Hello everyone!

I'm finally publishing my fanfiction, the one I'm most passionate about.

It's a Dramione that follows the plot of the books, from the 1st to the 7th. And I warn you in advance: it's going to be very long. I started it almost 6 months ago and I'm not even halfway through. I hope you'll enjoy it, I've put all my heart and energy into it!

Some indications before you start reading:

- This fanfiction is a long slow burn. Be prepared to wait a long time before the love story!

- The plot switches between two POVs, Hermione's and Draco's.

- This is a canon-compliant fanfic, meaning it follows the plot of the books. If I make a slight deviation from the canon, you will be warned at the beginning of the chapter. Obviously, I'm not taking all the canon passages from the book, only a few from another POV.

- The canon mixes the book and the movies. For example, the description of the characters is more in line with the actors than with the books (e.g. Narcissa's black hair streak), or some moments I have mixed between the film and the book.

- English is not my first language, so I write in French and then translate. If I make any spelling or syntax mistakes, I'd really appreciate it if you'd point them out to me in comments.

- I would always put TWs at the beginning of the chapter if needed. If you're not sensitive to that, I wouldn't recommend reading them, because they can give you a little spoilers of what's going to happen during the chapter.

- If I make any spelling mistakes or errors regarding the canon, please let me know in the comments so I can correct them. However, please don't ask me to change my story. It's my story, my characters, my headcanons. You can of course give criticism, but anyway, the story is already written, so I can't change anything about the next chapters!

- I haven't put all the ships in the tags, so I might update them as the chapters go by.

- I'll publish a chapter every Sunday at 8pm!

I sincerely hope you enjoy the story as much as I enjoy writing it. I spent many hours in dozens of libraries and cafes in London, where I lived for a year as an au pair. Now that I'm back in Paris, I'm going to keep writing so that I'm always way ahead of the chapters!

Enjoy your reading :)

And we start with the first chapter, before the first year...

1 : purple room and emerald letter

Draco

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.

"Draco? Dinner is served."

Narcissa Malfoy's voice reached him through the doorway of Draco's flats. "Coming," he muttered before tossing his Quidditch magazine onto the covers of his bed.

The Malfoy's had a whole lot of traditions and house rules that Draco didn't understand, and the fact that his mother never came into his chambers was one of them. It had been explained to him that it was a sign of respect, but Draco found it a bit sad, as if he was doomed to be alone all the time. Still, he didn't really have much to complain about, he had a huge bedroom with a four-poster bed that could easily hold four other people, an attached bathroom, and even a small living room. He left his room and entered the living room, which was occupied only by a few armchairs, a fireplace, a chessboard and a bookcase.

He took the time to stop in front of the mirror beside the door to check his appearance before going down to the dining room. It was another rule Draco's family honored every day: to be neat in appearance at all times, even at a simple family dinner.

He opened the double doors to his living room and descended the marble stairs of the Manor. His flats were on the top floor, so he had to go down a long way before he reached the dining room floor. He was looking forward to his Apparition test mainly for this reason.

It was rare enough that his mother would come and announce dinner to him, it was often his house elf, Dobby, who did it. Draco understood the reason for her visit when he looked around the room. The table was huge, it could easily hold thirty people around it and was almost the width of the room. Narcissa, his mother, was sitting at the end, right under one of the many chandeliers on the ceiling. Her mother was pale with dark eyes. Her hair was blonde in the candlelight of the chandelier, and contrasted with the brown streak that split her hair in two, a symbol of her native Black family. She did not glance at her son who had just entered the room, too busy staring at the reason for his strange behaviour. On the other side of the table stood Lucius Malfoy, Draco's father. He too had blonde hair, close to white as it was light, just like Draco's, and fell to his shoulders. His pale grey eyes fell on his son and he feigned a smile:

"Ah Draco... Come sit."

Draco nodded and took a seat in the middle of the table. They were so far apart that Draco had to turn his head completely left or right to see his parents. Narcissa was still looking at Lucius without a word. Draco often ate dinner with his mother, his father only came a few nights a week. He didn't know exactly what his father did on those days, the only thing he knew was that his father had a very important role in the wizarding world and spent a lot of time on committees, or at the Ministry of Magic. So it was quite rare for them to have dinner together, and added a heavier atmosphere to the already formal dinners at the Manor.

Lucius passed an examining eye over Draco, judging his hair and attire, but made no comment on his appearance.

"Dobby!" his mother suddenly hissed.

The little house elf entered the dining room, his long nose almost touching the floor as he was so bent over in his curtsy. He wore a stained pillowcase, the only dirty item in the Manor which was, like the appearance of its inhabitants, spotless.

"Dinner is served, mistress," the house elf squeaked before returning to the kitchen.

And indeed, as Draco looked down, he saw that the table was now filled with various dishes. Another Malfoy tradition was to wait patiently for the man of the house to eat first before they could help themselves, so Draco and his mother waited for Lucius to take his first bite before picking from the dishes on the table.

Draco's father spoke up:

"I spoke with Yaxley today, we discussed the value of the artifacts I wanted to sell, he gave me a pretty reasonable price..."

Draco almost immediately lost track of the conversation, the meaning of which he didn't really understand. He was relieved, his father seemed to be in a good mood. Draco looked at his mother, who kept her face impassive, neutral of any expressions, but he noticed that her shoulders relaxed when she heard Lucius speak and lowered her head to start eating. She must have been reassured too to hear her husband's calm voice. They could never predict if the evening would take a different turn, based solely on Lucius' waltzing moods.

Draco tackled his plate without saying a word, leaving his father to spout an endless stream of information to his wife. Over the years, Draco had learned not to ask questions when his father spoke at dinner parties, for he could be reprimanded by one of his parents immediately. Another Pureblood rule was to keep quiet during meals. Narcissa nodded as she listened intently to Lucius, who was now talking about one of the Ministry of Magic's employees.

Draco swallowed his cold soup in three spoonfuls, then helped himself to a bit of each dish that came his way without thinking about it. He couldn't wait to get up from the table. Lulled by his father's voice, he wandered into his own thoughts without realising it.

He flinched when his father called him out:

"Draco! Did you learn what I asked you?"

He nodded slowly. His father had given him a long ancient scroll three days before, and ordered him to learn all the names on it. Draco had looked at it for a long time, analyzing the branches of the tree drawn intertwined, above which were written many names, and portraits of his ancestors. His father had explained to him that this was his lineage, and that it was imperative that he learn each name and relationship as soon as possible. Draco hoped his father wasn't going to question him right there at the dinner table, because when he met his father's gaze, he was suddenly transfixed and all the names blurred together in his mind.

"Yes Father." he said quickly.

"That's fine." he replied as he cut his meat. "You're going to need it, if you study at Hogwarts in September. It's very important that you remember your place in your lineage, your importance, and that you carry your name with pride."

Draco puffed out his chest at this, suddenly much more confident. Providing his father with any joy in his regard made him very proud. He'd rather see him pleased with his son than pissed off, Draco was so afraid of his father's mood swings.

As Lucius continued his monologue, Draco thought back to the family tree. Now that his father's icy gaze was no longer on him, he could remember the branches of his family. There were the Blacks on his mother's side and the Malfoy line on the other. But with each name above his parents', the branches of the tree split and showed other names, like the Lestrange, the Nott, the Gaunt, the Rosier, which Draco unintentionally mixed up. Some branches were so intertwined that Draco struggled to understand the connections between some of his ancestors, and many had children by being cousins, which confused him even more.

When he had tried to learn the parchment by heart as his father had instructed, he had also noticed that some of the portraits had been burned, creating several black holes in the paper. By squinting, Draco had been able to decipher some of the names of those who had been banished, but he had quickly given up. He already had too many names to take in to even bother learning the useless ones. Besides, as soon as he focused on one of the scratched portraits on the tree, he had looked away, as if the parchment was now burning his retinas, as if the portraits would suddenly banish him from his own family, too.

Draco finished his meal and drank his glass of water in one gulp, which Dobby had materialized in front of his plate. Deeply bored, he listened with one ear to his father, waiting to find a moment of silence to speak. He felt as if Lucius was spouting off names of important purebloods at once, and it reminded him of the battered scroll he'd been working on for the past three days.

When Lucius paused briefly in his narrative to take a sip of his wine, Draco took the opportunity to ask:

"Can I leave the table? Pansy's waiting for me outside and..."

Lucius raised a hand and swept it carelessly through the air to dismiss him briefly. Draco jumped out of his chair and left the table without finishing his sentence, leaving his dirty plate on the table. The vermin will take care of it.

He walked through the entrance hall of the Manor where he glanced at the huge clock that read almost 8pm. He walked around the stairs to the door to the courtyard, which he opened and closed discreetly behind him. He felt a light summer breeze caress his face as he hurried through the perfectly mown grass of his garden to the fountain. The sun was gently setting behind the pinkish clouds and the only sound he could hear was that of the water in the fountain flowing after swirling through the air.

Pansy came in from the right of his field of vision. Draco knew her so well that he could draw her face by mentally remembering her features without difficulty. Pansy had inky black hair, large dark eyes and porcelain skin. She was so pale that she stood out against the sunset behind her, like a pale spot on the horizon. Her large charcoal eyes were fixed on Draco, and her hair was held back by a black headband, which she removed. It fell gracefully around her face in a perfectly smooth bob.

"Right on time!" she chanted as Draco approached.

He smiled and reached her height. They both lay down on the grass, as they did every night. Pansy rolled up her long black dress that she often wore when she was at home and tossed the headband into the grass. He knew she didn't like wearing it and that she was just doing it to look good for her father because whenever she went out, she always rushed to undo her hair.

"My dinner was so long, I thought it was never going to end." she said as she stared at the sky above her.

"Me too."

"Did your father tell you about the family tree?"

Draco shrugged.

"He just asked me if I'd learned it right, luckily he didn't ask me any names."

Pansy nodded. She had helped him learn the names of the purebreds the day before. They didn't speak for a long while, but the silences were never uncomfortable with Pansy. Draco liked spending time with her because he knew her so well that everything became easier, he could really relax, there were no stupid rules or traditions to keep. They could just spend hours together side by side without getting in each other's way.

"I saw Daphne today." said Pansy, cutting the silence. "She's having a good summer, she's going to France with her parents in August. I told her to come and see us before then, but I don't know if she'll have time. She still hasn't received her letter."

Draco turned his face to Pansy, the grass tingling on his cheek:

"What about you, did you get it?" he asked.

"No."

Draco was reassured and turned his head to the sky again. Every day since the first of July they had been asking themselves the same question, too eager to get that letter they had been waiting for since they had learned about Hogwarts. Draco knew he was a wizard, he had never doubted his status, he had felt the magic boiling in his veins since he was five years old. But he couldn't help but look out the window every morning in the hope that an owl would bring him that famous letter, the letter that would officially start his life.

"It shouldn't be long now," Pansy repeated, as she did every night.

Another silence enveloped them as the sun disappeared and the garden was slowly plunged into darkness.

Draco couldn't remember exactly when these dates with Pansy in his garden had started, he was so used to it that he couldn't really remember when their friendship had officially begun. As far as he was concerned, they had always been friends, partly because their two families had been together since they were little, and partly because she was his neighbour. Her house was right behind Draco's, separated only by a hedge that Pansy easily stepped over to join him in his garden. She had come every summer evening, it was Draco's favourite time of the day.

They had known each other since they were children. They'd gone to pre-Hogwarts prep school together, attended the same Pureblood dinners, and spent most days and nights together. She was his very best friend.

"Look!" said Pansy suddenly, pointing to a part of the starry sky. "That's Draco's constellation!"

Draco squinted his eyes trying to find the indicated shape among the billions of stars.

"I don't see it," he grumbled. "Do you think we'll have Astronomy classes at Hogwarts?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"I'm going to be rubbish, I can't even see my own constellation. Will you make me study?"

Pansy gave a small laugh and nodded. Then, out of nowhere, a crease formed on her forehead, as if she was suddenly gripped by a great thought.

"Draco...?"

"Yes?"

"What if we don't go to Slytherin?"

Draco suddenly turned his head towards her, offended :

"What? How could you even think that?"

Pansy shrugged vaguely into the grass, looking as concerned as ever. Draco had a feeling she'd already thought about the possibility that she'd gone out to the wrong House and the question had probably been burning in her mind for quite some time.

"Are you sure you'll get out of Slytherin, you?" she asked in a small voice.

"Of course I am! All the Malfoys and Blacks went to Slytherin, so I'll definitely be there. And so will you. How can you think otherwise?"

"I don't know, I was just wondering..."

"No, there's no point in wondering that. We'll be in Slytherin, that's all, there's no other way."

Pansy didn't answer and they turned their faces skyward again without a word. Draco's thoughts were still swirling after her question: was it possible that he wasn't going to the right House? What would his parents do if he did? He remembered his father telling him about the values of Slytherin and how important it was to his family. Just the thought of him being sent somewhere else made him break out in a cold sweat. Fortunately, Pansy didn't broach the subject again and just stared at the sky until the garden was pitch black.

Hermione

.

.

"Hermione? Can you come downstairs please?"

"Coming!"

Hermione finished putting away her small desk next to her bed and stepped away slightly to look at her tidy room: she had just spent the afternoon changing the placement of the furniture. Her white bed was now stuck against the wall and a large bookcase that she and her mother had bought earlier in the day took up most of one side of her room. She had pushed her desk so that it was right under the window. She dusted the sheets on her bed one last time, satisfied, and then walked down the stairs of her house to join her parents.

They were already sitting at the small round dining room table with their tea set. Hermione's father, John, was a typical English man. He was of medium height, and his face was constantly twisted into a comforting smile. His hair was the same brown colour as Hermione's, and his head was slightly bald. Hermione's mother, Rachel, had darker hair than her husband and daughter, but they both looked similar, right down to their thin noses which were exactly the same shape.

She sat down opposite them:

"I've finished tidying up! I've moved everything around, so my room looks brand new for my first day at school."

Hermione met her parents' eyes and was surprised to see that they looked worried.

"Is everything okay?" she asked.

Hermione's mother took the teapot to fill Hermione's cup while her father coughed a little before handing her an envelope.

"This letter came for you." he said simply.

Hermione took the envelope and felt that it was heavy, the paper looked old. She vaguely wondered if it could be from her friend Mary who was on holiday in France during the summer, but changed her mind when she saw the handwriting which did not look like hers. The letters were thin, well drawn, and coloured a deep emerald green. Hermione realised that it wasn't a stationery envelope, but an ancient parchment one. She frowned and read the address on it:

"Hermione Granger,

In the Purple Room,

8 Heathgate, Hampstead Garden,

London."

She widened her eyes and turned the letter to see the sender's name, but there was nothing written.

"Who could have sent this?" asked Hermione.

"We were wondering the same thing," replied her mother.

"And the strangest thing... this letter was brought by an owl." continued her father.

"An owl?!"

Both her parents nodded. Hermione looked down at the envelope, torn between curiosity and fear. She opted for curiosity and tore open the envelope. Inside were three sheets. She took the first one and read it aloud:

"Dear Miss Hermione Granger,

We are delighted to inform you that you have been enrolled in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Please take note of this list of school supplies in order to obtain all the necessary materials for this school year.

The first day of school is September 1st. The Hogwarts Express will leave at 11am sharp from King's Cross Station.

We look forward to teaching you this year,

Yours sincerely,

Professor Minerva McGonagall,

Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Hermione took the second sheet of paper and found the list of requested school supplies. Her eyes only had time to skim over a few words like 'cauldron' and 'wand' before she looked up at her parents. They looked as confused as she did.

"What is this?" she asked.

"I have no idea."

"'Hogwarts'? Have you ever heard of that school?"

"No, it doesn't ring a bell," her father confided. "Maybe it's a scam, or a bad joke."

"But how can they know her name?" asked Hermione's mother, concerned. "Or the colour of her room?"

They remained silent, all three of them staring at the papers spread out on the table as if they were going to start talking to explain them. Hermione didn't like the silence, so she took the third sheet and read it aloud:

"A personality from Hogwarts will come and speak to you personally if there are any questions, given your Muggle (non-wizarding) heritage. This person will meet you at your home tomorrow, 25th July 1991 at 5pm sharp. Thank you in advance for your time."

She put the parchment down again, still as confused as before. Who could these letters be from? She looked up at her parents again, and tried to smile to lighten the mood:

"It's probably a scam, maybe a joke from my friends at school."

Her parents smiled, but still looked confused. As she sipped her tea, Hermione's mind was racing and she found her heart beating a little too fast. Why was she so excited about this letter?

"We'll know tomorrow at five," her mother said to end the conversation. "If a witch arrives on a broomstick to give you a wand, we'll know it wasn't a joke!"

The three of them laughed at this, and Hermione wondered if they too were trying to persuade themselves not to believe it.

Draco

.

.

Draco didn't need to cast his usual glance towards the window in the hope of seeing an owl that morning. The letter he had been waiting for for years was lying against his glass of pumpkin juice. He rushed into the dining room when he saw it, and his mother looked across the table at him with a fond smile.

"Well done Draco, I'm very proud of you."

He thanked her with a nod and quickly tore up the parchment. He read the entire letter, once, twice, three times, before putting it down and sitting down to eat breakfast. He couldn't hide the smile on his face: he was going to go to Hogwarts, he'd been waiting for it for so long. He knew he would be accepted, but having his letter in his hands only confirmed and ended his wait. He released a sigh of relief compressed in his chest that he didn't know he had and began to cut up his eggs with bacon.

"To celebrate, how about a day with me? I've got nothing to do today, how would you like to go for a walk with me in London?"

"Alright!"

Narcissa smiled contentedly. She returned to her reading, hiding behind the huge newspaper in her hands, entitled "Daily Prophet". Draco recognized the Minister of Magic from the picture on the cover, who was waving to a crowd in the lobby of the Ministry with a big smile. Uninterested in politics, especially on such an extraordinary day, he simply bowed his head over his meal and asked Dobby to pour him a second pumpkin juice while he waited for his mother to finish her article.

Once they had both finished eating, Draco and his mother put on their traveling capes and walked to the end of the Malfoy Manor driveway. Draco was used to this kind of escapade with his mother, they often went to various places in town to visit or shop, so he wasn't surprised when Narcissa held out her arm for him to Apparate with her. He clutched his mother's wrist and felt the effects of the Apparition squeeze his throat and stretch his entire body in a black spiral, before landing hard on the cobblestones of Diagon Alley.

He'd apparated with his parents many times since he was young, but that didn't stop Draco from finding it very unpleasant. He shook his head, feeling the last of the dizziness leave his head before focusing on the street in front of him. It was mostly empty, only a few passersby were walking down the sunny street and a few Hogwarts students were looking in the windows of the various shops.

"We're not going to buy your school supplies today, Draco, we'll do that in a few days, is that alright?" his mother asked as she took off her dragon skin gloves.

Draco nodded and began to walk alongside his mother. They went first to the bookstore where they bought the books he wanted, then to a potion shop for Narcissa to buy some of the ingredients they were missing. As they left the shop, Narcissa said:

"To congratulate you on your acceptance to Hogwarts, you can have a present. What would you like?"

Draco didn't hesitate for a second and headed for the Quidditch accessories shop. He entered the shop and called out to one of the shop assistants:

"Do you have the Nimbus 2000?"

The saleswoman widened her eyes slightly at his tone, but she deflected her gaze to Narcissa who was standing behind him and made no comment.

"No, unfortunately they won't arrive for a few days."

Draco turned to his mother who placed a hand on his shoulder:

"There are no other broomsticks you'd like?"

Draco walked over to the shelves of brooms and looked at the ones on display. He was passionate about Quidditch, it was what made him happiest in the world. Ever since he was a little boy he had been fascinated by the different brooms and now knew all about their properties from the books and magazines he had read. He took a few minutes to look at all the brooms, then pointed to the one in front of him:

"I want that one."

Narcissa nodded. The saleswoman unhooked the Comet 260 and walked over to the shop's cash register to cash them in. She looked quite young, this was probably her first job after finishing Hogwarts. She had two small buns around her head with some loose strands of hair sticking out.

Draco couldn't see his mother from where he was standing, but he had no trouble guessing her wrinkled nose and tight lips from the salesgirl's hairstyle.

Her mother hated eccentricities of any kind, especially from people she didn't know. She spent most of her time judging the appearances of the people around her and openly criticizing them whenever she was in the company of someone, like Draco, Lucius or any Pureblood friend she came across.

"That's a very good choice, the Comet 260!" explained the shop girl, who hadn't noticed the look on Narcissa's face. "It takes a lot of speed going uphill, it's perfect for Quidditch."

"I know." cut in Draco with a smug tone. "I read all about it in this month's issue of the magazine."

The shop girl looked at Draco for a few seconds while packing the broom.

"Are you in your first year at Hogwarts?"

"I'll be there in September." he said, puffing out his chest, proud.

"My congratulations." the shop girl said with a smile. "I finished last year, I was in Hufflepuff." (Narcissa stifled a mocking laugh behind Draco, but the shop girl still ignored her.)

"On the Quidditch team?"

Even though Draco had no desire to be in Hufflepuff, he was still very interested in the sport and only wanted to watch a game, and maybe even join the team while he was in school.

The shop girl nodded.

"Yes, Keeper. Hopefully you can become one too."

"First years aren't allowed to bring their brooms," Draco grumbled.

He'd read the sentence several times under his school supply list, so disappointed had he been.

The shop assistant shrugged and handed him the package from Comet 260 over the counter:

"That's okay, you can practice with this in the meantime!"

Draco took the packet without thanking her and walked out of the shop with his mother. As soon as they were back in the Diagon Alley, he exclaimed:

"A Comet 260! Blaise is going to be so jealous when I get home!"

Draco loved this, being able to brag to his friends, it gave him a sense of confidence. He knew it could be seen as arrogance, but he didn't care. He couldn't wait to see his best friend's disappointed face when he showed him his new broom. Narcissa smiled in satisfaction:

"Good for you."

"I'll try it out today."

"Whatever makes you happy, Draco."

Hermione

.

.

Even though no one in the house dared to talk about the mysterious letter again, the tension was growing as the hours ticked by. Hermione noticed that her parents tended to glance at the clock in the living room, perhaps to calculate the remaining hours before 5pm, just as she did unconsciously. During lunch, none of them mentioned the letter again, as if to feign forgetfulness, but Hermione knew that all three of them were thinking the same thing.

Hermione's logical mind forced her to think that it was wrong, that it was just a bad joke or a mistake. She knew that there was no such thing as magic, and that wizards belonged in the realm of fiction. Hermione had read hundreds of books in her short life, and many of them were about fairy tales or witchcraft, and even as a child she knew that there was no such thing. So why did her heart beat abnormally in her chest whenever she thought of that letter?

There was something about those scrolls that made it more... real. Perhaps the fact that the paper was old, or the handwriting so well done, or the serious list of supplies. There was something that made Hermione say, deep down, what if? What if someone came knocking on my door and told me I was a witch? What if Hogwarts really existed?

Hermione had had strange experiences before, when she had felt emotions too strong. In primary school she had burnt the hair of a naughty girl, Cassandra, who had stolen another girl's snack. Poor Cassandra had spent the next two months with a cap screwed on her head in the middle of June to hide the gaping hole in her head.

Another time Hermione had refused to climb a mountain on a hike with her parents because she was afraid of heights, and when her parents had insisted, she had been literally pinned down. No matter how hard her father tried to move her, to lift her into the air, Hermione had remained resolutely stuck to the ground for no reason, even after the fire brigade had intervened. It was only late in the evening, when night had fallen and her parents had abandoned the hike that Hermione had managed to move again.

All these incidents had been blamed on unexplained scientific phenomena, but she had known that it was she who had caused them. Hermione had always been certain of this, she had always thought she had superpowers. And her parents believed it too, even though they always tried to justify her strange behaviour with rational explanations.

That was probably why her parents seemed to jump every time they heard a noise on the landing. Maybe they too were wondering what was going to happen at five o'clock.

Hermione spent the day pretending to read, often rereading the same lines without realising it as her mind wandered. She imagined herself entering Hogwarts to learn magic. Every time she walked past, Hermione looked at the letter on the open kitchen counter and felt her hands grow sweaty.

At 4:50 Hermione was lying on the sofa in the living room with a book on her chest, although she would have been unable to describe the plot even if her life depended on it. Her mother was knitting a garment next to her, but her usually impeccable work was messy, with shifting stitches that made the jumper under her hands completely shapeless. Hermione's father was reading the paper, looking at his wife sideways, looking worried. Hermione no longer looked at the clock in the living room, hoping that if she ignored it, the minutes would pass more quickly.

At five o'clock sharp, Hermione could feel her heart pounding in her throat as she was so stressed. Her legs were almost shaking, she was waiting for a sign, anything, but nothing happened. She heard the clock continue to tick away as if nothing had happened, and she felt a sting of disappointment painfully pierce her chest as she realised that what she had been fantasising about yesterday was never going to happen. She hid her frustration by going back to reading, when suddenly three knocks on the door startled them.

All three of them stood up hurriedly, looking haggard. They looked at each other, as if waiting for someone to open the door, and when she understood that neither of her parents wanted to go, Hermione went into the hall, followed by her two parents who were as silent as ever. All she could hear was the frantic beating of her own heart against her eardrums, her stomach contracting from the stress. She took the handle in her trembling hand and opened the front door.

Hermione and her two parents behind her came face to face with a woman. At a glance, anyone could have seen that she was not at all from the same world as them. She was wearing a long emerald green dress, and a black cloak over it. Her clothes could have been considered "normal" if she didn't have a long, pointed, black hat on her head. Her hair was pulled back and hidden under her hat. When she looked at Hermione and her parents, her stern features broke down into a small polite smile.

"Good evening. You must be Hermione Granger? And you, Mr. and Mrs. Granger, I presume? I'm Professor Minerva McGonagall. May I come in?"