You can read anywhere, why do it in the middle of nowhere?" He pressed.

Hermione ignored his question for a while, reading another sentence in her book, before she answering, "Avoiding people."

"Me too." He said, sitting down next to her. He brushed her elbow as he sat. With his touch a spark of familiarity washed over Hermione. She could not place what was familiar but it comforted her even amidst the bizarre situation and so she let him sit without complaint.

"Two books today." He stated picking up the book beside her.

"I just finished that one." She explained.

"Les Misérables," he read. "Never heard of it. Sounds depressing." Looking up to see Hermione's baffled expression, he asked, "What?"

"You've never heard of Les Misérables? Have you been living under a rock your whole life?" She questioned.

He looked as if he were going to give a snide retort but then just shrugged; ignoring the stares from the girl beside him he began reading the book. Hermione continued her stare for a few moments before returning to her book. And so they sat, in an odd sort of companionship, the only sounds were the birds chirping as they flew by and the turning of pages.

The blond eventually broke the silence. "I have to get back for lunch. I missed it the other day and don't wish to have my mother send out a search party if I miss it again."

"You can keep the book if you like." Hermione offered.

"Ok, thanks." He said, standing up and starting back the way he came, broom in hand.

"I'm Hermione by the way."

He stopped and turned, "Draco."

"Draco huh? That's a different sort of name." Taking in his raised eyebrows she laughed and smiled for the first time since her parents died. "I guess I'm not one to talk."

With an amused smirk he continued his departure.

He was waiting under the tree when she arrived the next day.

"This book is ridiculous." He stated as she approached.

"Why?"

"Over 50 pages, 50, were spent developing the character of the bishop, who as far as I can tell is not a major character in the book! I'm never going to get the time I spent reading that back."

"I would consider him a major character" Hermione defended, "he changed the course of Jean Valjean's life. Besides, no one said you had to read it."

"I didn't say I wouldn't read it, I just want my complaint acknowledged."

"Duly noted." Hermione said with a nod and sat down. He had the broomstick again, and was that actually a picnic basket beside him, Hermione thought to herself. "I see you brought lunch today."

"Yeah, I had one of the…" he trailer off. "Yeah, I brought some food, there is enough for you. It didn't look like you had any food with you yesterday."

"I have a granola bar in my pocket." She informed him, opening her book. Once again they read in their odd sort of companionship.

Draco was the one to interrupted their reading, "I'm hungry; do you want to eat something?"

"Sure," Hermione said, marking her page and putting down her book.

Draco reached into his basket and handed her a glass bottle with a thick orange liquid in it. It was still cold Hermione noticed. Eyeing the drink for a bit she eventually twisted off the cap and took a sip. "Wow," she exclaimed, "This is really good, what is it?"

"You've never had pumpkin juice before?" He asked and with a nervous laugh continued, "Now who is the one living under a rock?"

"No, I'm pretty sure pumpkin juice is not a common thing." Hermione countered.

Draco made no reply, his face going blank. He handed her a selection of sandwiches and fruits on a small plate. Not a paper plate as she would have expected, but fine china. She glanced over at him as he continued to dig through his basket. He was an odd fellow that was certain. But Hermione always felt odd herself, and never very good at making friends. The few friends she had made as a child eventually turned away when accidents happened, accidents that always involved her. Eventually she stop making an effort at making friends, and not many wished to befriend the accident prone, bushy haired know it all. She decided not to comment on his unusually behavior, he was the closest thing she'd had to a friend in a long time.

"So are you enjoying the book?" She asked.

"The plot is very good, once he gets around to moving it forward. Fantine's life seems horrid." After taking a bite of his sandwich he asked, "What are you reading?"

"The Hobbit." His carefully schooled features told her he once again had no clue what she was talking about, so she filled him in. "It's about a hobbit named Bilbo Baggins going on a quest with a party of dwarves to reclaim the dwarves treasure from a dragon. I like fantasy novels, elves, dwarves, wizards and such." The magic contained in the books made her feel a little less alone in the world she added to herself.

"So you like wizards?" Draco said suggestively.

"Not in that manner." Hermione said with a snort. "Wizards are commonly portrayed as old men with long grey beards, not exactly attractive."

"But they had to be young once."

Not sure how to reply Hermione just gave a small laugh and continued eating.

Draco joined Hermione most days. Hermione was impressed by him, not only was he reading a difficult novel, but he was able to have intelligent conversations, and sometimes arguments about the book. Hermione felt silly when she thought it, but everything seemed nicer when he was around. The ground seemed softer to sit on, the breeze did not blow her hair into her face, the sun filtering through the tree gave just the right amount of light; it was almost as if the world around her was content with her.

"Javert kills himself." Draco exclaimed one day.

"Yes he does, it's actually quite sad that he finally sees his faults and the only way he is able to deal with it is by killing himself. He couldn't accept Jean Valjeans mercy and kindness because it didn't fit in with the black and white world he believed in. He couldn't reconcile the fact that Jean Valjean was both an escaped convict and a good person."

"Do you think you could come to accept and see the good in someone you were raised to hate?" Draco asked, staring off into the distance.

"I wasn't raised to hate anyone, and considering Javert was born inside a prison shows he wasn't raised to hate convicts the way he did. But I'd like to think that I would stand up for what was morally right."

"Even if doing so made you stand against your family."

Hermione thought for a while before answering, "Yes, I think I would."

Draco was quite the rest of the afternoon.

The next day Draco was much later than usual. When he did arrive he looked exhausted. His voice was hoarse when he greeted Hermione.

"Are you alright?" She asked.

"Yeah," he ground out as he sat, but then grimaced in pain while his body twitched violently.

"Oh my gosh, you are not alright, is there anything I can get for you?" Hermione asked her voice full of concern.

"No, nothing to do about it; I just need to wait it out until it gets better on its own."

"Ok, that's good, it would actually take me a couple of hours to get you something, but I would be happy to do it all the same."

"Thanks." Draco said wincing in pain as another wave of tremors overtook him.

"Come here," Hermione said, while pulling on Draco's arm.

"What are you doing?" He inquired, resisting her.

"If I can't do anything to stop the pain at least I can help to make you comfortable. Here lie down." Hermione said, patting her lap and motioning him to lie down. He did as she asked, body ridged. "Relax," she cajoled, rubbing his arm. He did, while closing his eyes.

"I lost your book." He admitted.

"That's alright, but it was your book, I gave it to you."

"Do you think you could tell me the rest of what happened?" Hermione did as he asked the discussions on what happened and the morals presented were more subdued than usual. As Hermione talked she began rubbing his arm to comfort him when he trembled, eventually leaving her hand there afterwards. By the time she was done reciting the rest of the novel her one arm was draped across his chest, the other was absentmindedly running her fingers through his hair. His pain seemed to be gone now.

"How is it you wear your hair slicked back, yet it still feels so soft?" She asked.

Looking up at her he replied, with a sly grin, "Magic."

Hermione rolled eyes, "It's getting late, I need to get going if I am to get back before it gets dark." She said as she noticed the sky start to change with the oncoming sunset.

Draco stood, offering his hand to Hermione to help her stand. After she was up, Draco kept a hold of her hand, causing her to look him in the eye. He was standing very close she noticed.

"I'm going to kiss you now." He whispered to her with an intense gaze.

She blushed, but held his gaze, "Ok," she replied in a small voice. He reached up and caressed her check and her eyes fluttered shut as he leaned down. His lips were soft and warm, the kiss was sweet, a perfect first kiss Hermione thought to herself. They smiled at each other when they broke the kiss.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Draco told her, and giving her another quick kiss, he turned to go. Hermione watched him go for a few moments, holding her fingers softly to her lips, a smile on her face. That day as she walked home she didn't feel the gloom that had filled her heart since her parents died. Pebbles levitated and then dropped back down as she passed. Concentrating on the energy she felt around her she focused it on a cobble in front of her, her excitement at watching it rise up before her almost rivaled that of her kiss with Draco. By the time she reached home, the light of the day completely gone, she could levitate small objects with ease and the pebbles around her stayed put, for the first time in her life she had managed to contain and focus her magic.