Cygnus: March 20th 1977Tom: May 18th 1977Hermione: June 5th 1980

Chapter 2: Heavy, Heavy, Heavy

1991

"Hermione…"

Narcissa reached down and gently shook her slumbering daughter, expecting a reaction, but it was to no avail. Beneath the rich fabric of sheets, the small outline of Hermione's body remained unmoved. The older witch sighed heavily and reached out again, "Hermione, you need to wake up."

When Hermione continued to not move, Narcissa crossed her arms across her chest. "We are going to Diagon Alley to buy your supplies. In one hour we are leaving with or without you."

She spun around on her heels and marched towards the large windows that lined Hermione's wall and with one heavy yank, the thick drapes pooled open. The sunlight violently lit up the room, chasing the remnant shadows of night into non existence, but it had no impact on the sleeping eleven year old.

Hermione simply burrowed herself deeper into her mountain of pillows and with another sigh of impatience, Narcissa stormed out of Hermione's chamber without a glance back.

The very moment the door closed, however, Hermione popped her head up and grinned towards the direction her mother had stormed off to. In all honesty, there was no doubt in her mind that her mother had already known she was awake. Hermione had always been an early riser, always had and would probably always would. It was just how she was.

But, she had been restless throughout the night. For the past three weeks, in fact. Time had dwindled down and now, there were only two days until she was due to start Hogwarts. Two days. She was a bottle of bubbled up emotions that were fizzling beyond control- fear, anxiety, and excitement- and they wracked through her body without forgiveness.

She had waited her entire life for her trip to Diagon Alley, to finally get her own supplies, and her own robes, and her own wand. To finally become a real witch. It was time for her to live up to the expectations that were held so high for her.

Her time had come. Finally.

Hermione hadn't wasted time jumping into motion, and soon enough, she was making her way downstairs to the main living room, dressed in her immaculate attire- not a hair out of place nor knick in the material of her clothing. Perfection, and nothing less.

Her attention was immediately on the males in the room. Her father, Tom, and Cygnus were standing near the fireplace, the two younger males quiet as the patriarch of their family talked into the flames. She could tell they were listening to every word with how their bodies were slightly turned inward. Discretion was rare in their family; secrets practically unheard of, which she always figured made them that much closer. All they had was each other, apart from the small handful of individuals that were considered appropriate by her father's terms. And that number was quite low, all things considered.

As she ventured further into the room, the soft sounds of her small heels clicking against the marbled floor gathered their attention. Collectively, their heads both turned towards her.

"Well, it's about bloody time," Cygnus said with a grin, his voice careful not to get too loud. "Aunt Cissa thought we were going to have to leave you here with those blasted house elves."

Tom stepped forward, with his hands casually shoved into his pockets. He was gazing at her with the softest of smiles playing on his lips but his eyes were hard and filled with disgust at the thought. "As if Hermione would actually give up her Diagon Alley trip. And to spend it with those disgusting creatures nonetheless."

She stopped before them and it was less than a second that Tom's arm snaked its way across her shoulder, pulling her into his side with a tender hug that only that of a brother could give. Her own arms wrapped around his waist to return the embrace before falling back to her sides. "No," she sighed with an amused smile. "I most definitely would not give up my trip. My entire life has led up for this moment."

Cygnus scoffed. "No need to be dramatic, Hermione. Could your entire life ambition truly be dwindled down to school textbooks and a few Hogwarts robes? Seems a bit anticlimactic, don't you think?"

"Very," Tom drawled out. His gaze was back onto their father, watching every word that formed as it was spewed into the fire. She glanced at Cygnus but he too was focused on the conversation taking place. Both pairs of eyes were unblinking.

Absentmindedly, she wondered where her mother was. In times such as these, when the boys were too distracted, her mother usually kept her busy with small talk. Neither of them cared too much about her father's deals, but Tom and Cygnus soaked up every word like their lives depended on it. Then again, one day Tom was going to own every galleon that belonged in the Granger vaults, so perhaps, it was his business just as much as it was their father's. There was a part of her too that said she needed to take interest just as the older two did. Eventually it would be expected of her just as it was for them.

With little else to do, her eyes hesitantly followed suit and took in the scene. From the look on her father's face she could tell it was serious. His tone was stern and sharp and it instantly sent her spine straightening. He didn't sound particularly happy.

She didn't enjoy it when he was like that; when he was the complete opposite of how he talked to her and the rest of the family. But she understood the importance of it. In order to be respected, they had to fear you. Power and a reputation was what took you far in the wizarding world. Not soft words and warm smiles. The strong had to be separated from the weak; the superior from the inferior. It's what her father always said.

Her attention snapped back to her father when his voice raised to a lethal shout. She tried to ignore the harsh curse that escaped his mouth but it was incredibly hard. It wasn't proper to use profanity and she could only imagine the storm that would take place if she were to ever dare utter one. She shuddered at the thought but she didn't get to linger long as her father ended the call with a violent wave of his hand. The three of them were quick to stand up straighter when the older wizard turned around.

None of them dared to speak. They all played it safe and waited for their father to make the first move.

"Useless," he seethed. "All of them."

Hermione bit the insides of her cheeks at the tension in the air. Beside her, Cygnus kept his eyes glued onto their father, but then, Tom stepped forward. Both Hermione's and Cygnus' gazes flickered onto him.

"Those in favor were outnumbered?" Tom spoke. It was meant as a question but it didn't sound like it to her ears.

Lucius clutched at the walking stick gripped tightly in his hand. The snake's beady emerald eyes glinted. "Six to six. Those opposed said there was no viable evidence that Dumbledore is incapable of continuing as Headmaster. Therefore," his jaw clenched, "we must wait another year to vote again."

Cygnus groaned, visibly deflating as his hands fisted. Tom, however, stayed poised. The only thing that exposed how he truly felt was the abrupt, single twitch of his brow.

"Mark my words," their father shook his head, "one day that fool will make a mistake, and it will be something that he will not be able to get away with. The Board of Governors will have no choice but to get rid of him."

"And how long do you think that would take?" Tom pushed.

"It should have already happened," Cygnus mumbled under his breath.

Lucius nodded towards Cygnus in silent agreement before looking towards his son. "At the rate he is going, I would not give him more than five years. If all goes as planned, by this time next year, two more of the governors should be… reconsidering their sides."

Hermione's brow furrowed, tilting her head to the side. "Why would that be?" she asked.

Her father grinned down at her and leaned forward, placing a brief kiss on the top of her head. "I happen to be a very persuasive man."

Oh, she had no doubt about that. She had seen first hand how people would bend to her father's every word. Wealth and a pureblood lineage considered royalty was bound to give a person the advantage, the highest advantage achievable in the wizarding world. Her father had power because he was the power- they were the power.

She smirked but the moment was short lived when her mother's footsteps began to echo throughout the room. Hermione turned excitedly and rushed up towards the beautiful witch. Narcissa's black hair was elegantly styled into an updo and her garments were made to perfection; on her neck and ear lobes were jewels that were worth more that most wizards and witches houses. Her ruby lips were vivid against her pale skin but as Hermione got closer, her footsteps slowed to a halt. Where a smile usually was, the corners of her mother's mouth were turned down into a slight frown. Her mother's dark brown eyes were swimming with emotions but when they focused onto Hermione and the others, it was as if a flip were switched. But Hermione stayed rooted, trying desperately hard to think of a reason her mother may be upset. Perhaps she hadn't appreciated being ignored this morning.

Hermione dug her front teeth into her bottom lip. Her father sidestepped her with ease to approach his wife.

"There you are. Are we…," his voice died down as his mercurial eyes narrowed on her form. His head notched to the side. "...ready?"

He turned back towards the children and shared a look with his son. It was obvious he hadn't been the only one to pick up on her strange expression. Tom's eyes were sharp on his mother.

Narcissa nodded her head and smiled a thin-lipped smile. It was too strained. "Ready whenever you are darling."

She moved forward to stand with her children and gently ran her fingers through Hermione's curls as she briefly pressed down onto her young daughter's shoulders to maintain the proper position. Hermione took the corrections silently and craned her neck upwards, reaching up to cover her mother's hand with one of her own before smiling. Hermione couldn't pretend to understand what was wrong with her mother exactly, but it didn't bother her. Her parents were strong willed and there was rarely anyone that could truly ruffle them the wrong way. Usually, it was get them first before they got you.

With everyone in place, Lucius eyed his wife one last time before nodding and apparating his family away with the familiar draw behind their navels.

Diagon Alley was… chaotic to say the least.

She had never gotten to come during this time of the year before. Her father had always said she wouldn't enjoy it but now that she was here, lost in the moment like everyone else, she had to admit that it was one of the most wonderful sights she had ever seen. The place was alive. It was an explosion of color and people and the magic danced in the air with each breath she took.

With wide eyes, she watched as other wizards and witches passed by one another; some stopping to swap a handful of words to another with smiles on full display. Then there were some clusters of families that were trying and failing to manage their children as they attempted to coral them into shops, lists in their hands of all the school supplies needed for the new term. Nearby there was a small huddle of children, slightly older than her, and she had to watch from a distance as they ran around together, laughing and taking turns showing off their new purchases from the nearby joke shoppe. She had to suppress a giggle of her own when one of the boys started to turn a vibrant shade of blue after the candy in his mouth had burst.

Hermione turned towards Tom and Cygnus to share the humor, but neither of them had paid the crowds any attention. Their eyes were set forward.

As hers should have been.

She quickly scolded herself for being so easily distracted and raised her chin, copying their stances.

Unlike the other families, her's didn't speak to anyone. They kept their noses held high and didn't walk anywhere near the other individuals. It was almost unbelievable that they were able to pave out a section of the cobblestone paths for themselves, as if the others were simply drawn away from them, letting them keep their private spaces. No one ever got close to them. None of the other children spoke to her. Well, at least none of those children. She had her own friends, they just weren't here.

Hermione made sure to not glance away from her family again. Her eyes were firm on the back of her father's black robe as she followed. Mouth shut, eyes forward, chin raised. The temptations of Diagon Alley were strong but she was stronger.

Together, they had stopped at multiple stores and item by item, each of their list of needed school supplies shrunk. It was a relief that the stores they went into were nowhere near as packed as the others they had passed. She knew it was because the prices were immensely higher than what they should have been, but it was another one of those added bonuses that came with being wealthy. Merlin forbid any of the Granger or Lestrange children get anything mediocre.

Still, she couldn't help but frown as she recalled the crowds that were gathered at some of the entrances of the shoppes that they had passed. It had made her cringe at the possibility of having to cram herself into them. She supposed that that's what her father had meant when he had said she wouldn't have enjoyed it during this week.

He hadn't been entirely wrong afterall.

But with each purchase, she became more and more restless. She had her books. She had her cauldron. She had her quills and embroidered parchment. She had her new satchel. All she needed was her school robes and her wand. Her wand. It's all she wanted. Having a wand of her own was all she needed. Nothing else mattered. However, it seemed that her parents were purposely putting it off until the end. They probably knew that the moment she obtained it, she would attempt to cast every spell she knew to her knowledge. As soon as they got home, of coarse. Underaged magic couldn't be detected through their wards.

Clothing was their next destination and there was only place that students purchased their school robes from and that was Madam Malkin's. It was fairly decent, all things considered, but it was by far from the best. It was a place that her father didn't particularly care for either and if he didn't care for it, then it was no surprise that Tom and Cygnus sneered at the building every chance they got. Her father had made them send in their own measurements this year instead of having to stand there and get tailored by Madam Malkin herself. Get in and out as soon as possible, as he had described.

However, when the signature golden pair of scissors came into view, her father didn't stop.

"The boys and I will be taking a detour to get some items for tomorrow," he spoke. With the hand not resting on top of his bejeweled cane, he motioned Tom and Cygnus forward. "You and Hermione pick up the new robes and we will meet you there when we are done."

Hermione darted a quick glance between her parents, before settling on the boys. It wasn't fair. They always got to do the fun stuff just because they were older. It's part of the reason why she was so desperate to obtain her wand. Perhaps then they would finally see her as an equal to them. That just because she was a few years younger, it didn't truly mean anything. She would be just like them one day and if she had it her way, it wouldn't be much longer.

She stayed silent, however, when her mother slipped her hand into hers and gently pulled her into the direction of the shoppe. Before they entered, she glanced over her shoulder and watched just as Tom, Cygnus, and her father disappeared around the corner onto Knockturn Alley. She had never been there before.

When a bell chimed above their heads at their arrival, Madam Malkin came rushing up to them right at once. The elder woman began to gush about how beautiful the both of them looked but Hermione hardly listened. She was used to people paying her complements just because of who she was and not if they truly meant it. As her mother conversed with the woman, Hermione left Narcissa's side and began to wander down the numerous racks of clothing, not touching anything, just allowing her mind to find something interesting.

She had her mother's voice within ear range and every few minutes, Hermione would peer between the racks. Madam Malkin was insisting her mother take a look at her newest catalogues, and her mother- being the fashion mogul that she was- couldn't resist. Her mother had inclined her head towards the back section of the store, but Hermione shook her head in response. She would much rather stay to herself than listen to the older woman brag about her garments in desperation to make a sale.

Narcissa was hesitant but she followed after Madam Malkin in hopes that it wouldn't take terribly long. Truly, they were only supposed to get the school robes and nothing more.

Hermione allowed herself to walk down the rows, and without the ever watchful eye of her mother or the owner, she tentatively reached out and skimmed her fingers against the fabrics she passed. She was in a section that her mother would never be caught dead in, but the forbiddenness drew her in. Hermione continued to push forward through the pre-owned clothing and finally began to take the garments into consideration. She lazily bypassed jumpers, vests, dresses, and trousers, and was just about to turn onto the next row when she caught sight of a bright red cardigan.

Hermione glanced up towards the direction her mother had vanished before using both of her hands to gather the garment between her hands, pulling it out of the rack to further inspect it. It was a simple piece, with long sleeves and sides that would rest mid thigh. The material didn't feel rough or scratchy and there were no blemishes in the thread that she could see. It didn't look ugly… It wasn't anything fancy and nothing like she owned but she… she quite liked it actually.

Without thinking, she brought the cardigan towards her dress and noted just how well it complimented her skin tone. It made her pale skin seem to glow in warmth, something that was hardly ever done with the blacks and greys and greens.

Suddenly, the bell chimed again, signalling the arrival of another customer and as if she had been scorched, she threw the garment back onto the rack. She tucked her head down and made a mad dash for the section of the store that wouldn't cause any brows to raise in her direction.

In her desperation, she was hardly paying close attention to where she was going, as long as she got as far away from the red cardigan as possible. She manovered herself between row after row and looked through the small gaps between the hangers to find who had entered the store or if possibly her mother had- her mouth parted in shock and gasped as she ran into something hard and stumbled backwards, fumbling to find her footwork. She was horrified when she realized that that something was actually a someone and watched in mortification as their garments went tumbling to the ground. Her cheeks flamed in embarrassment. She could only imagine what her mother would have done if a reckless child had ran into her.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" she rushed out. Instantly, she bent down to recollect them and as her hands gathered the black robes, her eyes snapped to the symbol adorned on the front. She recognized it all to well.

Her eyes slowly travelled back up to the person in front of her. When she had crashed into him, she hadn't glanced at who it had been because she had panicked at her rudeness, wanting to quickly pick up the items she had caused him to drop. But now, as she rose back up to give the robes back, she was greeted by a boy only slightly taller than herself.

Hermione's brows rose as she stared at the boy. He had pale blonde hair that was hanging loseley in his eyes, the same color as her fathers. Her gaze was locked on his and she found herself swimming in pools of liquid mercury, ethereal and vivid and utterly captivating.

She forced herself to blink in order to break the trance that had briefly held her and as she came back into the moment, she found herself greeted by a soft smile on the blonde's face. The warmth on her cheeks seemed to increase.

Hermione looked down at the bundle in her hands and slowly reached forward to hand them back. She could feel the intensity of his eyes on her face and resisted the urge to shy away. Instead, she straightened up and pushed the clothing into his hands.

"Forgive me," she replied. "I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. I hope I didn't get those dirty."

The boy shook his head. His smile widened and put his teeth on full display. "No, it's fine," he said with a slight laugh. A laugh? She balked at how easy it was for him to brush off the entire incident. Had it been her family, they would have demanded the person never set foot into the shop again, let alone be allowed to keep their feet. Yet, here this boy was, acting as if it hadn't been a problem.

At her stunned silence, he continued, "Honestly, I wasn't paying much attention to where I was going either."

With a silent nod, she diverted her attention to the side. She didn't know what else to say but he was looking at her as if he were expecting her to. Those eyes were still locked onto her face. She had to resist the urge to reach up and cover her cheeks, sure that they were as bright as that cardigan now.

A thick silence washed over them.

Hermione chewed on her bottom lip in the awkwardness of it all. Was there something on her face? Had her hair gotten wild with her romp through the store? Or even more disastrous, had he seen her in the poor section? Her eyes quickly went back to him and darted towards the robes in his hands. The Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry seemed more bolder than usual.

She swallowed, "I take it you will be attending Hogwarts in a few days?" The question seemed appropriate enough and really, she was desperate to end the silence. "I'll be a first year this term."

He brightened at that and she couldn't understand why he would show his emotions so openly. Didn't he know better? Emotions made people vulnerable, therefore, you were to never show them, especially to someone you didn't know. It was one of the most important rules in life. That, and to never associate with-

"Me too," he spoke. "Although I'm pretty nervous about the whole thing to be honest. I don't really know what to expect."

She raised a questioning brow at him. Who didn't know about Hogwarts? It was practically engrained at birth. She couldn't remember how many times she had read Hogwarts: A History and some of her very first memories were of her parents telling her all about their school years and how she was expected to carry on their legacy. Had his parents not done the same?

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Well, the sorting for one," his silver orbs drifted down to the symbol etched onto the robes. "I've been reading up on the traits each house is supposed to hold and I can't really find the place I belong."

She eyed him carefully and answered, "Sometimes it's not about where you belong, but where you want to be. And if you want to be in the house that holds the greatest honor then join the Slytherins."

It was the blonde's turn to raise his brows. "The Slytherin house?" he repeated. "I was under the conclusion that the Slytherins didn't have the best... reputation... when it came to being… er, good. I was leaning more towards Gryffindor."

The second the word left his mouth, she realized, with a great start, that she had no idea who this boy was and yet, here she was talking to him as if they had known each other for years. If Tom and Cygnus were here they would have ripped her away and scolded her for being so foolish. If her father were to see her now he would have cursed the entire building down to the ground. She wasn't supposed to talk to anyone he didn't know. She wasn't supposed to even stand this close to someone unless her father had been the one to introduce her to them. This boy was a stranger. Nothing more and nothing less.

She darted a look towards the direction of her mother but she was still talking to Madam Malkin and every fiber of Hermione's being revolted at the possibility of having to hear the women drone on and on. No, she wanted nothing to do with them.

However, it wasn't as if she could walk away and continue down the other aisles as if he weren't there. It would be extremely rude on her part and besides, her mother had always harped the importance of manners. But, even more importantly, none of her family was here at the moment. None of them could see what she was doing. In a sense, she could do anything she wanted, even if it were only for a short time. She didn't have to follow the rules and they wouldn't have the slightest clue.

Her head turned back towards the blonde boy. "What's your name?"

"Oh, sorry about that," he said. He straightened up and offered his free hand forward, the one not holding his pile of robes. "My name is Draco Maddox. It's nice to meet you."

The hand between them spoke volumes and she couldn't help but stare at it, over analyzing so hard that she swore her brain were seconds from exploding.

She didn't recognize the surname, nothing resembling it either. She recited the short list of the Sacred Twenty Eight and his was nowhere to be found; only two started with 'M'- the Macmillans weren't friends and the other family had disappeared without a trace. If he were a pureblood then she would have heard of him before… Her eyes widened. She knew nearly every pureblood that there was. Heck, most of them were related to her in one way or another. But this boy- Draco- wasn't ringing any bells and she never doubted her memory. It could only mean one thing.

Hermione knew, then and there, that she should spin around on the heel of her foot and not give another second of her time. She knew that if she were Tom or Cygnus or either of her parents, they would have turned a cold shoulder and walked away from Draco without the slightest consideration of his feelings. Manners be damned.

She knew what she should do, but... she found that she didn't want to. It was actually nice to have a conversation with someone new and not have to worry about saying the right things to the right people. It was like a breath of fresh air with him and she quite enjoyed it. Almost as if she had needed it her entire life and hadn't known.

She gave him a soft smile as she clasped her hand with his own. "Hermione Granger," she provided. "It's nice to meet you as well."

And she meant it. Despite...everything, she truly did mean the words she said.

When she released his hand, she couldn't help the next words that flew from her mouth. "Are you a half-blood?"

Draco looked at her hesitantly, with so much apprehension that she knew the answer before he spoke. She wondered if he already knew that there were some pureblood families, like hers, that didn't associate with mudblo- those kind. Could he know that she wasn't supposed to talk to him at all? Or that if her family were to know what he was, they would sneer at him on the spot and treat him worse than a blasted house elf?

She watched as his lips formed the words and desperately tried to ignore the sinking feeling in her chest.

"No, I'm a muggleborn."

Hermione forced a nod. She would not flinch. She would not run. She would not react.

"I figured," she said, voice composed despite the emotions that were wracking through her frame. Her throat felt incredibly dry but she was able to swallow it away. "In pureblood families, everyone knows everyone and… well, obviously I didn't know who you were. That only left two other options…" Hermione reddened at her babbling and cleared her throat, quickly changing the subject. "Are you here alone?"

Draco shook his head. "My mother is with one of the workers in the back getting my wizarding robes ready for term. I wanted a bit of both; some regular clothes and some magical, figured it might be a bit easier to fit in."

She didn't remark how his 'regular' clothes was completely different than her 'regular' clothes. It was the small things that was the stark reminder that they came from such different places. Yet, here they both were in the same shoppe getting the same robes and talking to one another. It seemed easy for him, as if he didn't see how forbidden this was. It was truly mind boggling. Here he was, this mudblood, sharing the same air as her and there was no difference. She had heard the stories. Mudbloods were supposed to be disgusting and revolting and be the worst disaster to happen to the Wizarding World but Draco didn't look like any of it. Perhaps not all mudbloods were like that? Perhaps he was just different? She had never met, let alone talked to one before so it wasn't as if she had experience to back herself up with. She knew nothing about them, only to keep away at all cost. To sneer and insult them at every opportunity, and show them that they weren't wanted, that they were the inferior ones who belonged beneath people like her.

Her mind was screaming at her to run. After eleven years of being told what scum mudbloods were, it felt wrong not to run. Her lips wanted to sneer and she could feel the muscles twitching against their instinct. It wouldn't be long until the mud that ran through his veins contaminated her own at his close proximity. How long would it be until hers turned brown just as his, a vile concoction that would ruin the sacred vermillion fluids that ran throughout her body. Would... Would it be as terrible as they all claimed? He looked so normal. He acted so normal. She liked him for Merlin's sake.

But she knew she shouldn't.

"I'm here with my mother as well," she spoke. It took everything in her to not strain her words. Her hands were wringing themselves as she clutched the fabric of her dress. Her nerves were dancing across her skin. "We were just picking up our robes but Madam Malkin-"

"Hermione, darling?"

Panic seized her when she heard her mother's voice. Her eyes widened and she hurriedly began to turn away from Draco, but it was much too late.

Her mother was striding down the aisle with the look of pure elegance on her face but as she got closer, Hermione saw her brown eyes lock onto the boy. It felt as if her heart sank to her toes. She could feel the dread begin to consume her whole.

"Mother," she smiled as perfectly as she could as her mother approached them. The corners of her cheeks hurt but it was a small price she was willing to pay. Hermione acted as if she had done nothing wrong. Feigned ignorance was key.

Hermione watched as her mother had yet to take her questioning stare from Draco, her brows raised on her forehead. Hermione knew what the gesture meant. The older witch was waiting for an explanation.

Her throat felt tight but she pushed through and reached out to grab her mother's hand as she nodded towards the blonde boy.

"Mother, this is my new friend, Draco Maddox," she rushed out his last name in a quick breath. She saw the surprise in her mother's dark eyes. Had she been too hasty in her words? Had friend been the correct term? Everyone else she had ever talked to was considered a friend, so why not Draco?

She watched as Narcissa snapped her gaze up and quickly scanned the area for prying individuals. Could her mother feel how forbidden this was? Could her mother tell what he was, could she sense it? Hermione's heart pounded in her chest.

But then, her mother smiled and Hermione was careful to not stare in shock.

"Well, hello Draco. Your name is absolutely lovely," she said. "Constellations have always been one of my favorite subjects. Quite a strong name for such a strong boy."

Hermione had been watching the interaction with hawk-like eyes.

Narcissa's words made Draco beam. "Thank you," he returned. His eyes were like liquid silver when he smiled. Hermione thought it was a beautiful sight to behold. More precious that the jewelry that hung from her mother's neck or the diamonds that rested on their ears.

"Mother, Draco is going to be starting his first year at Hogwarts with me," Hermione continued. The nerves were fading less and less. If her mother couldn't tell that Draco was a mudblood, then would the others? If they couldn't then she would be able to talk to him once they started term- she could be his real, true friend. Then again, there was the whole Gryffindor thing, which would only add to the barriers of making it impossible to ever say a word to one another while at Hogwarts. Then again, would they really care if a Slytherin like herself talked to a Gryffindor such as him? She felt that the matter would be insignificant compared to the other students lives at Hogwarts. Why would they care? They would have more important things to worry about than who she did or didn't talk to. Perhaps she was just overthinking the entire thing.

Yes, that had to be it.

With her worries pushed aside, Hermione engaged in conversation with her mother and Draco. Hermione hardly realized how much time had passed until her mother was grabbing onto her hand and nodding towards the windows. Hermione followed her mother's line of sight and saw the striking flash of pale blonde hair of her father and the two teenage boys that were close behind him. Her panic violently crashed back onto her. Oh no- no, no, no, no.

"Draco it has been wonderful meeting you but unfortunately, Hermione and I have to be on our way now," Narcissa inclined her head in a wordless parting but the more Hermione listened, she could hear the soft tones of urgency. "I wish you the best with your time at Hogwarts. Hermione, dear, we must be going."

She knew that. Her father was not a patient man and she wouldn't dare risk him coming into the shop. She had no doubt that her father, Lucius Granger- pureblood elite, Sacred Twenty Eight- could spot a mudblood in a heartbeat. Less than that even.

Hermione was quick to say her goodbye and shake Draco's hand in departure. The feel of his palm against hers made her smile. She was proud that she had met him; the first person she had ever met on her own without her father there to direct the conversation. She had found him on her own and it was the best feeling she ever felt. She would have wanted nothing more than to take her with him but she knew better.

Her head stayed turned as her mother pulled her towards the door, memorizing his face for the next time they would meet. Her smile didn't diminish even as she waved her goodbye and as the door broke her view.

It didn't go away for the rest of the day in fact.

Hermione stared down the length of her wand, watching in fascination as the tip bled its faint wisps of grey smoke. She let her gaze travel to the destruction she had caused and grinned at the sight.

"Well," Cygnus lazily drawled, kicking at the remnant pieces of a shattered long table. "We know that you can cast regular spells, but how about you try something a bit more… damning?"

Her brows rose and she turned to look at her brother. Had a Reducto not been enough? Tom was leaned against the wall with his face hidden in the shadows, but his eyes were watching their every move; analyzing and judging, making sure her wand movements were as close to perfection as possible.

At her look of disbelief, however, Tom kicked off the wall and pushed forward towards them. He cocked his head to the side as he advanced.

"That, Cygnus, sounds like an excellent idea. Something that is a true Dark Arts masterpiece. Perhaps," he grinned, sharing a quick glance with their cousin, "one of the unforgivables?"

Her eyes widened. She knew what the unforgivables were, she was no fool. But the unforgivables were...well, unforgivable for specific reasons. They were dark and dangerous and not for the faint of heart, not for her. A first year had no business casting one, let alone any student in Hogwarts, and she wasn't even a true one yet!

"An unforgivable?" she clarified, her voice tight. "Don't you think that's a bit much?"

Tom frowned as he looked at her. "No," he said. "If you start with the hardest spells to master then everything else will be elementary. Wouldn't you agree?"

His eyes were boring into her, daring her to say otherwise. She could feel Cygnus' too, trained onto her face and waiting for her to speak. Her cousin was twiddling his wand between his fingers with expertise.

"I… well, yes I suppose," she fumbled with her words. "But-"

"Good," Tom interrupted her. "We can start now. Dobby!" he shouted.

She felt her stomach sink. Her fingers trembled slightly against the vinewood in her hand when one of the family house elves popped into the room, downed in a cushion cover, a mere thin piece of cloth that hung loosely from his small body. She hated them. Usually she avoided the creatures whenever she could. They revolted her with their wrinkly splotched skin and their big, pointed ears and how they could always bring out the side of her father, Tom, and Cygnus that she hated to see- their cruelness, their spite and hatred.

She hated the creatures with every fiber of her being and yet, no matter how hard she tried to ignore them, they were always there- cleaning the manor, putting away her things, tending on her every beck and call and insisting they were hers to command. Stupid, stupid creatures.

She couldn't even bring herself to look at Dobby as he stood before them. Her stare was diverted above the creatures bald head, refusing to look into those abnormally large green eyes as Tom began to circle him, a predator seconds away from devouring its prey.

"Dobby, you are just a worthless house elf, correct? Nothing more than a slave at your master's behalf," Tom sneered.

The elf bobbed its head up and down, his head down low as he bowed. "Yes, Master Tom. I live to serve your family."

Cygnus began to approach the elf, easily bypassing Hermione and sneering at the creature in disgust.

"Then you would be glad for my little sister to practice her magic on you, right?" Dobby cowered at Tom's sharp tone.

Dobby wrung his bony hands together. "The h-honor would b-be all mine, Master Tom." The elf turned his head towards Hermione, letting its eyes search her face.

She met its gaze head on, refusing to allow it to see the turmoil that bubbled beneath her skin. She would show it nothing.

Her grip tightened on her wand.

"Let's begin then," Tom shifted his head to look pointedly at her.

Cygnus was still twiddling his wand. Tom was staring at her unblinkingly.

The blood was pounding in her ears.

She could do this. If they could do it so easily, why couldn't she? It was just a stupid house elf. A useless bloody creature. She had to prove her worth. She had to show them that she was just like them. It was expected of her eventually.

Her grip around her wand was so tight that she feared it may snap. She had to force her fingers to relax and swallowed hard.

One little spell. One word was all it took.

She raised her wand up once again. With a heavy inhale she opened her mouth and-

The doors of the drawing room opened and collectively, the three of them turned. She had to peer around Tom and Cygnus. Hermione brought her wand down immediately as she caught sight of her mother. The older witch's gaze switched from them to the elf and back again.

"Dinner is ready," she spoke. Was that disappointment on her face? "You three are done for the day."

Tom and Cygnus looked towards one another, both glancing back towards Dobby. It was evident that they didn't want to leave, as if they had no problem ignoring what their mother had said as long as it meant they could make the elf hurt.

"Now boys," Narcissa spoke again. This time the authority was clear in her voice.

Cygnus tucked his wand into his sleeve and strided towards the door. Tom, however, tipped his head back, stuffed his hands into his pockets, and slowly- arrogantly- followed after. With them gone, her mother's eyes locked onto her. Her piercing gaze drifted down to the wand gripped in her hand.

Hermione opened her mouth, "I-"

"Now Hermione." Her mother stomped forward and without another word, she held out her hand and pulled Hermione from the room.

The following morning, she woke up with nerves heavily embedded throughout her system. This was her last day. Tomorrow she would get on the Hogwarts Express and start her life as a student, tucked away into a castle with others just like her- Vince, Gregg, Theo, Tom, Cygnus… Draco, they would all be there. With her and without the constant supervision from their parents. It seemed like paradise, nearly. It was almost too much to fathom.

But tomorrow seemed so far away.

According to her father, they had plans for the day. A 'business meeting' as he had called it, which usually involved meeting up with their family friends while spending the day in Diagon Alley. Of course they weren't allowed in their father's 'business meeting' but she didn't mind. She quite enjoyed them actually because she was able to see her friends- the children of her father's friends really. But they were all she had ever known, apart from Draco. They were all she had.

At her turn of thoughts, her mind wandered to the previous day. Not the near incident with Dobby or getting her very own wand. No, her mind went straight to Draco Maddox, the Mud- Muggleborn. He was so… different compared to her friends. He had emotions and smiled and didn't have any care in the world and had manners and was so polite and- and she liked him.

She smiled into her pillows. She wondered if she would possibly see him today in Diagon or perhaps at least tomorrow on Hogwart's Platform. He would be there but the point of the matter was if she would see him. She could still remember the chaos when she had went with her parents to see Tom and Cygnus off for their first year. The place was going to be packed, crammed nearly from shoulder to shoulder as parents and siblings hugged goodbye. So the chance of seeing Draco was going to be slim to none.

But the chance was still there, even if only slight. Maybe, just maybe, she would see him. Maybe he could sit with her on the train and maybe they could stand by each other during their sorting and maybe he would actually be sorted into Slytherin with her. The possibility was there.

However… her smile vanished as reality crashed back into her. Draco wanted to be in Gryffindor. He wouldn't be sitting with her on the train because she was expected to be with Tom and Cygnus and the others. She wouldn't be standing by him during their sorting because surely Greg and Vince would spot him like a sore thumb, their instincts sharp like that of their fathers.

She sighed. Leave it to her to finally make an actual friend on her own only to find that he is the exact thing she was forbidden to ever speak to. It wasn't fair.

It was a cruel draw of fate.

As Hermione entered the dining room she was surprised to see Tom sitting down eating his breakfast alone. It was still quite early in the morning and it would probably be several more minutes until Cygnus and the others came down, but the silent peacefulness of it all wasn't something she wouldn't take for granted. She had grown to appreciate the silence since an early age.

When she sat down across from Tom, few of the house elves rushed up to her with breakfast platters and didn't hesitate to pile up her plate. She paid no attention to them, and instead, looked at Tom, who was already watching her. He had a slight sneer on his face that was directed towards the house elves as they scurried around her.

She paid it no mind and smiled, "Good morning, brother."

He returned the greeting but he wasted no time sliding the newest copy of the Daily Prophet towards her. Her brows furrowed slightly when she caught sight of a boy walking beside the half-giant, Hagrid, that she knew was the groundskeeper at Hogwarts. She glanced up towards her brother in confusion but then he tapped down at the headline that she hadn't bothered to red. It's bolded black lettering made her jaw drop in shock: The Boy-Who-Lived Spotted in Diagon Alley.

"Has father seen this yet?" she glanced back up, her voice a quiet whisper.

Tom nodded his head. "He stormed out when I walked in. No doubt he's talking with the others."

Her gaze drifted back onto the paper in her hands and she watched closely as the boy walked the streets. He… wasn't as she imagined. He seemed disheveled, with his black hair wild and appearing as if he had never combed through it once. His clothing seemed two sizes too big and he wore glasses for Merlin's sake. This was the boy who had defeated the Dark Lord, as hard to believe as that was. In truth, she had forgotten all about the infamous Potter. He had disappeared from the Wizarding World for nearly a decade and she had always figured that if he were to ever return, it wouldn't have caught her off guard. But goodness how wrong she had been.

She couldn't imagine starting Hogwarts with him there. All of the attention would be on him. The professors would probably all favor him just because they were sympathetic towards his past. Honestly, it was quickly dampening her mood.

She knew without a doubt that Tom wouldn't pretend that Potter being there wasn't significant. Cygnus would be… she didn't even want to begin thinking about what her cousin would do. Greg and Vince would try to beat him up at every chance they got, being the brute force types. And she… what would she do?

"What does that mean for us?" she asked.

Tom leaned forward, placing his hand over Potter's picture in the Prophet. "That means we will make his life a living hell," he answered, in a tone that send chills down her spine. "Dumbledore will watch his every move, I'm sure, but we should be able to maneuver around him without getting caught. The problem, however, is-"

"Cygnus," she finished. He would be a problem. When he found out that Harry Potter would be starting term, he would, in complete honesty, flip his shite. He would be a disaster waiting to happen, doing anything and everything in his power to cause Potter hell. It would be a hard task but their father had made it clear that they were to keep their records crystal clear, cleaner than any Scourgify could do. None of them would dare to get into trouble.

"I'll make sure he keeps in check when needed," Tom said, as if the task would be as easy as discussing the weather. He was insane if he thought it would be that straightforward.

She kept that little opinion to herself though.

But Tom wasn't done speaking. He narrowed his eyes down at the paper. "I have to admit that I hadn't seen this coming. I always expected Dumbledore would keep him in hiding but it seems just like something the fool would do- bring in some halfblood arse that won't care for the difference between who's a mudblood or pureblood. I mean, the paper even says he was raised in the Muggle world all of his life so he's basically on par with those disgusting mudbloods. Worse even than all of them combined."

She bit into the flesh of her bottom lip, nodding wordlessly to the things Tom was rambling about. "The worst," she mumbled, her eyes downcasting to the plate in front of her. She wasn't hungry anymore. She felt quite sick, actually.

"The school is repulsive as it is-," he sneered, "-with all the mudbloods that roam in the halls as if its normal, but now we are expected to have no problem with Potter there too? The very person who made the Dark Lord vanish and they want everything to run smoothly? Surely they know that they will have a storm on their hands once everyone arrives."

She sat in silence as Tom continued to drone on, letting her thoughts run miles per second. The cogs were spinning, round and round and round, and she could see a bright side in all of this- faint and minute but there nonetheless. Maybe having Harry Potter there at Hogwarts could, possibly, distract Tom, Cygnus, and the others from hating the muggleborns as severely as they did. Maybe with that distraction, she could have her friendship with Draco after all.

"Tom," she spoke, softly and hesitantly. His head looked up at her expectantly, his eyes meeting hers. Hermione had to say it now before she lost her nerve. If she didn't ask now then she knew she never would. "I want to ask you something but you can't tell anyone else, not even Father."

His brows furrowed slightly and he sat up straight in his chair. She knew he didn't like keeping things from their father but she was his little sister and he had never denied her of anything. So far, at least.

Tom nodded his head for her to continue. She could see the promise in his eyes.

Hermione took in a shaky breath. Here goes nothing.

"What is so different about them? The… Mudbloods, I mean. What makes them so different from us besides their blood?"

Tom's gaze hardened. "Everything makes them different from us, Hermione. Everything. You'll know what I'm talking about when you see one for yourself. They are disgusting, nothing but filthy, unworthy scum that have managed to trick people like Dumbledore into thinking they have actual magic running through their veins like you, Cygnus, and I, and Mother and Father."

Inwardly, she deflated in defeat. What he had given her, was not was she had wanted. He hadn't actually answered her question. Nothing was different between her and Draco. Nothing. But there had to be something! Otherwise, why would people harp so much on blood status' as they did?

Someone had the answers with valid explanations that she could logically understand and process. And she knew the perfect person.

Hermione pretended that Tom's answer was enough and nodded her head at him. She turned into her breakfast just as Cygnus entered the room.

The peace only lasted so long until her cousin spotted the Prophet. He stood up so quickly that his chair went tumbling to the ground. When the stream of profanities flew from his mouth, Hermione took a deep breath.

Today was going to be a very, very long day.

One thing that Hermione cherished above all else, was when she was able to spend time with her Godfather. So whenever she got the chance to visit Spinner's End, she never refused even when Tom and Cygnus absolutely insisted that she go home and continue their lesson from the previous day.

She had never moved faster than leaving Diagon with Severus, not hesitating to throw her hasty goodbye over her shoulder and clasping her hand into her Godfather's before aparating away with a crack.

Spinner's End was her home away from home. It was nowhere near as grand as the manor but that's why she loved it so much. That, and it was always quiet. It was the perfect environment for reading or studying, just the way she liked it.

On most occasions she was there for academic purposes. From an early age she could remember watching him towering over his potion cauldron, mixing and brewing and turning the rooms such beautiful colors as the walls glowed with the various potion bottles he had stashed amongst the cabinets. As a child she had been captivated and the fascination had only grown as she got older, as she was able to understand that not every wizard could do what he did.

She liked to think of herself as his little protege. He hated when she said it, but it's what she was in a sense. He had taught her everything revolving around Potions and Defense, and as of last year, the Dark Arts, but little by little he fed to her everything he knew. By the curriculum standpoint, she was well over the third year.

And as much as he swore he detested her, she could see right through his bluff. No matter where they were, everytime she was there she could see the barely-there ghost of a smile drift across his lips. To anyone else he would have seemed his usual, cold self but she knew him almost as well as she knew herself. Hermione was his Goddaughter, after all.

"Now that the potion is glowing white, you will need to stir in the essence of Hemlock," her Godfather instructed her as she glanced into the cauldron. "Make sure you stir rapidly for half an hour to prevent the formation of ice crystals." She nodded silently, heavy in her concentration.

"Since it's almost done, can you tell me what it is?" she glanced towards Severus but not breaking the motion of her stirring.

He raised a black brow at her, closing his book with a sharp snap. "You mean you do not know? This potion is arguably one of the cruelest and sadistic potions ever created. It is also strictly illegal. When swallowed, it induces fear, delirium, and extreme thirst," he informed her.

Oh.

"So we're making Drink of Despair?," she asked for clarification, tilting her head up to her look at him. What in Merlin's name did he need the Drink of Despair for?

"Are you asking or telling?"

Hermione pursed her lips. "Telling," she answered matter-of-factly.

"Go on then," he nodded towards her. "Tell me more."

She was quick to wrack through her brain. "The Drink of Despair, also known as the Emerald Potion, cannot be penetrated by hand, nor vanished, parted, siphoned away, or change its nature in any way. It can only be drained away by an individual drinking it. It glows an emerald, phosphorescent color when brewed to perfection and its duration period is six hours."

Hermione watched Severus expectantly, waiting for him to tell her that she was right. But he stayed poised, his black eyes giving nothing away as he stared back. Neither backed down from each other. She had gotten used to his impending gaze long, long ago. She didn't see him as the rest of the world did.

But then, the corner of his mouth twitched as he grinned at her response. "I see you have read your copy of Advanced Potion Making that I gave you for Christmas."

"I've read it three times actually."

He didn't seem surprised. Almost as if he had expected nothing less.

Soon enough, the thirty minutes had passed and Hermione found herself adding the drops of vitriol into the potion.

"Stir for an additional minute," he continued to instruct her. "If you did it correctly, it should turn bright green while smoking violently. It will freeze over before an explosive reaction can occur."

Just as her Godfather described, Hermione watched the liquid in the cauldron do exactly as he said. It never failed that she beamed at her work, feeling a brief surge of pride rush through her. Severus took over from there by lighting a faint fire below the cauldron with a wave of his hand to allow the potion to defrost to room temperature. She was silent as he walked over to one of his many stocked shelves to get a stoneware bottle.

As his back was turned to her, Hermione drew her bottom lip between her teeth, thinking hard about how she wanted to approach him with the 'Mudblood' situation. Who else would be more perfect? He had to teach them potions at Hogwarts, he interacted them on a daily basis once term started. If anyone would be able to tell her what seperated Mudbloods from the rest of magical society, then her Godfather would be it. More importantly, she trusted him enough that he wouldn't do anything drastic when she would ask him. Not like her father, or Tom, or Cygnus. She trusted Severus to more sane in his judgement.

Hermione glanced at the back of Severus' head. "Uncle Sev…" she began, cautiously. He merely hummed in response, not bothering to turn around to face her as he continued to prepare the bottle. "I wanted to ask you a question."

"About?"

"Well, with term starting tomorrow I just- I was just curious about- I just wanted to know-"

"Do you plan on telling me sometime today?"

She sighed and rushed out, "Why are Mudbloods so disgusting?"

Her eyes widened as Severus rushed around, his black robe billowing behind him. His gaze was incredulous as he gazed at her, brows knitted together. She cringed when she recalled the words that had left her mouth… so crast on her behalf. She hadn't meant to say it like that but it wasn't like she had a time turner around her neck.

"I beg your pardon?" he whispered. She wanted to shrink away from his tone. Like her father, when Severus got angered, he didn't shout or yell, instead, his voice turned into a deadly hiss, poison laced on his tongue.

Hermione inhaled heavily and tried again, "I asked why are Mudbloods-"

Severus cut her off with a wave of his hand, dismissing her. "I heard what you said."

She narrowed her eyes in confusion, "Then...why did- are you upset?"

"Upset?" he repeated, his gaze leveling with hers. He shook his head sharply. "I am disappointed."

Her jaw dropped in outrage. She moved around the cauldron to stand before him, her arms crossed over her chest. "And pray tell, what exactly is it that I have done wrong?

"You of all people should know better than to use such foul language."

"Foul language?" she asked, becoming even more confused than before. What foul language? But then it clicked. She knew others considered the word 'Mudblood' as an offense, but never had she realized that her Godfather was one of them. Surely her father or one of the boys had said it before, in front of him and never had Severus said anything. She felt her cheeks flame in humiliation.

"I… I believe I do not understand, Uncle. Everyone says that word."

"If you know which word I refer to, then you understand perfectly well why I do not enjoy hearing it," he bit back.

Her head shook from side to side, her auburn curls brushing against her shoulders at the movement. "But everyone-"

"Well consider yourself not everyone," he hissed. "When a person says that word, they are highly frowned upon. If anyone were to hear you say that, while at Hogwarts especially, you will not be viewed as an outstanding student. And I will not have my Goddaughter be frowned upon. I will not allow it, do you understand?"

She bit down on the insides of her cheek, refraining from making a comment that he had never said those things to Tom or Cygnus, and nodded in silence.

With the bottle in his hand, he wordlessly walked past her towards the brewing cauldron. The silence was thick as he ladled the liquid, keeping her eyes trained on his expert hands. However, her questions were still nagging at her mind. They were pounding against the front of her skull without mercy.

She could handle them no longer.

"I met one," she blurted out. "Yesterday, when we went to Diagon for our school supplies. Mother and I had went to get our robes and he- he was there and I talked to him… after knowing that he was a muggleborn. His name is Draco and he's going to be a first year just like me. He's… he's my friend."

When she finally built up the courage, she looked away from his hands and glanced up. He had frozen and his eyes were undecipherable as he stared at her. She felt small beneath his gaze. Too small.

"But I am not stupid," she pushed on."Tom and Cygnus will know what he is the very second they see him. I know that I won't be able to talk to him as if he were Vince or Greg or Theo but- but I want to still be his friend and- and I don't know what to do."

Several minutes of silence passed as the truth hung between them. Perhaps she had read her Godfather wrong and he was seconds away from summoning her father and giving him every detail of what she had admitted. Her heart began to pound at the idea of what her punishment would be, her palms began to sweat. Had it been too much in such little time?

But then, he spoke. "I think you should never speak about Draco again once you leave here. Your father musn't find out about him, nor should Tom and Cygnus or Narcissa."

She refused to admit that by all technicalities, her mother knew fully well about Draco's blood status.

"If you want my… advice, then I suggest you forget all about the boy," Severus said, not meeting her eyes. "You have a high place in the Wizarding World and a muggleborn has no business being involved in it. Surely you understand and realize that you have been born into a family that does not allow or want muggleborns in our world. You do remember what side you are on, correct? I will not stand by and allow you to make mistakes that will only end in disaster if others were to become aware."

She understood what he was telling her. He was only confirming what she had known from the second Draco had told her what he was. If her father found out, she would be casted out, burnt off of the family tapestry just as her mother's sister and left forgotten. Everything she ever cared about, gone, just because of a boy. One single, handsome blonde boy who had made her stomach flutter and cheeks redden with every second that she stood in his presence. He was just one boy.

"Do you understand?" he repeated, breaking her thoughts. His tone was harder than before.

Hermione nodded. "Yes, I understand," she answered, keeping her eyes downcasted onto the floor. "You're right," she breathed. "You are absolutely right."

Her Godfather eyed her one last time, watching her reaction carefully before inclining his head towards the cauldron. He held out a second bottle, waiting for her to take it.

"I'm sure Tom and Cygnus would appreciate it if you were to take them a sample of your latest work," he spoke. "They've been asking me for something new to try on the elves, hopefully that will subdue their pestering."

"Perhaps for a week, yes," she smirked at him.

He glanced at the clock above the mantelpiece. "I suppose it is time to get you home. You of all people probably want to be up at the crack of dawn and arrive at the platform in your school robes."

"There is nothing wrong with that," she was quick to point out.

He grinned down at her. "Oh, I never said there was."

She smiled as he led her towards the fireplace.

The potion was heavy in her hand. It nearly matched the feeling in her heart.