Author's Note: an edited and more up-to-date version of this story is available on Archive of Our Own. I recommend reading it there. You can find it by searing the same title and pen name. Thanks!
Flourish and Blotts
A few steps from the entrance of Flourish and Blotts, there's a display table full of Hogwarts-related books and standing opposite that table from Draco Malfoy is a dark-skinned girl with an enormous amount of hair. A Muggleborn. It's her humdrum outfit, jean shorts and a loose t-shirt, which gives her away.
Feeling rebellious, angry at his father for earlier denying him a Nimbus 2000, Draco makes a snap decision. He'll speak with this Muggleborn. And if he's lucky, Mother, who he's meant to meet at Flourish and Blotts, will catch him in the act. She'll scold him for not behaving as a pureblood ought to and then she'll report it all back to Father. And Father, Draco muses, will learn he can't refuse his only child, his heir, the latest racing broom without facing repercussions.
"You'll want to add Hogwarts: A History to your list," he says, closing the distance between himself and the girl.
"Sorry?"
" Hogwarts: A History. It's not required but I imagine it would be helpful for someone like you."
The girl's expression changes. She wears a mixture of surprise and offense but amusement too.
"What gave me away? I'd have guessed not wearing robes but you're not wearing them either."
It's true. Draco is not the head of his house nor is a trip to Diagon Alley considered a formal occasion, so his robes remain at home today. Still, if this girl is suggesting his perfectly tailored pants, tucked in button-down, or expensive dragonhide loafers are in any way similar to her outfit -
"Let me put it this way," he says. "Not even the Weasleys wear collarless shirts in public."
"I don't know the Weasleys. Obviously."
" Obviously . But anyone with a brain should be able to understand my meaning."
There's a beat of silence and the girl's expression changes again. "You see yourself as clever, don't you? Might even expect you'll be Head Boy one day?"
"I've got a better chance at being Head Boy than you've got at being Head Girl. Of that, I am sure."
The girl scoffs, snatches up a copy of Hogwarts: A History , and thumbs through it until she finds the chapter index. Draco watches her for a moment and notices the way she holds the book with reverence.
"You enjoy reading?" he asks.
"My reading abilities match that of the average eleventh-year Muggle student which, I'll have you know, corresponds with sixth-year students at Hogwarts. Additionally, I've got an Intelligence Quotient of - Well, nevermind, I don't know what that would correspond with in the magical world anyway. My point is -"
Draco grins, amused by this girl. "I didn't ask if you could read," he interjects. "I asked if you enjoy it."
The girl glares at him. "Very much," she says hotly. "Now, if you'll excuse me." She turns and heads for the nearest aisle of books, leaving Hogwarts: A History behind.
Draco's instinct is to follow her but not because of his plan to make Father face repercussions. He's temporarily forgotten about that. Instead, he wants to gain answers, to make sense of this girl. She's the first Muggleborn he's spoken with and though their exchange was short, she seems different than what he's been taught to expect. Intelligent. Maybe even quick-witted.
But how can that be? Planning to find out, Draco takes a step in the girl's direction but a hand catches him on his shoulder. Mother has arrived at Flourish and Blotts. Too late for answers today. He'll have to wait until Hogwarts.
Hogwarts Express
On the first of September, several hours into their train ride, the door to Draco's compartment slides open. He and the group of boys he sits with, boys Father would approve of, take in the sight of that Muggleborn girl.
"Someone's lost their pet toad," she says. "Have any of you seen one?"
The boys shake their heads.
"A toad?" asks Vincent Crabbe. He looks at Draco as if to add, "Aren't you going to comment on the outdatedness of toads? Or on this girl's outfit?"
Because she's dressed as informally as before. But Draco says nothing. He's preoccupied, all his energy focused on wishing the girl away. Please, Merlin, before she says something embarrassing.
She spots him. "Oh, hello again."
Draco thinks of ignoring her but then what if that leads to something worse? What might she say next? He glances in her direction and nods once. Crabbe and the other boys raise their eyebrows.
"I bought that book you suggested afterall."
Faux innocence, is that her shtick? Able to read the situation perfectly and cause damage without using insults? She'll come to regret it. Guaranteed.
"Alright, I'd better keep looking," says the girl and she closes the compartment door and disappears.
As quickly as he can, Draco explains about the Nimbus 2000. To his immense relief, the boys nod along. They understand. They too were denied new brooms, their parents noting that first year students aren't allowed to have them at Hogwarts.
"It was stupid," Draco admits. "I shouldn't have let someone like her think she can talk to someone like me. I'll set her straight, though, don't worry."
There's more nodding from the boys and a murmur of assent too. Draco notices the boy he's known the longest, his neighbor Theodore Nott, is less enthusiastic about his assent than the others.
"What's her name?" asks Theo.
Draco's pondered that himself but it isn't until that night in the Great Hall that he finds out. A stern looking witch who earlier introduced herself as Professor McGonagall calls the first years to the Sorting Hat one at a time.
"Granger, Hermione."
The Muggleborn girl steps up. She's Sorted into Gryffindor.
Slytherin Common Room
Though he felt vengeful on the train and though he torments most of the Gryffindors in their year, Draco ignores Hermione Granger. He tells himself it's less of a choice and more of a natural consequence of her dullness.
Yes, that's right, Granger is dull. So he ignores her every time her hand shoots up in class. Every time she earns her House five more points. Every time she does some bit of magic flawlessly on the first try. Even after the incident with the troll on Halloween, after she's become Harry Potter's friend and the whole school, even sixth and seventh year students, know her name. He ignores her then too.
Draco ignores Granger almost completely for over a year. Then early in their second year at Hogwarts, she ruins what's meant to be a perfect encounter, the Slytherins showing off their Nimbus 2001s, and he can't ignore her any longer.
"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in," she taunts. "They got in on pure talent."
"No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood!"
There's an instant uproar from the Gryffindors, a loud bang, a jet of green light, and - and slugs ! Slugs falling out of Ron Weasley's mouth, half a dozen at a time! His wand backfired on him, the Slytherins realize. They double over with laughter and Draco laughs right along with them.
He stays up late in the common room, his nose in his Herbology book despite a current inability to retain a word.
"Want to talk about it?" asks Theo.
"About what?"
"What you said to Granger. What you called her."
Theo's hidden it well so far but Draco suspects he's a blood traitor. It's the little things that add up like his disinterest in House rivalries and his less-enthusiastic-murmur-of-assent during their first train ride to Hogwarts. Probably gets it from his mother's side of the family. Is this the moment then? Is Theo about to give himself away with a lecture on tolerance and inclusion or some such nonsense?
"You like her don't you?"
Draco bolts upright, his eyes darting around the room. They aren't alone. A pair of fifth-years scribbles essays in the far corner. Fortunately, though, neither seems to have heard Theo's disgusting accusation.
"Like her? I'd like to see her dead is more like it."
But then, in the pit of his stomach, something happens. The ache Draco's felt for hours, since calling Granger that word he realizes, it intensifies.
Oh no, what if Theo's right?
Draco's tried not to notice. He's been pretty good at not noticing, in fact. But he knows being around Granger impacts him in an unusual way. It leaves him feeling… What's the best word for it? Anxious? Willful? Undisciplined?
Yes, that's it. Undisciplined. Like he doesn't have control over himself. Like he's got to ignore Granger because the only alternative to ignoring her is spiraling out of control when she's around. It's an awful feeling. And it means Theo can't be right. Because how could Draco fancy someone who makes him feel so different than how he'd like?
"I don't think anyone else has noticed," Theo offers. "It's just that you insult Potter and Weasley constantly. Longbottom too. Anyone who's an easy target really, but not Granger. Not until today anyway. And now look at you, you're sulking."
"I am not sulking."
"You are sulking. You feel guilty. Which tells me -"
"I'm not sulking! I don't feel guilty! And I don't like Her-" Draco notices his raised voice, notices the fifth-years staring up from their essays. "I don't like her ," he finishes quietly.
With his school book in hand, Draco stomps off to his dormitory. He's done with this conversation. This ridiculous conversation, full of ridiculous notions! That he likes Hermione Granger. That Theo would know it before him. That he feels guilty and is now sulking. It's all so ridiculous!
Hospital Wing
In the spring, Granger joins the growing number of students who have been petrified. She lies utterly still on a bed in the hospital wing, her eyes open and glassy.
"Mr. Malfoy! You're not to travel through the castle without an escort," scolds Madam Pomfrey. "And visiting hours ended at ten!"
"I know and I'm sorry. But I wanted..."
Draco's not entirely sure what he wanted, though. Perhaps just to see Granger. To prove to himself she's only petrified, not dead.
"The Mandrakes will be ready soon?" he asks.
Madam Pompfrey's expression softens, if only a bit. "Any day now," she says. "But that doesn't mean it's safe for you to wander around alone. I'll have to send for your Head of House to escort you back to your dormitory."
Draco's panicked eyes flicker over Granger. "For Snape? No, please, could you... Could you get Professor McGonagall instead? That'd be alright, wouldn't it, since she's the Deputy Headmistress?"
Madam Pomfrey agrees and then Professor McGonagall is relentless on their walk to the dungeons. She hounds Draco about school rules, and safety, and obedience, and house points, and suspicious behavior, and -
"I wouldn't hurt her," Draco blurts out. "I'm not as bad as that."
