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08. 20. 91

Madame Gorotsky was unrepentant with Hermione as her lessons drew closer to the end of August. The ballerina made her repeat routines on end, making her memorize every step so she could be able to practice at Hogwarts. At the end of every day, Hermione found herself aching in places she never knew could ache, her feet were always sore from her pointe shoes and hours of dancing that she had to ice them in the evening.

Sir McAllen did not hesitate to push her either, just as stern as the Russian teacher, her oversaw her progress with the piano every morning, insisting that she redo the entire piece if she was ever even a fraction of a second of beat.

The only teacher she had that was lenient with her was Miss Maury, who had never pushed her in her life. The sweet middle aged woman allowed her to sit and paint in the afternoon, as much or as little as she wanted. And if paining wasn't her fancy that day, they would move to another medium. Hermione adored her teacher for the mere fact that her art lessons were the only ones that hadn't changed and hadn't needed changing.

Hermione knew that her father, under strict instructions from her late grandfather, who had brought her up under the impression that she would one day marry Prince William, had arranged with the Hogwarts headmaster a room to be prepared for her so that she could practice in private. She already knew where it would be, an old unused classroom that hidden behind a tapestry. Her father had sent more than sufficient funds for its renovation, and she knew that the large classroom held a small dance studio, a grand piano, and an arts studio.

She was diligent enough and so set in her ways that she was relieved that her schedule would not be changing so much. Besides classes, she was free to do whatever she wanted in her studio. She had already made a planner to map out which days would be spent for which.

Both her ballet and piano instructors expected her to come home from her 'super elite boarding school in Switzerland' with a complete recital ready for them.

Hermione hissed as she dipped her toes into the ice water, all the while wondering if she should do a piece from Swan Lake or The Nutcracker when she returned.

09. 01. 91

She never imagined saying goodbye would be easy, but neither did she expect her father and mother to tear up as she hugged them farewell. Max was cradled in her other's arms, and Melissa was throwing a tantrum over her leaving. George and Catherine were waiting at their parents' sides with matching sad smiles on their faces.

Her father crouched down so he was level with her, "I hope you love it there, my darling." he choked out, "I wish I could experience this life with you."

Hermione smiled, knowing her father beat himself up over her to no end. "I know, Father." she said softly, "I don't blame you for anything, you know."

The man chuckled, but nodded nonetheless, "I know you'll do well, my darling."

She grinned brightly in affirmation. "I'm going to miss you all so much."

"We're going to miss you too, little love." her mother sobbed.

"I'll be back before you know it." she smiled, before taking the Ministry of Magic provided Auror to take her to King's Cross. "I'm ready, Auror Jenkins."

Hermione held on to the man's hand tightly as she had been instructed, while she clutched the handle of her trunk with the other. The odd sensation of a tightening in her chest overcame her, and it felt as if her very lungs were constricting inside her. Almost as quick as a blink, the sensation ebbed, and the pair were standing on a busy platform, surrounded by people, more than Hermione had ever seen in one place all her life.

"Are you alright, my Lady?" the Auror asked, he had informed them that he himself was Muggleborn, and was honored to be trusted with her secret.

"None of that now, Auror Jenkins." she said, after catching her breath and smoothing down her hair, which had been mercilessly tamed into ringlets that morning. "You may call me Hermione."

"Of course, my - I mean, Miss Hermione." he sputtered, still a bit off put by the young girl's soft, but formal way of speaking. "The entrance to the train is right this way, Miss. May I take your trunk?"

Hermione nodded and smiled in thanks and followed the man as he led her towards one of the open doors. She supposed she was early, there was not as much people as she thought there would be. Auror Jenkins stowed her bags once they had found an empty carriage and helped her inside.

"Thank you, Auror Jenkins, for all your help." she smiled.

"Not a problem, Miss Hermione." he grinned toothily, "Have a nice year at Hogwarts, now."

"I hope I do." she quipped, "Until next time, sir. Please do keep safe."

When the man was finally out of sight, Hermione let out a shaky breath, setting a hand to her chest to try and calm its rapid rise and fall. Her fingers reflexively tangled themselves onto the chain of her locket, the one her father had given her just the night before. It was a golden oval shaped pendant with an ornate Coronet of a Duke engrave on the front - discreet enough to be passed as a pretty trinket.

She finally caught her breath and settled down, watching the students pass by in front of her carriage. Several of them were wearing scarves or pins that depicted their Hogwarts houses, which she had read about in Hogwarts: A History. A pair of red headed boys passed by, jumping on another boy to scare him from behind. She held back a chuckle at their shenanigans and self consciously smoothed down her robes for the sixth time in a row.

A smile edged onto her face as she toyed with the fabric. Her mother had gone a little overboard once she found out about common witchwear. Most of her wardrobe was composed of silks and satins, and a handful winter robes for when the season changed. Just this morning, she had commented on the black and silver accented cashmere robe set that Hermione had chosen for the day. It was something Hermione loved to share with her mother, and they had spent the past week bouncing ideas off one another about fabrics and cuts in their free time. It practically drove her father mad.

"Excuse me, are you alone?"

Hermione startled at the sound, and blinked away from her thoughts to find that someone had slid her compartment door open. It was a pale skinned boy who looked her age, with strikingly silver hair and piercing grey eyes, like her, he was dressed head to toe in black. She noted that unlike the other students she'd seen that day, who had all looked rather casual in jeans and sweaters, this boy was dressed in a suit.

"I am, yes." she said, tipping her head politely, "Would you like a seat?"

"Thank you," he nodded, "I do have a carriage of my own, but I was alone too."

"You're welcome to stay here." she offered, struggling a bit on how to converse with this boy. She noticed a second later that he seemed almost as awkward as she did. He was sitting just as straight as her, hands set properly on his lap, feet the right measure away from her.

"My name is Hermione." she said after a moment.

"I'm Draco." he said.

"After the constellation?" she asked inquisitively, unable to stop herself from asking.

His eyes brightened for a moment, "You know astronomy?"

"Yes, I do," she nodded, "I've studied it quite extensively. When I was younger, my grandfather had me look at the stars until I could tell him what constellation they're from and the mythology behind it, if there was any."

The boy nodded in understanding, "My mother wanted me to learn about them as well. Her whole family has a tradition of naming their children after stars or constellations. Hers was the only name in generations not to."

"Her whole family?" she echoed, "There are only so many stars in the sky. And a few of them have quite horrid names.

Her eyes widened when she realized what she'd said, "Not to pose any offense to your family of course!"

He only chuckled, "It's alright. There have been a few unfortunate names and a few more repeats. I have a great uncle named Betelgeuse and there have been three Siriuses already."

Hermione giggled, "That's so interesting. My father named me after a character of Greek mythology."

"Hermione, daughter of Helen?" he guessed, with a grin.

"I didn't expect you to know." she said smiling.

"Just as I did not expect you to know my constellation." he said, "So, are you a first year?"

"Yes, are you?"

He nodded, "I'm going to be in Slytherin. My entire family has been in Slytherin ever since I can remember. Do you know where you're going to be Sorted?"

"Well, I can't really know for sure, can I? My parents aren't magical, so I don't really know - why are you standing up?" the boy in question had hastily jumped out of his seat, his eyes were wide in shock.

"You're muggleborn?" he said, in disbelief.

"Yes, but what does that have to do with-"

Once again, she was cut off abruptly, "You're dirty." he spat venomously.

Her brows rose in surprise, "I beg your pardon?" she asked, horrified by his sudden shift in personality.

"I can't believe I wasted my time here." he sneered, "And here I thought you were alright. Turns out you're nothing but muggle filth."

He swiped the glass door open and shut loudly, leaving her at a loss for words.

What in the world had just happened?

She had been sitting on one of the boats the large man had led them to for a few minutes, admiring the castle, which, although did not seem as grand as Alnwick, had it's own charm that seemed to draw her in, when two girls, who looked to be twins, approached her.

"Hello, are you alone? May we sit with you?" one of them asked with a bright smile.

Hermione, shy and unsure merely nodded her head shyly.

"I'm Parvati Patil, and this is Padma, my twin sister." the girl said. Her twin smiled at her softly.

"I'm Hermione Granger." she said stiffly, still a bit shell-shocked by what had happened on the train.

"Are you alright?" Parvati asked, noting Hermione's gloom and the stiffness of her posture.

"I-"

"Excuse me, but do you have an extra seat?" a bubbly voice chirped, drawing their attention to the girl standing on the dock. Her straw colored hair was tied in short pigtails and she had a smattering of freckles on her face that only added to her bubbly appearance.

Hermione scooted over, "Oh please, do sit down." she said.

"Thanks." the girl sighed in relief, "I'm Hannah, by the way."

"I'm Parvati, this is Padma, and this is Hermione." piped in the girl.

"Nice to meet you!" the blonde grinned.

"Hermione was just telling us why she looks so glum." Parvati informed, much to her embarrassment, "Which you shouldn't be, you know, it's your first day at Hogwarts!"

"I know," Hermione admitted, "I was quite ecstatic about being here when I was on the train but -"

"But?" Parvati prodded. Hermione spied Padma nudging her sister, as if she herself was used to Parvati's exuberance.

"Well, is there any reason for a wizard to look down on someone for being Muggleborn?" she asked, a frown etched onto her face.

The three other girls exchanged knowing looks of discomfort, "Why'd you say that, Hermione?" asked Padma.

"There this boy on the train who I was having a conversation with but when he found out my parents were muggles, he became so horrid to me."

Hannah sighed, "I'm afraid that's commonplace for certain wizards."

"Not all of use think that way though!" Parvati said forcefully, "Only the really dark families still believe in that. Things like that haven't really mattered since the war."

"The war?" she asked. She wished she had had the time to read the entire History textbook beforehand, it was the only one she hadn't finished reading.

"Itt was lead by someone called Lord Voldemort." said Padma, shuddering at the name, "He was trying to create a world without muggles. He saw them as inferior and thought muggleborns stole their magic from purebloods - that's people who have two magical parent. Our dad says they were all just a bunch of curse-happy zealots."

"That's horrible," Hermione said, "to even suggest that muggles are lesser just because the don't have magic. And if what they're saying is true, how could I have stolen my magic? I've had it ever since I was a baby."

"That's why no one believes it these days." said Hannah, "Voldemort is dead and most of his followers are too, or in Azkaban, or had enough money to bail themselves out. But there aren't many people who think like that anymore."

Hermione sighed just as the boat came to a stop. Padma smiled at her and offered a hand to help her up.

"Don't mind it, Hermione." she said softly, "That boy was just a bully. We're your friends now."

At those words, the young girl perked up immediately. Friends. She had friends.

Hermione stood next to Padma as the entire first year class was herded into the Entrance Hall by Professor McGonagall, a stern looking with with a severe bun on top of her head.

"That's the boy who was mean to me." Hermione said in a whisper to Padma, who leaned over to spy a glance.

Immediately, her nose crinkled up like she had smelled something horrid, "That's Malfoy." she whispered, "His family's one of the worst there are."

Hermione nodded, avoiding looking at him, choosing instead to focus on Professor McGonagall, who was talking about the Sorting. When the professor left to allow them to settle down, Hermione began smoothing down her school robes anxiously, she knew how the Sorting went, but it still didn't help settle the butterflies in her stomach. It took all her years of learning self-control and discipline not to scream and jump in surprise when about twenty ghosts streamed through the back wall.

She strained to hear what the fat ghost was saying to the students at the front of the group, but before she could hear a word, Professor McGonagall returned.

"Move along now," she said in a sharp voice, "The Sorting Ceremony is about to begin."

The ghosts all began floating away from the hall one by one.

"Now form a line," Professor McGonagall told them, "and follow me."

As soon as they passed through the great double doors and into the Great Hall, Hermione felt a breath catch in her throat. For all she loved Alnwick castle, Hogwarts' splendor outshone it by a mile. The Great Hall was lit by thousands of floating candles over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. She remembered something she had read and looked up to see a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars.

She quickly remembered herself, and placed her attention back to the professor, straightening her back as she did. Professor McGonagall had just set the Sorting Hat on top of a stool. The Hat itself was a sort of a let down, it was patched and frayed and extremely dirty that she worried that her hair might be ruined if she put it on. For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth - and the hat began to sing:

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve, and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffis are true

And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

if you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folk use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on!

Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands (though I have none)

For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

When the applause quieted after a minute, Professor McGonagall stepped forward, holding a long scroll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

Hermione smiled in encouragement as Hannah left their little group to hesitantly stumble out of the line to the front. She put on the hat, which comically fell right down over her eyes as she took a seat. A moments pause -

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat. The table to the right exploded in applause as Hannah scurried over to join them.

When "Finnegan, Seamus." was Sorted into Gryffindor almost instantaneously, Hermione was almost itching with anticipation.

"Granger, Hermione!" the professor announced.

Hermione took a small breath and stepped out of line. All her years of walking with heavy tomes on top of her head seemed to narrow down into that one moment as she walked towards the front. Her footfalls were practically silent as she took her seat, placing her hands lightly over her the other, and crossing her ankles. The hat was placed on her head and she waited.

"Why hello, my Lady," the hat said in a small voice in her ear. Hermione almost startled at the use of her title. "Don't you worry, the bird told me about you. Now … you have a good sense of loyalty about you … but no, you have trouble being open, don't you? Hmm, tempting, it seems as though all you want is … but no, I can't ignore such a great mind, and what talent! I think I know …

"RAVENCLAW!"

Hermione exhaled a breath she hadn't known she was holding and held her head high as McGonagall removed the hat from her head. The Ravenclaw table was still clapping for her as she approached. She awkwardly took her seat on the bench next to a yellow haired girl with a prefect's badge pinned to her robes.

"Hi, I'm Penelope Clearwater." the older girl smiled, "Welcome to Ravenclaw."

"Thank you." Hermione said softly, before drawing her attention back to the front of the Hall.

When Padma was sorted into Ravenclaw instead of Parvati, Hermione was ashamed that she was a bit relieved. She sensed Padma was the calmer one of the two twins, and she was still anxious about trying to be friendly. She grinned as the other girl sat next to her with a large smile on her face. The last of the students, "Zabini, Blaise" was sorted into ravenclaw, and the headmaster announced the start of the meal with a few odd words.

"Headmaster Dumbledore was the wizard who killed Voldemort." Padma whispered to her as they scooped food onto their plates.

"Is he very powerful?" Hermione asked, looking at the wizened headmaster.

Padma nodded vigorously, "One of the most powerful wizards in this century."

Hermione hummed in understanding, taking a bite of her mashed potatoes that she couldn't help but compare to Leopold's. She missed home already.

Thought of the castle reminded her that she would be resuming her practices the next day, immediately after classes. Her Ravenclaw schedule that Penelope had handed her said that Monday mornings were vacant for them until ten o'clock, when they would be starting Herbology. She already planned to wake up at dawn to get ready and sneak into her secret room by the statue of Rory the Reaper, which, was an odd image of a farmer holding overgrown sickle.

"Aren't you excited about Herbology tomorrow?" asked Padma.

"I'll tell you what's exciting," said the curly haired redhead in front of them, Hermione thought she had heard him say his name was Kevin. "Quidditch on Thursday."

Hermione frowned, she had read about the basics of the sport, but couldn't grasp why it was so popular. She couldn't even begin to imagine herself on a broom.

"I hate flying." Padma frowned. "Heights make me queasy."

Kevin tsked, "Every witch and wizard has to at least know how to fly."

"I never said I didn't know how." Padma bristled, "I just rather staying on the ground and cheering."

"I'm trying out for the Ravenclaw team as soon as I can." said a rather pompous sounding boy whose cherubic face was framed by gold waves.

Hermione raised a brow at Padma, who giggled at the girl's response.

a/n: The quick responses I've received have all been so lovely! I'm planning to keep this story short and sweet, so I'll probably be done by the end of December. Also, I forgot to ask in my last update, but what do you guys think about The Crimes of Grindelwald? Besides the whole McGonagall is a time traveller plot hole. I was so shocked that I completely ignored my date for the rest of the day because I was trying to wrap my mind around it. It also may have given me an idea for a Hermione x Newt story that I have in the making.