Chapter One - The Start of an Age

"MUM! POST IS HERE!" Hermione scrambled off the sofa to gather the papers from the floor, mail slot still swinging. "Thank you, Mr. Dodds!" she called, peeking through the slat, and he waved as he continued to the next house.

Her father chuckled from his seat at the table, where he read a dentistry textbook and took notes with a highlighter. "And what did the Honorable Postman Dodds deliver today?"

Hermione giggled and plopped the stack in front of her breakfast plate, settling into her chair. Her mother brought a cup of tea for her, "with extra honey, of course."

"Thanks, Mum. This is for you. It's from Uncle Teddy and Aunt Sal in the States." Hermione loved doling out the post. "Dad, this is for you from the energy company."

"That's impossible," he grumbled, trying to hide behind his textbook. "There's no 'Dad' here."

Her mother chuckled and kissed him on the head. Hermione didn't hear his distress, however, because there was a letter addressed to her.

"Hermione Jean Granger, 214 Queen's Blvd., Melling, England, L31"

She ripped the letter open and promptly began to scream.

"Master Malfoy, it is currently 8:04 a.m." A house elf by the name of Boris began to open the heavy curtains, exposing the groaning boy to the dull grey of a dismal morning.

"Go away," Draco begged, pulling the scratchy sheets over his eyes.

Boris hissed his displeasure and clawed the glass window pane, creating a horrid noise that echoed throughout the elegant, cold room. Draco yelped and spilled out of bed, foot caught in the sheet, and hair disheveled.

"Your father wants you downstairs in the dining room, dressed and ready to receive in six minutes," Boris said, sundering towards the door. "I suggest you be on time."

At 8:10, Draco sat to the left of his father, forcing himself to choke down food he hated.

"We have visitors at 9," his father said. "The Zabini's want to take a look at the new litter, and you are going to present the pups to Mr. Zabini. Assuming they buy, we will entertain them until lunch. They have a son your age. At 2, I have engagements elsewhere. When I come home, I expect you to have finished your report on Hogwarts: A History, and you'll need to show me a perfect crow's poison."

A crow's poison consisted of highly flammable materials, a forever-sharp knife, and one particularly toxic breed of watersprout. Draco did not want to make crow's poison.

Lucius continued. "Your letter from Hogwarts came this morning. You'll be leaving on September 1st. I've sent Boris into Diagon Alley with the supplies list."

Draco put his fork down and looked up at his father. "Surely I'll need a wand?"

"Yes." Lucius did not meet his gaze, electing instead to read the Daily Prophet.

Draco pressed on. "Surely Boris will not be selecting my wand for me?"

Lucius continued to read. "Will there be anymore asinine questions, Draco, or are you going to use what little mind you've developed to answer that question yourself?"

The young boy looked down at his revolting meal, trying not to cry.

"Clearly not. A selection of wands will be delivered to the manor tonight, and you will choose from those. You're dismissed."

Narcissa, who sat across from Draco, didn't say a word.

Hermione couldn't get comfortable. A whole new world had just opened before her eyes mere hours ago! Magic, wizards, and a school—it was too much. She'd bounced off the walls all day long, and of course, her parents were no help. Her father was fascinated, and her mother, while worried, couldn't be prouder that her daughter was selected for such a prestigious honor as wizarding school.

Hermione rolled over in her bed for the 17th time that evening, grinning from ear to ear. What would she learn at this magic school? What kind of history do wizards and witches claim? Who made the first potion? Who cast the first ever spell? What would the professors be like? Would they be kind, like her grade school math tutor? Would they be old and dusty, like the librarian in town? And her classmates! Would they thirst for knowledge? She dreamed of long talks with her new peers about the best ways to incorporate magic into one's everyday life. Were they all brand new to this, just like she was? Or did they already know about this mystical "Hogwarts", impatiently waiting all their lives for a letter just like hers?

She smiled in the soft darkness of her childhood bedroom, her heart pounding with nervous excitement. Hermione reached over to her nightstand and pulled a flower into her hand. It was a pressed mountain aven, native to the mountains in Scotland. She held it to her nose, and with a gentle inhale, her room was filled with golden haze, ageless trees stretching up to the sky, long grass tickling her ankles, and the smells—the smells were magical. Deep and woodsy, with a twinge of spice—thick, warm smells that filled her lungs almost to bursting.

Hermione couldn't remember a time in her life when she didn't have this flower. It was her first memory of holding the precious little thing close to her chest. She gently placed it back on the nightstand in its proper place and finally calmed down enough to go to sleep.

Nothing could possibly ruin this moment.

Draco couldn't get comfortable. His letter had come. After over a decade of nothing but his father, day in and day out, he was finally going to Hogwarts. He couldn't contain his excitement, and in the cold, dark room, he pulled the sheets over his head and dared to grin. It quickly took over his whole face as he let his mind run wild, thinking of everything he could do once the Hogwarts Express left King's Cross Station. He could eat as much chocolate as he wanted, with no one to reprimand him! He could nap if he wanted or stare aimlessly out the window and watch the mountains roll by, daydreaming. He could read his books or perhaps sit cross-legged. Or both!

He was about to be so many kilometers away from his father. His grin faded. What about the new litter? he wondered. What will the dogs do now that I'm gone? Will he hurt them? Surely not; the Great Danes bring in money. And what of the horses? Who will feed them and make sure they get enough exercise? Are there horses at Hogwarts?

As much as it hurt to admit it, Draco wanted to go to Hogwarts more than he cared about the wellbeing of the animals under his care. His father was unkind, yes, but stupid? No. No, Lucius would select only the best to care for his prized canines, and the horses were gifts for his mother; she would not let them go to waste.

If I'm beside myself with worry, he reasoned, I'll simply use the house elves to update me on news of the manor. And I'll be back for the holidays, so... He hadn't considered that. He would need to see his father at least once between September and May. But I'll be coming back. Lucius would never keep his son from Hogwarts.

Draco had finally contained his glee enough to drift into sleep.

Nothing could possibly ruin this moment.