A/N: As always, the biggest thanks goes out to my wonderful beta I was BOTWP. I am a better writer because of you.

Hermione Granger had always been an awkward child. She was not shy by any means, and was definitely not known for holding her tongue. She never had friends because she always seemed to say the wrong things at the wrong time. Plus, her "affliction" didn't help. She was schooled by private tutors, as she'd never been able to stay in a regular school due to her frequent doctor visits and hospital stays.

Hope for Hermione came in the form of a severe-looking woman with shrewd eyes and a pointy hat who showed up at her doorstep three days after her eleventh birthday. Hermione Granger was a witch. Her affliction was due to accidental magic manifesting and breaking loose. Hermione had never been so relieved in her life.

Her parents had scoffed, as properly educated adults often do, but Hermione had listened to Professor McGonagall's explanations carefully and with open ears, nodding seriously in all the right places. It all fit. She was a witch, and determined to be the best witch anyone had ever heard of.

Her first trip to Diagon Alley had not come soon enough for Hermione. She had practically sprinted through the archway, dragging her parents and Professor McGonagall behind her. She'd rushed through the essentials. Who cared about robes and fancy quill tips? Not Hermione. She picked out all of the basics, then finally came time for the books.

Flourish and Blotts was the most beautiful place she'd ever encountered. Books of all shapes, sizes, and colors peeked out at her from the shelves just begging to be picked up and explored. Here, finally, she took her time. Hermione explored every floor and aisle, lovingly stroking spines, and turning pages with reverence. Her parents knew she would be eager to learn all that she could, as always, and had told Hermione to get anything she wanted, though within reason of course. It was there on her very first entrance to her new world, and in the most magical place of all (at least in her mind), that she'd first met Draco Malfoy.

Her stack of books was already almost as tall as herself, but she was dawdling over three more sizable tomes, and wondering which one she should add to her pile, when suddenly there was a God-awful screech from the next aisle. Hermione turned to see what could possibly make that horrible racket, and in a bookstore of all places, when an orange blur streaked past her, toppling her and her books to the floor.

"Ugh!" she'd cried. Brushing her mass of frizz from her face, she'd slowly picked herself up off of the floor, praying that none of her hopefully new friends had seen her fall.

"Some people just don't know how to behave in public," a boy's voice had said. "Honestly, no class at all. Here. Let me help you."

"Thank you," she'd answered back politely, trying to show that she at least could act properly. "I'm Hermione Granger, by the way. I'll be starting at Hogwarts this year. And you?"

Hermione had looked up to meet a silvery gaze, much too intense for an eleven year old boy. He had slicked back blonde hair, and a very pointy chin. He was also dressed in those funny robes that the wizards seemed to favor for some reason,and somehow she could tell his robes were of good quality. She hoped he wouldn't think her jeans looked dowdy.

The boy gave her a quick once over as he reached out a hand. "Draco Malfoy. You've probably heard of my family. That is, well, your parents may have dealings with them. Your parents are magical, are they not?"

She saw something pass across his face, something that Professor McGonagall had not prepared her for, though Hermione instinctively knew that her answer was somehow important. "My parents? Well-"

"Draco, dear, it's time to go." A beautiful blonde woman that could only be Draco's mother approached, her arms delicately clutching a few books. "Come on, darling. Your father has finished at the counter."

Draco rolled his eyes towards Hermione in a mutual sign of annoyed preteens everywhere when their parents interrupted. "Hermione, it was nice to meet you. I look forward to seeing you on the train."

"Likewise, Draco," Hermione replied with a bright smile. She'd done it. She'd made her first new friend in the magical world, and he was cute to boot. Things were definitely looking up for Hermione Granger.

Fast forward ten years. Draco Malfoy, whom she had thought once upon a time would be her first real friend, was now snarling at her with the remnants of ice cold lemonade and Pimm's dripping from his face. Gone were the cute smiles, and polite handshakes of yesteryear.

"You stupid, filthy little-"

"Go ahead, Malfoy, say it!" Hermione spat. "That name doesn't hurt me anymore!"

His wand was clasped tightly in his hand, and pointed straight at her. She too had her wand trained on him, pleased to see a slight shiver from him as he eyed her steady grip.

"Scared, Malfoy?" Hermione smirked.

"Of you? Hardly." He sneered. "No, Granger, it's that wand that freaks me out. Why do you even still have that thing?"

Well, that was a hit to her ego. "Well, Malfoy, you may recall that my wand was taken from me the same day that I was nearly tortured to death in your family's home."

"Tortured with that wand you're holding now," Malfoy said plainly. "Again I ask, why on earth do you still use it?"

Hermione gave a small shrug, never once losing focus. "I never got mine back. Besides, once Bellatrix died, the wand accepted me. It's worked fine for me ever since."

Draco had flinched at Hermione's casual mention of his psychotic aunt's death, but had otherwise maintained his composure. The duelists stood there calmly eyeing each other, wands extended, yet almost unsure how to proceed. The situation became exceedingly more awkward with each passing second.

"If you don't plan on dueling to the Death, could you please sit down?" Blaise finally asked in his usual dry tone. "You're blocking my view."

Hermione's wand lowered an inch. "Duel to the death? I don't actually want to kill you, Malfoy."

"Even with as annoying as you are, no, I don't feel the need to kill you," he said, lowering his own wand several inches.

"So what do you propose we do?" Hermione asked, relaxing her own fighting stance.

"I just want you gone. Not dead, just gone." Malfoy reached up to mop the sweat from his brow as his wand hand dropped to his side. "I want to enjoy what's left of this day with my friends without you sniping at me every time I speak."

Hermione tried not to let his words sting as she finally saw the uncomfortable faces surrounding her. Once again, she'd been a victim of her mouth spouting off all of the wrong things. She suddenly missed her own friends with a vengeance. She hoped the hurt didn't creep into her voice when she asked, "May I take Daphne with me? I am here on her invitation after all."

Malfoy shrugged. "That's up to Daphne, not me."

"Daphne?" Hermione looked to her friend with pleading eyes.

"I'd be pleased to walk around with you for a bit," Daphne said, already climbing to her feet.

The two witches gathered their drinks and handbags, opting to leave the picnic basket behind until they returned, considering Malfoy had cooled down of course. They walked away in silence, sipping on their lemonade as they strolled to the vendor booths.

"We may still be able to make a few contacts," Daphne said with fake cheer.

Hermione sighed. "I don't even care anymore."

"Oh come on! Yes, that was… bad, but we can't let it ruin the whole day! Think of the house-elves that are depending on you!"

"Daphne, am I a bad person?" Hermione asked, stopping the blonde with a gentle hand to her arm. "I mean, what just happened… that was so unlike me. And Malfoy said some things that really hurt."

"We haven't really known each other long enough for me to make sweeping judgements like whether or not you're a bad person," Daphne said. "I think that based on what I know so far, you're a good person who just gets caught up in the moment. And as for what Draco said, well, you said some pretty hurtful things yourself."

Hermione groaned. "I know, I know! That's what has me so worried! Am I just as prejudiced as I've always believed the purebloods and Slytherins to be?"

"Hermione, no one has a claim on prejudice," Daphne said. "But those kinds of statements are not okay."

"What? What kinds of statements?"

"Well, saying that you believe all purebloods and Slytherins are prejudiced," Daphne answered. "I mean, do you I think I'm prejudiced? Do you think I hate every Muggle-born with a fiery passion, and want to see them banished from the earth?"

"No, of course not, but-"

"But I'm a Slytherin!" Daphne continued. "And a pureblood to boot! So, if you don't believe me to be prejudiced, why make such generalizations?"

"Because-"

"Is that what they taught you in the Gryffindor common room?" Daphne pressed on. "That all purebloods and Slytherins are these awful racists?"

"No-"

"And what about your friends the Weasleys?" she asked. "They're pureblood. Did they ever treat you as less than themselves?"

Hermione shook her head.

"So where did this attitude come from?"

"Malfoy," Hermione hissed.

"What?" Daphne looked around thinking the blonde man was approaching, based on the venom in Hermione's voice.

"He taught me that I wasn't welcome in your world," Hermione said.

"It's your world too," Daphne soothed. "It has been for years, you made sure of that years ago. You need to realize that."

The two witches began walking again, and Hermione pondered over Daphne's words. When she'd first learned that she was a witch, she'd promised herself that she'd be the best witch the magical world had ever seen. She'd done that, hadn't she? Hadn't she earned her rightful place, paid her dues? Daphne seemed to think so, and Hermione found herself agreeing. She'd shed her blood on the battlefield alongside many purebloods. She'd cast many spells, worked harder than anyone, just to prove herself… to whom? Herself? Or to the little pointy-faced blonde boy who'd asked about her parentage with a slight sneer within the first five minutes of meeting her?

"I know what I have to do," Hermione said, determined. "I have to talk to Malfoy."

"Oh, honey, are you sure that's wise right now?"

Hermione gave her a fierce nod. "Yes, it's time he acknowledges that I'm a part of this world, whether he likes it or not."

"Okay, fine, but on one condition," Daphne said, reaching into her handbag. "Take this first."

"Calming draught? Do you always keep calming draught in your purse?"

"Well, yes. One never knows when they'll need one, and I like to be prepared." Daphne shoved the bottle into Hermione's hand. "I just don't want you getting all caught up in another fight. Please."

"Okay," Hermione said, and uncorked the bottle. "Bottoms up."