a/n: Hello my dearies, so right about now would be a good time to mention that some of this story will be told in a series of flashbacks. This will be the first of several and for this reason its a little longer. I hope you're not too bored with it, but if you are just hang in tight, the saucy stuff is coming soon, I promise!

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Ever since they were little, Hermione had known that Malfoy hated her. Back then she couldn't exactly comprehend why, but she knew it, and felt it, every-time his eyes landed on her, leaning away and curling his lip as if she smelled of something rotten.

They had just been little kids, but even then the depth of his hatred had been deep, and to this day it still had a lasting impact on her.

She'd never been able to forget the first time she heard that word, tumbling out of his mouth with so much force, so much conviction: "No one asked your opinion, you filthy little mudblood."

It had been so strange and grotesque, to see this beautiful, boyish face crumple with disgust and spit out such a vile thing at her. Because it had been vile, truly vile. Even if she hadn't exactly understood it, she knew whatever it was had been atrocious; something he had meant to cut her with, to slice her in half, to make her feel as if she were nothing.

In the moment perhaps a secret part of her even knew, knew what he meant about her, and about her blood. But still, she had nervously asked Ron to explain it to her afterwards, pleading with him to say it even though she could probably guess, because for some reason, it would be better to just know. And when he had told her, his face going all pink and his eyes cast down, it felt as if her heart and fallen out of her chest.

She knew Malfoy didn't like her, but could this really be the source of his hatred?

It had made her nauseous to think about. To think that he as well as a decent amount of the wizarding world thought of her like that; with mud flowing through her veins.

It was the first time she was faced with a truth that no one had bothered to tell her, a truth she had only gathered a vague understanding of through all of her extensive readings and studies:

Part of this magical world that she had been inducted to, that gave her a new sense of awe and appreciation for herself in ways she never could have imagined, a significant part of this world, hated her blindly. Part of this world wanted to hurt her, to kill her, even though she was just a naive girl of 11, and it was all because of her blood. It was a strange concept to adapt to as a child, and not one she had expected in the slightest.

Although, Malfoy's hatred hadn't exactly been immediate, and secretly she held this over his head every time he taunted her, using it as a way to buffer his harsh words, even if it had happened all those years ago, when they were so young.

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It was the first day of school, the first day at Hogwarts, and Hermione could tell she wasn't the only one both excited and nervous to get a good look at the castle. She had read a lot about the entry process, so she wasn't going in blindly like some of the other students, many of whom spoke as if they hadn't done any research at all.

When other first years would wonder out-loud what the castle grounds could look like, and how certain enchantments were put into place, Hermione would take the opportunity to pipe in, enthusiastically answering their questions and introducing herself as an afterthought.

But at one point or the other, each of these interactions quickly turned sour. And, if she bothered to admit it, it may have been because she was trying a bit too hard to prove herself.

She just couldn't help it though; early on into her journey she came to realize that there was a significant rift between her and the majority of her schoolmates.

What she believed to be the source of it, based off of her quiet observations and at times flat out eaves-dropping; was that most students had at least one magical parent, and therefore had been aware of the wizarding world their entire lives.

Hermione hadn't even known that anything like this existed until a couple months ago, and for all the studying she had done this left her at a severe social disadvantage.

It was evident in the way the others spoke that there was some sort of cultural divide, and it came in the form of slight nuances that fueled their quips and conversations, as well as other more obvious references to things Hermione knew nothing about.

Each conversation she listened in on left her with an enormous amount of questions. For instance, who were the Holyhead Harpies? And what exactly were Chudley Cannons?

She felt stupid for not knowing. She had tried so hard to know everything she could, secretly staying awake past her bedtime every night since she had gotten her letter, reading as much as possible, just so she could know.

It was her personal nightmare come to life; being hopelessly unable to understand something that was blatantly crucial, and she couldn't help but feel affronted by her own insecurities because of it.

This anxiety manifested in an overly confident attitude that only she knew was a defensive pretense. And it didn't help that over and over again she was rejected by her peers. As Hermione walked through the train cars, trying to incite casual conversations, the other students would quickly become disinterested, and eventually work in an excuse as to why she couldn't sit with them.

So as she made her way through the excessively long train which she knew was about to depart, she grew increasingly nervous, glancing from side to side through her bushy hair and hoping that one of the compartments would be empty.

Not a single one was, and at this point most people had already settled in and closed their doors. Her anxiety began to spike, and she walked forward with a sort of strained hurry, until she heard a boy's voice rising in a high octave, coming from the end of the train car.

"Oh no, Gran'll kill me!"

"I don't think she'll do that Neville, she's not particularly violent." Said a second voice, a girl speaking now.

Hermione crept closer.

"But this is the fifth time i've lost him already, and I've only had him for about a week!"

With a few more steps she could see who was speaking; a small brown haired boy who was looking extremely panic stricken.

"He must be somewhere on the train, I'll bet we can find him if we ask people to look-"

Hermione's foot forced a creek in the floor, and the boy turned his head in surprise, seeing her looming in the doorway.

She blushed a little, but stepped forward. "Sorry I've just overheard you as I was going by, have you lost something? I could try and help you find it if you like."

The second speaker leaned forward, and Hermione offered her a small smile too, taking in her strange appearance. She had long stark white hair, and was wearing earrings that were made out of some kind of red and green plant with twisting roots.

"Would you really?" Said the boy, looking slightly relieved, though still as if he were fighting back tears.

Hermione nodded: "Of course."

Then she held out her hand. "I'm Hermione Granger. Whats your name?"

He took it shyly: "Neville Longbottom."

She turned and offered her hand to the peculiar blonde, who was still seated. The other girl held it and sort of squeezed it affectionately, rather than shaking it. Then, in a dreamy voice she said:

"I'm Luna Lovegood. You know, you've got such lovely ears, I think if you used an extension charm you could pass for a real elf."

Hermione felt her cheeks grow pink and muttered: "Oh, um, thank you."

She retracted her hand a little awkwardly and then turned back to the boy called Neville.

"So, what is it you've lost?"

He looked up at her almost guiltily and said in a despairing voice, fiddling with his fingers:

"Its Trevor."

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Hermione was greatly relieved to be given a task, and took it upon herself to be absolutely thorough in her search for the toad. She went through each and every corridor, looking up and down and knocking on doors, asking if people had seen it.

She got quite a few cold shoulders, and even when she had gotten past the third car, she saw no sign of Trevor. But she was determined to help Neville, and kept searching.

When she came to the first compartment of the fourth train car, she squared her shoulders, and prepared to knock on the door. However, to her surprise it was open, so instead she approached it confidently and leaned in, assessing the small space and the two boys within it.

"Has anyone seen a toad? A boy named Nevilles lost one."

She glanced between them, registering their uncertainty. One was was a gangly redheaded boy who looked to be about her age, with a generous spattering of freckles all over his nose and cheekbones. The other was a smaller, dark haired boy, with grubby clothes and broken glasses.

The taller one spoke up first, giving her a confused stare and a slight shake of his head: "No?"

Then, she noticed his wand, raised in his hand, and she couldn't stop herself from asking.

"Oh are you doing magic? Lets see then."

After a silly performance on a rat Hermione hadn't even noticed sitting on the boys lap, she couldn't help but voice her opinions on the ineffectual charm.

"Are you sure that's a real spell? Well, it's not very good, is it. Of course, I've only tried a few simple ones myself, but they've all worked for me."

She felt the need to demonstrate, eyeing the broken bridge of those round glasses as she sat across the quieter of the two boys.

"For example: Oculus Reparo."

She swished her wand and with a little whizzing sound the eye glasses repaired themselves. She smiled, proud of her own handiwork, as he slowly removed them from his face, staring at them in shock.

Then her gaze trailed upwards, and she caught a glimpse a peculiar scar on his forehead, barely noticeable under the dark, unruly bangs.

She let out a little gasp.

"Holy cricket, you're Harry Potter!"

Then added: "I'm Hermione Granger."

She turned to the other boy. "And, you are?"

"Um" he replied through a mouthful of food, "Ron Weasley"

She eyed him and gave a small smirk.

"Pleasure."

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And thats how she had met them. Ron and Harry. It was so innocent, so pure, and she would forever cherish the memory. She thought about it often, especially after they had first been separated, and it still made her laugh to think how Harry had barely said a word, how he had been so flustered by her. He had come across so shy, so sweet and quiet. Thinking about them like that, young and untouched by the cruel parts of their world, made her heart clench.

But no matter how different her reality was now, no matter how much she feared for the lives of those two little boys, that first memory, that beautiful fleeting memory, couldn't be tainted.

Not even by the fact that moments later, by some ironic twist of fate, she had also first met Draco Malfoy.

Hermione was just leaving Harry and Ron's compartment, a little dazed after meeting the boy who she had read so much about, before she was quickly forced to refocus.

At the very opposite end of the hallway, another door was open, and several boys were crowded around something, snickering about whatever it was.

Immediately she began to stalk towards them, trying to get a look at what exactly was on the ground. When she came close enough, they noticed her, and as they turned, she saw it for herself.

"Aha!" She said as her eyes landed on the toad, running over and bending down at the crowd of feet, scooping him up in her hands before looking back up at the boys.

"What do you think your playing at?" The one closest to her said angrily. She noticed then that he had his wand out.

She tucked Trevor defensively to her side and shot him a glare. "I should be asking you that, I know for a fact that this isn't your toad. Now I suggest you go back to your compartment, we'll all be arriving at Hogwarts soon."

With that she turned her nose up and spun on her heel, but the boy whose wand was out caught her by her arm before she could even take a full step.

She turned back to him, surprised.

"Give it back." He said, his brow furrowed in an ugly manner.

She scoffed and shrugged her arm out from his grasp. "As convincing as that may be I think I'll keep it thanks."

The boy seemed to back down then, but Hermione was too distracted to notice. From the corner of her eye she had seen something flicker behind him, and she was leaning her head to get a better look at it.

Behind the doorway of the next train car, she could clearly see another boy's face through the thin glass.

He had a shock of white-blonde hair, even whiter than Luna's perhaps, and surprisingly refined, delicate features. What was more alarming though were his eyes; a cold and striking blue, lighting up like the silvery glint of a dagger as he leaned in from the seat of his open compartment, looking straight at her, and laughing, open mouthed, and laughing.

She felt a blush rise to her cheeks as she stared at him for a moment more, before turning around again and stomping out of the hallway.

She stormed through the next train car, and then the next, breathing agitatedly as she went. She ought to have been able to enjoy her small victory of finding the toad, but instead she was thinking of that boys pale face, laughing at her through the glass.

What an annoying git, whoever he was.

Just why had he been laughing? Somehow, his reaction had been worse than the dull anger of the first boy; she couldn't quite place it but it had felt different, incredibly insulting. She tried to brush it off, but even by the time she had gotten back to Neville's compartment, it was still replaying in her mind.

She gave him back the toad and he had thanked her profusely, then offered to let her sit with them.

She had agreed, but less than five minutes after she had sat down the train was coming to a halt. She let out a heavy sigh of disappointment, despite the growing excitement of her peers, the majority of whom were filtering out of their compartments.

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After stepping out of the train and into the night, the first years were lead to a large lake that was lined with a row of little boats, each equipped with lanterns at their helm.

Hermione wasn't entirely surprised. She had read about them of course, in Hogwarts, A History; but still, the image of the pitch dark water lapping against them, somehow not disturbing them into movement, was something that couldn't be translated with words.

What could have been eerie was enticing, inviting; it felt like they were being lead to a secret realm that they alone had been chosen for. She began to feel her stress subside as she looked at them, but all too quickly it was cut short as the rather large man who called himself 'The Keeper of Keys' began to section people off into the boats.

Hermione felt the other students shuffle around her, sticking close to their friends in the hopes of being seated with them. She glanced nervously over to Luna and Neville, who were also standing awkwardly still, waiting to be assigned their group.

To her grave disappointment, the man directed them to a boat with a couple other students that Hermione didn't recognize. The two of them glanced over to her sheepishly before walking away, leaving her to nervously fidget in their absence.

Then he made a motion with his hands, indicating to her and a few other people she hadn't noticed, who were standing a little ways behind her.

"Alright you lot, down to that boat near the end there."

She turned to look at her would be companions and froze in place.

It was that same boy, the one who had been laughing at her.

Great.

She balled her fists defiantly and abruptly turned away, stalking towards their boat.

Just marvelous really. Out of all the people. How could she have this many mishaps on her first day? Surely something should go well for her at some point.

She plopped down into the wooden frame and crossed her arms. The second she sat the lantern on her boat burst to life and she stared up at in in surprise, forgetting for a moment to be upset.

The other three were starting to climb in now, the two boys she didn't recognize taking the back seat, and the blonde one jumping in and sliding next to her.

She lifter her head up high and scooted as far away from him as she could within the limited space of the boat. She felt him glance in her direction, but ignored it, staring out into the water's depths.

As soon as the last person was seated, the boats began to surge forward seamlessly, and sounds of shock and awe lifted from the students.

Hermione wanted to enjoy it too, but she couldn't help but find herself tense and nervous next to the strange boy, who was now openly staring at her.

She turned to glare at him, not bothering to hide her dislike.

His fair brows lifted in surprise. "Well aren't you lovely. I suppose I won't bother introducing myself then."

She sniffed and turned her head back to the water. "No, I'd prefer if you didn't."

He scoffed and looked away from her. A moment past where they were both quiet, and Hermione began to focus on the twinkling lights in the lake and the soft murmurs of the two boys behind them.

Then she felt him shift in his seat, turning to speak to her again:

"Mind telling me what it is I've done?"

She lifted her head to look back at him, annoyed that he had interrupted her fleeting moment of peace.

"I think you should already know that." She said, her brow furrowing in anger.

"Alright, well I don't."

She looked him up and down; he seemed oddly sincere, and her anger turned to confusion.

"You- you were laughing at me. Through the window, when I found that boy's toad."

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "No I wasn't."

"Yes you were." She said incredulously: "I saw you!"

He shook his head, his lips turned up into an almost teasing smile. "No, I wasn't laughing at you, I was laughing at Flint, that stupid prat you told off."

She paused at this, thought for a moment, then blushed, not entirely convinced but a little embarrassed now.

"Oh, um, were you really? But you were looking straight at me."

In the warm glow of the lamplight, she couldn't tell if she imagined it, or if there was the slightest stain of pink rising to his cheeks too.

"Yes well, I had never seen you before, and its not everyday that Marcus Flint gets bested by a girl."

Hermione rolled her eyes at the assumption, and let out an other scoff: "Right."

His smile reappeared. "I can tell I've offended you again. Sorry about that."

He stuck his hand out firmly in front of her. "Let's start over. Im Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

She couldn't help but feel slightly amused by his confidence. Maybe it had been a misunderstanding.

She took hold of his hand and shook it lightly, still a little reserved.

Perhaps it was because he had said his name with such emphasis, as if it had some great importance, that she omitted half of her own, simply responding with: "Hermione."

After a second or so they let go of each-other. "Its nice to meet you, Hermione." He said.

She smiled and responded honestly: "It's nice to meet you too, I think."

He gave her a coy smirk in return and she looked away, unexpectedly feeling a little abashed. Luckily, it wasn't but a moment later when the castle came into view, lighting up the water and the sky in equal fervor.

A multitude of surprised gasps and animated voices rang out across the water, all of the first years impressed by the sight.

Both Hermione and Draco stared silently, unconsciously shifting forwards at the same time as they gazed up at it in awe. The stone structure seemed uniquely built up in a series of diverging formations, magically conformed to withstand an odd multitude of architectural anomalies. Yet, somehow in its entirety it seemed completely well grounded, and even managed to be quite beautiful.

All too soon the boat began to slow as they reached the waters edge, creeping closer to the enchanted fortress. Before they could depart, she glanced back over at Malfoy, and then quickly away again.

Once they stepped out onto the grounds, the groups quickly clustered to form a massed huddle, following the so called 'Keeper of Keys' to the looming entrance of the castle. She looked once more at the strange boy, and found that he too was staring at her.

She turned away and began pacing towards the entrance, her cheeks burning.

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Once inside they were treated to a world of glistening lights, things that floated and glided, a myriad of excited, friendly faces, and an extensive feast that made Hermione's stomach twist into knots.

It was almost overwhelmingly joyous, and then, abruptly, the initial thrill of their entry gave way to something else. After a speech given by Professor Dumbledore, which she thought was quite lovely, and a song the whole hall sang together, it was announced that they would move on to the sorting.

She tried to swallow down her anxiety as she watched them bring out the large tattered hat, but as Professor McGonagall began to call the first few names on her list, it became nearly impossible to fight the growing feeling.

When Hermione's own name was uttered in complete clarity, she stood slowly, her heart pounding as she tried to ready herself.

"Oh no, ok, relax." She breathed out, walking towards the seat directly underneath the sorting hat.

She felt its large circumference lower down onto her head, and then a moment later there was a funny sort of tingling sensation, and she could swear she could hear its voice in her mind, searching through her memories.

"Ahh, right then. Hmm, right. Ok, Gryffindor!"

She smiled in elation as the Gryffindor table erupted into applause, and then stood to make her way over to them. As she did she caught sight of a pair of horrified blue eyes, following her as she moved across the hall. When she met them she nearly tripped over an older Gryffindor girl.

Draco Malfoy looked disgusted, absolutely repulsed, his mouth slightly ajar in a disbelieving grimace as he blatantly stared at her.

She couldn't look away as she fumbled for an empty seat, not registering the claps on her back and congratulations she was receiving from the other students.

After a moment she tore her eyes from him and looked down at her empty plate, utterly confused and rather hurt. Every time she managed the courage to glance back up again, she found his eyes piercing through her from across the great hall, relentless, and unabashedly hateful.

It took his own name being called for him to snap his focus away from her, and when he sat on the chair, the hat barely grazed his head before it called out: "Slytherin!"

He smiled and rose, walking over to the jeering Slytherin tables, and not sparing her another glance, but looking slightly paler she thought, if it were at all possible.

As he sat, she heard the freckled boy she had met earlier, Ron Weasley if she remembered correctly, turning to whisper not so subtly into Harry Potter's ear:

"Figures. Theres not a witch or wizard that went bad who wasn't in Slytherin."

Hermione felt her throat clench as she met Draco's eyes once more, his face slowly settling into that same twisted repulsion as he took her in.

Perhaps Ron was right, she thought to herself.

Because whatever lingered in Draco Malfoy's gaze as they stared at each-other, it certainly wasn't good.