A/N: Thank you for reading, everyone! Please make the numbers go uppy! I'd really like to know what you like and what I could work on; please let me know in a review.

~ 4ever

There was another, a boy.

Severus Snape.

The next day dawned, cold but sunny. As promised, Minerva was waiting downstairs when Hermione finally dragged herself out of bed.

She dressed in Muggle clothes and de-frizzed her poor hair; she would change into her robes on the train. She quickly packed her trunk, filling it with sentimental things, a few clothes, and books. Lots and lots of books.

They arrived at the train station, and Minerva introduced her to a family of redheads. She chatted with the twins, who were a year or two older than her, when she heard her father's voice.

Enna! He's here! Tom's voice was urgent and excited, like a child on Christmas morning.

She turned her head and watched as a boy around her age approached them. He had black hair that hung in his eyes, presumably covering up his scar, and he was quite skinny, as if he hadn't eaten properly for days.

"Er, hello," Harry said nervously. "I was wondering—"

"How to get to Platform 9 and 3/4?" Molly Weasley, the mother of the redheads said kindly. "Of course, dear, just watch Percy."

The eldest, tallest, and gangliest of the boys, Percy, ran towards the brick wall with his trolley. He looked as if he was going to hit the wall face-first, but instead he went through it.

There was a mixup with the twins, who went next, and finally only Ron, Hermione, and Harry were left.

Looking around at one another, they nodded and rushed into the wall. Only it wasn't a wall so much as a brick-wall-looking mist.

They tumbled out the other side and collapsed in a heap. Hermione was on top, so she got up first and offered her hands to the boys. "I'm Hermione Granger, and I'm a first-year." She said proudly.

"Me too," the boys muttered, shoving their hands in their pockets.

Hermione rolled her eyes and left to find an empty compartment.

"Bloody know-it-all," Ron whispered to Harry. Harry made a noise of complete agreement.

"Nerdy bookworm," he said under his breath.

Hermione felt her eyes tear up, and not just from the cold. What a warm welcome, she said disgustedly, swiping at her eyes furiously.

Hush, Enna, they are probably just jealous. Now remember, don't confront Severus yet. Give him a few months; it has always taken him a while to warm up to new people. The only exception, he told her, his voice soft and soothing, was you.

Hermione snorted, and finally found a car with no one except a pale girl with white-blonde hair. "May I sit?" She asked, gesturing to the seat opposite the girl.

The girl nodded, almost absently. "Of course...but be warned, there may be Humperquinkles around."

Hermione sat down. She had some experience with people like this. "Ah, yes, Humperquinkles," she said, attempting to keep the amusement out of her voice. "Quite dangerous, especially to girls, am I right?"

The girl looked up at Hermione, surprised and pleased. "Indeed," she intoned. "I am Luna Lovegood, but nearly everyone calls me Loony. I don't know why."

The girls fell to talking, and they discovered they had several things in common, including Nargles, Nifflers, books, and a fear of being sorted into Hufflepuff, which they regarded as the least important House.

Suddenly the door slid open and there stood Ron and Harry. "Er, can we sit?" Harry asked.

"Of course," Luna said serenely, moving to sit beside Hermione.

"Hello, Ron, Harry," Hermione said, not unkindly, turning back to her book. Luna glanced at the title, smiled, and pulled out the exact same book, although perhaps less battered, as Hermione had read this particular copy dozens of times. Luna opened her book and turned it upside down.

Really, I wonder why people call her 'Loony', Hermione said sarcastically. Not moving her head at all, she glanced at the boys, who were squirming uncomfortably.

Finally, after a few minutes of listening to the leather on the seats squeak as the boys shuffled on it, she sighed and put her book down. "What is it?" She demanded, glaring at them.

"Uh, I'm sorry we said rude things about you," Harry said.

Hermione grinned wickedly. "Oh, what about the other one? Doesn't he talk?" She didn't wait for an answer as she turned her glare singularly onto Ron. "Wait, of course he does! I heard him just a few minutes ago!" She tapped her chin, pretending to be deep in thought. "Now, what was it he said? Oh yes: 'Bloody know-it-all'. It is actually very helpful to read sometimes, Weasel-bee."

A laugh erupted from the throats of several people standing in the doorway of the compartment. "Nice one, Mudblood," Draco sneered.

Hermione turned her gaze upon Draco and raised an eyebrow daintily. "You want a turn, Ferret?"

Twin splotches of red appeared on Draco's high cheekbones, painfully prominent against his pale skin. Tom had told Hermione about the nickname, and she had used it well, he praised proudly.

"My name is Draco Malfoy." Draco droned. "I come from the purest of pure families, unlike yours, Mudblood."

"Pleasure to meet you...Ferret," Hermione grinned. "And who says my blood is muddy?"

Draco's expression was condescending. "If I cut you right now, your blood will be brown. That is what everyone from any true Pureblood family knows."

"Have you actually ever cut a Muggle-born?" Luna asked in a dreamy voice. Draco's eyebrows went up.

"No, but I have watched as my father did. Believe me when I say their blood is muddy."

Hermione hissed, "Have you seen it up close though?" Draco sneered and shook his head.

Hermione contacted Tom: Father, may I prove him wrong?

You have my permission, daughter, Tom replied, his mental voice amused.

Hermione pulled a small, sharp, silver knife from her book bag. "This is what my blood looks like," she said, and pulled the blade across the smooth, pale skin of her inner forearm.

"No!" Ron exclaimed. Harry looked horrified.

Hermione watched impassively as scarlet blood droplets welled up across the shallow cut. "This is what my blood looks like," she repeated, and stood up, wiping the red liquid on Draco's starched white shirt.

Draco looked down, noticing the crimson blood bloom on his shirt, spreading quickly. She was right: her blood wasn't the slightest bit muddy. It wasn't any color except pure red.

He lifted his head and met the Mudblood's gaze, which was cold and harsh, quite a contrast to her warm chocolate-brown eyes.

He suddenly realized that she was pretty, in a bookish kind of way: her skin looked like she spent most of her time indoors, most likely reading, and her hair was quite curly and rather bushy, but it looked soft. Draco almost wanted to run his hands through it.

Whoa, what?

He dropped his eyes again. He couldn't crush on a Mudblood. It was against the ethics of Purebloods.

He would have to talk to his godfather about the situation.

A/N: How are you liking it? Please drop a review

Let me know how OOC you want Severus to act; I want him to be cold and 'The Greasy Git of the Dungeons' at times, but I also want him to be a kind, loving brother.

Love all of you to pieces!

~ 4ever