Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Author's Note: This compilation of drabbles is pretty much about what ifs. What if Hermione and Draco met before Hogwarts? What if one loved the other? What if they had a future together? It's rated M for language and for later smut scenes, and it's under the Complete section because one chapter can stand on its own.

Don't be shy. Tell me what you think. I'll continuously edit each chapter to correct any grammatical errors and to help the story flow better.

Word count: 1,508

Hogwarts: A History

First Chance

I stepped out of Madam Malkin's, feeling quite accomplished for retrieving my first set of robes. Hogwarts. I was going to Hogwarts, where I can finally break free from the critical eyes of my father. Hogwarts, where I can finally learn all the spells and charms that would make me a wizard. Hogwarts, where I can finally find a home.

I peeked inside my bag, feeling a sense of glee at the sight of my new crisp, black, custom-made robes that I'm sure only the best money can buy. My mind wandered to the young bespectacled lanky lad that I encountered inside, who looked rather pitiful answering questions rather slowly. Poor bloke probably has brain damage.

I headed towards the shop my mother and father were, hoping I can bully them to buy me a broomstick so I can finally play Quidditch. However, the streets were bustling, and as I struggled to make my way through the crowd, I collided into someone that resembled a small brown bush. We fell down in a heap and our shopping bags scattered around us. Great.

"Oh no," the perpetrator moaned, mortified. I bit my tongue. Really? Is that all you can say? I was just about ready to scare the living daylights out of the bush when I caught sight of what was under all that frizz.

It was a young, petite girl around my own age. She was sprawled on the floor wearing a pink shirt with a kitten face embroidered on the front, a khaki skirt with white tights (that were now soiled), and pair of Mary Janes. I've never seen a girl dressed so...lively, that I was rendered speechless. But what had really captivated me were her peculiar hazel eyes that were currently apologetic.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. Please forgive me," she said, a rosy tint coloring her cheeks.

I shook my head to snap out of my stupor. "It's all right. That was completely my fault." It actually wasn't, but she seemed so flustered I decided to take pity and dismiss the incident. I can merely buy a second set of robes, anyway.

She stood up, gathering the books that littered the streets, and I watched with a bemused expression before a rather plump, toad-like lady approached me with an anxious face.

"Young Malfoy! Oh dear, are you all right?" She retrieved my bag, completely ignoring the young girl I was intent on focusing on. I stood up, dusted myself off, and gave her a curt nod, signaling her dismissal. She seemed not to have noticed, however. Daft woman.

"Is that all of it? Are you alone, sir?" Her words garbled into the background. "Would you like for me to accompany you through Diagon Alley?" God, this woman was thick. In more ways than one, too. And she was completely blocking my view of the girl...

"Yes, yes," I said, exasperated. I flicked my wrist and she finally got the hint and left, which was just in time to see the girl picking up her last book, stacking it in her heavy bag before counting them out loud. Bloody hell, she had a load of them.

"You do know you don't need that many books for Hogwarts, yes?" I asked, raising a brow, and suddenly, my heart began to palpitate—was this wondrous spectacle going to attend Hogwarts? Her eyes finally drifted astray from her pile and lit up when she noticed I was still standing there. Hm. She seemed to have forgotten I was still there. That's a first. Her lips went to an upward curve at my expression.

"Yes, I know, but they looked so interesting that I just HAD to buy them," she explained excitedly. Then, "Is that all you're going to bring to Hogwarts?" She asked, pointing towards my lonesome purchase. She seemed to have an intuitive mind—she was the only person who didn't ask me whether I was going to Hogwarts rather what I was bringing there. I nodded, hiding my impression, and she laughed.

"Oh, perhaps..." she rummaged through her stuff, then took out a very thick book and handed it to me. "It's Hogwarts: A History. It's my favorite book." I took the piece of literature from her and strained holding it up with just one hand. "You can have it. I wrote my name on it already, though, but I'm sure our Charms professor will teach us how to remove that. Think of it as my way of apologizing."

I blinked. Who WAS this girl?

Then, as if she was reading my mind, "I'm Hermione Granger." She reached out her hand, which I eagerly shook. She had soft hands. I hope she didn't notice how clammy my hands were.

"I'm—"

"Draco!" I turned, catching a glimpse of my parents as they caught sight of me and began heading towards me. The ocean of people scuffled out of their way, clearing a path for them. I froze the moment I saw my father's critical eyes sweeping over Hermione's form in contempt. That was never a good sign.

"Who is this?" He inquired, his voice cold and reproachful. My mother obediently stayed by his side, her eyes shifting to mine to give me a warning: Be careful.

"Mother, father," I cleared my throat, my voice caught, "This is Hermione Granger. I bumped into her—" Shit. I knew that that was the wrong thing to say as soon as it flew out of my mouth. My father's gray eyes darkened, glared daggers at her, and she was taken aback at the hostility that emanated from him.

"Oh?" He folded his arms, and I saw my mother's lips forming a tight line, staying silent. "And what have you got there, son?" He scorned, gesturing the novel I held to my chest.

Hermione's steady answer, "It's Hogwarts: A History, sir. I bought two copies and I thought your son would enjoy it as much as I do." Her voice had an edge to it, and I felt my heart thundering against my ribcage at her display of bravery.

"Are you a First-year at Hogwarts, Miss Granger?" My father sneered.

She didn't back down. Instead, she lifted her chin defiantly. "Yes."

"And where are your parents?" Not good.

"At home," she put simply, her gaze unwavering.

"You're alone?" He inched forward, almost hungrily at his next prey. She did not flinch.

"Yes. They're not wizards, you see."

My heart stopped. Shit.

It took a moment for my parents to compose themselves, then—"Y-you're a..." My father sputtered indignantly.

Shit. Shit. SHIT!

"We're leaving. Let's go, son," my mom ushered, urgent. She didn't want to cause a scene, and while father was known to be very composed, he also had a temper. She placed a tentative hand on his shaking form, whispering, "Come on, Lucius. People are staring." That was a lie, but my father seemed to have lost awareness of his surroundings, and my mother knew that my father was obsessed with upholding his image. With one last look of disdain, he latched his cold, vice-like fingers tightly around my mother's arms and sped off. I stood, frozen; I couldn't tear my eyes away from the brown-eyed wonder, who was staring back at me, perplexed and bewildered.

I wanted to explain myself to her; I wanted to explain to her that I was a Pureblood and that she was a Mudblood. That the two didn't, couldn't, mix. Ever. That I wasn't allowed to associate myself with filth like her. That we belonged to two separate worlds, and it was pure coincidence we ran into each other today. That our encounter would be the last time we would probably ever be civil to each other, and for that, I was sorry.

But instead, I tore my eyes away from her, clutched the heavy-bound book that Hermione Granger gave me tightly to my chest, and walked away.