Disclaimer: I don't own anything of value. Don't sue.
Emily - I'm really glad you like it. Hope you like the next chapter, too.
Faerie Nuff - I'm really glad you like the idea. I tried to put more detail in this chapter. Hope you like the next chap.
animagus10 - Nope, it's not a oneshot. This chapters kind of like the last one except it shows everything from Draco's point of view, too. Hope you like it.
jalapeno1011 - I'm really glad you like it. Yeah, it would be really awful to be in Hermione's place in the story. Here's the next chap.
Lady Ghost Buster - I'm glad you liked the beginning. Here's the next chap.
When I was little I was even more of a troublemaker than I am now. I used to love to practice "negotiating" with the aurors outside our house and "helping" Dobby ruin the food in the kitchen. Dobby told me I was a "very bad boy" practically every day and then I'd watch him punish himself for it.
It's amazing how I lived in the manor my whole life and never saw our gardens until I was seven years old. It was only by chance I had found it, anyways. Winky had seen me sleeping under the maple tree and decided to leave me out there while she started to sew my mother a new blouse. I woke up and decided to see what was in our gardens.
In the beginning, I saw nothing of interest; a few garden elves here and there and some trees. Then I saw a little girl. She was about my age and had her hair braided into two long brown braids.
"Hi," She said happily, "Who are you?"
"Draco Malfoy." I said slowly.
She laughed, "Draco is a silly name."
I glared at her, "What's your name then?"
"Hermione." She said.
"Herminninninny?" I laughed, "That's a sillier name than mine."
"It's Hermione." She said, "But you can call me Mine instead. That's what all my friends call me." She paused for a second and then said, "Draco, do you want to play tag with me?"
"What's 'tag'?" I asked and with that, she had already started to explain the rules to me.
We played for hours and agreed we'd come there every day. It was great until she stopped coming.
I started to get worried and asked my mother if I had done anything to offend her.
"You were talking to a muggle?" She asked, "A muggle?"
"Mine's not a muggle!" I said. At the time, I didn't even know what a muggle was, but it sounded like a bad word and Mine was never bad.
My mother told me never to go to the garden ever again and never to talk to Mine. So I didn't talk to her. I wrote her a note and ordered Dobby to put it right next to our favorite swing.
My father found out and yelled and told me how fowl muggles are and I slowly began to forget about Mine. I never went to the garden again.