Chapter 6

Hogwarts was perfect. If Hermione had thought that last night had been great, her first day of school completely blew it out of the running. It were the classes that did it. They were amazing. She still didn't have any friends. The students of her house had clotted tightly together and had left her out of the equation, so she was still mostly alone – she always ended up sitting at the front of the class with only her bag to keep her company – but that hardly dimmed her spirits.

Learning about something she knew absolutely nothing off was exhilarating – As it turned out, she did know far more than her peers though. Apparently being born into a magical family by no means guaranteed a head start at Hogwarts and she was by far the most prepared. She answered every question posed – Hermione was ashamed to admit she couldn't always wait for the teacher to call on her before she blurted the answer out – and managed to score quite the amount of house points while doing so. Judging by the nasty/awe filled looks the Ravenclaws threw her and her own calculations, Hermione was fairly certain she had Slytherin taking the lead for the House Cup already. Something she was sure her fellow Slytherins would appreciate.

Speaking of those, Hermione had gained additional evidence to support her hypothesis that out of all her peers Draco Malfoy would indeed make the best friend. While she had previously noted that he would open doors for her to other friends, she could now also appreciate the confident way he held himself. It was probably what drew all those knuckleheads to him. Besides – most important of all – Draco had proven his intelligence and talent to her during their double Transfigurations.

When professor McGonagall – who was still giving her reprehensive looks – forced her to give others a chance at answering and called on him, Draco answered her correctly, completely and precisely. Much like Hermione herself predesigned her answers in her head. The platinum haired boy had also managed to finish their assignment – turning a wooden match into a silver needle – seconds after Hermione herself did so. It was obvious Draco was her best bet.

Now she simply had to figure out a way to either convince him of or trick him into becoming friends with her. Hermione pondered a bit on it in between classes but entered double Potions with the Gryffindors without any new ideas. Sometimes though life just throws you a bone.

The potions classroom was cold, a few chills colder than the rest of the dungeons. Made up entirely of shades of black with at the end of the room a cupboard gull of mysterious jars - Was that an eyeball? - the air of the room kept the Slytherins and even some of the Gryffindors from laughing and joking around as they had in the hallway, even though Snape was nowhere to be seen. Some, because you always have that one idiot who simply does not know when to shut up. It seemed in Gryffindor that person was Ronald Weasley.

Oh, he tried to be quiet. Apparently, his brothers had warned him that professor Snape didn't allow any voices but his own during his class and that he had it in for Gryffindors. Hermione knew this because he practically shouted it to the boy he had glued himself to.

Thus, the lesson hardly went off to a good start. What with Hermione alternating between pursing her lips and physically biting her tong to keep from pointing out how contradictory his words and actions were.

Professor Snape walked into the classroom bristling, sneering, with his black robes swirling behind him wings. Hermione sat a bit straighter, determined to ignore the idiot Gryffindors in the classroom and focus all het attention on learning. Unfortunately, her hopes for a learning-focused class were dashed as, during the roll call, the professor paused.

"Ah, yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new — celebrity."

Draco Malfoy and his friends Crabbe and Goyle sniggered behind their hands. Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His eyes were black, truly like a bat. They were cold and empty and reminded Hermione of a dark tunnel with no end.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but she caught every word — like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses. … I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death — if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

I am not a dunderhead. Hermione sat on the edge of her seat, twirling her pen around as to have it at the ready for when she could start taking notes. All teachers were important, but professor Snape was her Head of House and thus stood a little above the rest. She would not have him thinking her dumb.

"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Hermione's hand had shot into the air. Yes! She knew this one! Nevertheless, the professor continued to stare at the Boy-Who-Lived.

"I don't know, sir," said Harry.

Snape's lips curled into a sneer.

"Tut, tut — fame clearly isn't everything." He ignored Hermione's hand. "Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Hermione stretched her hand as high into the air as it would go without her leaving her seat. Had the professor just not seen her? Behind her she could vaguely hear Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle shaking with laughter and prayed to God it was because of Potter's idiocy instead of her own eagerness.

"I don't know, sir," said Harry. Hermione could hear him gritting his teeth and felt worried in his stead. He wasn't stupid enough to talk back to a teacher, was he? Especially a no-nonsense one like professor Snape.

The professor seemed to enjoy Potter's rising anger though, his lips twisting into a smirk. "Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?"

The professor was still ignoring her quivering hand and frankly it was taking everything in her not to just blurt the answers out.

"What is the difference," Snape demanded, eyes gleaming, "Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching toward the dungeon ceiling. By God, would he just call on her, so they could leave this all behind them!

"I don't know," said Harry quietly, staring defiantly into the professor's black eyes. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?"

People laughed, and Hermione became aware of her surroundings again. They were laughing at her. Her arm succumbed to gravity and lowered out of its own accord as shame carried a blush to her cheeks.

"Sit down," the professor snapped at her, so focused on Potter that it sounded almost like an afterthought and the laughter intensified.

Hermione crumbled into her chair, glaring at her desk as she tried to keep her face stoic as stone.

"For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. Over the noise, Snape said, "And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter."

Harry Potter was obviously fuming as he glared at his desk but thankfully he stayed silent this time and the class could commence. The professor divided the entire class into pairs of two. Hermione had gotten Tracy for a partner, which was nice. She didn't really speak, just looked at her for instructions really and then carried them out, but she could have gotten worse. Imagine if she had gotten Pansy for a partner.

Hermione learned something quickly during that class. Potions was hard. Unlike the previous classes which mostly required theoretical knowledge, potions was more of skill than anything else. Cut the ingredients wrong, or badly, and the potion loses potency. Considering that she only had a limited amount of ingredients and wasn't allowed to start again every time an ingredient was less than perfect because otherwise she wouldn't finish by the end of the class, Hermione felt that she performed less than stellar.

She still managed to get a passing nod of approval from the professor – which promptly made her forgive him for the embarrassment she had led partly by his hand –, but she wasn't the star pupil this time. That honor went to Draco Malfoy. The platinum haired boy chopped ingredients as if he had done it a thousand times before. Frankly there was an even bored look on his face – as she had noted was on there during most classes. Hermione tried not to be bitter. After all this was why she wanted to befriend him, wasn't it? Because he was not – as professor Snape had so eloquently put it – a dunderhead.

Still Hermione couldn't say she wasn't a tiny bit pleased when Snape's loud praise of the perfect way Malfoy had stewed his horned slugs was interrupted by clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filling the dungeon. All attention went to Neville whose potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes. Quickly Hermione jumped onto her stool, urging Tracy to do the same, and within a minute everyone had followed her example.

Hermione grimaced as she noticed that Neville had gotten drenched with his faulty potion and red, angry boils started to spring up on his arms and legs. Her grimace deepened even more when the professor noticed as well.

"Idiot boy!" snarled professor Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Neville whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose.

"Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at his Gryffindor partner. Then he rounded on Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, who had been working next to Neville.

"You — Potter — why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor."

Which wasn't fair. Hermione couldn't help but frown along with the two boys. Had the professor taken points from Gryffindor for Neville endangering other students with his stupidity then she would have understood. But neither Harry nor Ron had had anything to do with the accident. Despite the way Harry had dragged her along into his humiliation, Hermione felt quite a bit sorry for him.

She was going to tell him too, after class. She was going to tell him that the way the professor had treated him wasn't and that he shouldn't get his spirits down, because surely the rest of Gryffindor house would understand that this was not his fault. She was going to tell him when she saw him an hour later, about to enter the Great Hall. She was going tell him until she heard Ronald Weasley's disgust filled voice.

"Merlin, that Granger's such a teacher's pet. I mean, doesn't she get cramps in that arm?"

It was like at the last moment realizing you were about to walk against a glass door. She wasn't aware there was already a barrier between them and she had no doubt that if she hadn't heard Ronald's comment, she would have walked right into it. She would have explained her thoughts filled with good intentions and would have been laughed at as a thanks.

Instead Hermione clenched her fists by her side and jutted her chin up, snapping: "Pardon me for having enough braincells to rub together to actually figure out the answer when a teacher poses a question."

At the sound of her voice, Hermione saw both boys falter, though Harry was the only one with the decency to look guilty. Ronald on the other hand just snapped back: "Doesn't mean you have to jump on your chair to do it though."

Hermione felt her brows raise all the way into her hairline at his audacity. "Doesn't mean you have the right to judge people for being excited about learning."

"Oh, that's a good one!" Ronald laughed at that, a hollow and fake thing that made Hermione ball her fists by her sides, "A Slytherin preaching about not judging people."

Hermione barely suppressed the urge to stamp her foot on the ground. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Ronald opened his mouth to undoubtedly deliver another scatting remark, but the words never came out. Instead his gaze drifted off to something behind her. At the sight the mocking gleam in his eyes was replaced by absolute loathing and his mouth twisted into a snarl.

"Yes, Weasel," a smooth voice demanded from behind me, "what is that supposed to mean?"

Platinum overtook her vision as Draco Malfoy slid in front of her as he did into the conversation. Besides him stood his two gigantic cronies arms crossed over their chests, glaring down at the two Gryffindors.

"Mind your own business, Malfoy!" growled Ronald through a clenched jaw, looking with his red mane of hair for all intent and purpose like the lion who represented his house.

Then again Draco reminded her no less of a snake with his sharp, pale features and hypnotizing eyes. Smirking, Draco revealed a set of gleaming pearly whites which would move her parents to tears and then calmly stated: "Actually, you are bullying one of my house mates." – "Bullying? Me? Of that's rich!" – "Calling her names and such. Seems to me that makes it my business."

"Oh, piss off!" barked Ronald, despite the way Harry had grabbed his arm, keeping his friend in check all the while getting madder and madder himself if the way his mouth was tightening into a thin line was any indication.

Draco made a tssk-ing noise, shaking his head in a dead-on impression of a disappointed parent. "Now that is just rude. Wouldn't you say, Hermione?"

It took two dumb blinks for Hermione to realize that she was the one being addressed and another two to remember that she was more than a little angry at the two Gryffindors in front of her. When she did though she pursed her lips, saying: "Quite."

Draco sighed theatrically, and casually commented to her, as his eyes trailed off to the side where a bit further away stood professor Snape lecturing a few older students: "I can only imagine what professor Snape would say about such language being used inside of Hogwarts."

It was nice standing on the other side of the ridicule for once. Hermione felt a small smirk of her own crawl up her as it was this time Harry who cried out: "You wouldn't!"

Draco continued as if the Boy-Who-Lived was merely an annoying fly to be ignored. In fact, he was looking straight into the eyes of Ronald Weasley – who was getting redder in the face by the second – as he said with a low voice: "Then again, what can you really expect from a Weasley? Blood traitor like that's probably been raised rolling around with pigs."

"Mudblood-loving scum," grumbled Crabbe in confirmation, Goyle nodding along.

There was that word again. Mudblood. Hermione had to say she was becoming rather curious as to what it meant. She had no time to ask though. Harry's hand had shot out, wand drawn, pointing the tip of the wand right at Draco's noise: "That's enough, Malfoy!"

I took a step back in surprise myself. As did Crabbe and Goyle. It was instinct. Draco's smirk simply widened and as I heard professor Snape low voice snarling behind her she understood why.

"POTTER! What are you doing pointing a wand in the hallway! 30 points from Gryffindor!"

Harry had the sense to lower his wand but not to keep his mouth shut. "But sir – !"

"Talking back now too?" There was a delighted gleam in the professor's black eyes which Hermione found unsettling, "Another 10 points from Gryffindor!"

"I – "

"Do you truly want to cost your house another 10 points, Potter?"

"No, sir." Harry gritted his teeth

"Then go to your table," sneered the professor, looming over the two students. Muttering beneath their breaths, the two boys entered the Great Hall.

Professor Snape then turned to them and said: "The four of you as well." before stalking away.

Once again, Hermione was allowed no time to process as this time Draco turned to her, saying: "Come on, Granger, you're sitting next to me during lunch."

He didn't wait for an answer, preferring to immediately enter the Great Hall, cronies hot on his heels. If his tone hadn't done it already, that would have made it painfully obvious that his words were an order, not a request. Hermione's instincts told her to huff at the pure arrogance of it and walk in the exact opposite direction just to spite him. Her brain reminded her though that she wanted to be friends with this boy, that it was a strategically good choice. As it tended in her case, her brain won out and she followed Draco's platinum head to the Slytherin table, sitting down opposite him.

"So, Hermione," Draco folded his hands on the table before him, "may I call you Hermione?"

His stature, his carefully controlled expression, his formal tone, it all reminded her more of a business meeting than a chat between classmates. Besides it was rather jarring, seeing the demeanor of an adult on a twelve-year-old. Hermione wondered if that was what people saw when they looked at her.

"If I can call you Draco," Hermione answered in an effort to appear just as cordial as he did.

Draco smiled at that and Hermione took it as agreement. "Well then, Hermione, you are a bit of a conundrum to me."

Her shoulders tensed up as she became more alert. Blinking innocently, she asked: "I am?"

"Oh yes," Draco's voice was still as pleasant as ever, but Hermione was not an idiot and she would not let outward appearances distract her from what he was actually saying, "I have been debating with myself over what to do with you all day."

Well, this was it. She had been herself all day, too excited about classes to consider being anything else. Now it was time to see whether she was appreciated in the Wizarding World for who she was. Face remaining impassive, Hermione swallowed and asked: "And what have you decided?"

"Mmmh, to be honest, I haven't yet," Draco said leaning back, looking me over as if the secret to my personality was hidden somewhere on my face, "See, you are obviously very intelligent and I'm sure quite talented. The amount of points you earned Slytherin today alone is very impressive. Having someone as capable as you by my side is quite the exiting prospect."

Hermione didn't allow herself to smile at the compliments. Instead she demanded: "But?"

Draco needed no further prodding. He leaned forward, elbows placed on the table and then as if he were discussing weather told her: "But your demeanor leaves much to be desired. You are overeager, as elegant as a cow and by Merlin that hair! See having you besides me might be handy but it would also reflect badly upon me. I don't like things that reflect badly on me."

Hermione's throat tightened, and it was taking much self-control to keep her turned down lips from turning into a grimace. She knew all this already, had accepted it long ago. It was impossible not to when it is thrown at your head every few seconds five days a week.

Nevertheless, Hermione still disliked hearing it. She felt the need to rattle him, make a dent in his ego, and calmly asked: "You care that much about what other people think?"

Draco wasn't rattled though. He cocked his head sideways as if to study her face even better and a lazy smirk crawled onto his face. "My father always says that by controlling what people think, you control what they do and if you control what they do, you control everything."

"I stand corrected," Hermione continued just as calmly as before, "You care that much about control?"

Draco's smirk grew into a grin as he asked; "Who doesn't?"

"Hippies?" Hermione offered, because by now it had become a game and Hermione didn't like to lose.

"Excuse me?" A frown appeared on Draco's porcelain face and Hermione allowed herself a smile of her own.

"A muggle movement," she explained, haughtily, "I suppose you wouldn't have heard of it."

"Ah yes," the confusion cleared out of Draco's eyes and he took back control of the conversation, "and we have arrived at the thickest strike against you. Your blood status."

Draco seemed to be trying to catch her eyes, even going as far as to move his head along with the movement of her own in his effort, but Hermione refused to be captured. She knew that lying wasn't her forte and that looking into Draco's eyes would only add a layer of difficulty she didn't need. And she was fairly certain she was going to be lying to him.

Eventually Draco continued without her eyes being snatched by his own: "There has been much debate over whether you are a bastard or a halfblood. The word mudblood has even been dropped a few times by the more moronic among our peers. Though the day a mudblood gets sorted into Slytherin is the day pigs fly. What Pansy?"

Well, Draco, I'm pretty sure somewhere on the globe a little piglet was born with wings then, because I am certain I am one. Hermione swallowed again. Blood status. The word reminded her of the myth that noblemen had blue blood. It reminded her of how the nobility would marry among themselves to keep their blood 'pure'. Though in the Wizarding World the only sort of 'pure' blood Hermione could imagine was magical blood, the kind her parents did not poses.

For once Hermione was glad for Pansy's presence. It allowed her to come to this realization without Draco's full attention being vested on to her. How could anyone be focused on anything but her nasal voice. "You grilling the swot?"

"Just talking," Draco answered through pursed lips.

"Oh?" The pug-nosed girl asked, happily pushing Crabbe away to sit down next to Draco, "What about? If I may ask."

"You may not ask," Draco snapped at her, annoyance more than clear, "Go find Blaise and Theo. Depending on my 'talk' with Hermione here, I'll want them to meet her properly."

Pansy drew back, immediately back on her feet as if the order itself had levitated her off the bench. She looked even more like a pug now, with her hurt puppy-dog eyes and her nose scrunched up.

Draco waited until she was a good few feet away, before turning back to her. "Now Hermione, as I was about to ask before we were so rudely interrupted: Would you care to shed some light on this blood status debacle."

"Not particularly," Hermione said keeping her voice steady as she weighed her words, "However this seems to be important to you, so I suppose I'll simply get it out of the way. I am not in fact a halfblood, but I was raised by muggles."

It wasn't a lie. None of it was. She hoped she didn't have to resort to that either.

"Muggles adopted a magical child?" Draco assumed, before thinking out loud, "Rather odd, though I suppose it is possible with the war. Many pureblood families were slaughtered. Sending a child to the muggle world might have made sense to a family that desperate. It would explain a great deal about you, of course?"

"Oh?" Hermione arched a brow. Perhaps she was a gluten for punishment, asking for elaboration, but she blurted it out anyway.

"Yes, yes," Draco continued absentmindedly, "the talent and intelligence of a pureblood, mixed with the ill manners of a mudblood. Thankfully, the latter can still be taught. Yes, we will simply get on that right away then."

Hermione took a deep breath, ignoring the array of insults like the professional she was, and focused on the core of the matter, asking: "And why would you invest so much time in me? You have just met me after all."

"Ah, I forgot to make my offer, didn't I?" Draco smiled. It was a pleasant smile, a perfect smile, a politician's smile. "Well, you Hermione Granger are getting the opportunity to become my friend."

Part of Hermione wanted to throw his offer in his face just because of the arrogance in his voice. Most likely that was her dignity talking. The other part of her though, the lonely little girl, had heard the word friend and was doing a happy dance. It was the war between these two that produced her responds. "I suppose I could consider becoming that, yes."

"Cute." Draco chuckled. "However, we both know you will be taking my offer. You are intelligent. You have realized the pull I have in our house. You don't want to cross me."

The lonely little girl might have been keeping her in check, but it was her dignity talking when she answered: "You are intelligent as well. Nevertheless, I don't think you have realized just how intelligent I am. Therefore, I would like to assure you that you wouldn't want to cross me either."

"Just how I like it," Draco smiled, and Hermione thought she might have seen an excited gleam in his eyes as he offered her his hand. "Friends?"

She was entirely sure though that he saw one in hers when she took it. "Friends."

After that, the rest of the day was a walk in the park. Draco introduced her to his friends Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini. Whereas Theo was a pale and lanky boy, Blaise was dark-skinned with cheekbones almost as striking as Draco's. Much like their appearances were opposites so were their personalities. Theo was the quiet sort, keeping a book next to him during lunch – something Hermione could appreciate – and only speaking when spoken to. Blaise on the other hand was the most talkative of the entire table, so busy vividly relaying one story or another he forgot to eat.

Despite introducing her to his friends though, it was Draco who sat down besides me during the rest of their classes. He hissed at her to keep her back straight while she was taking notes, telling her she would get a hunchback if she continued like that. He forcefully snatched her hand out of the air one time and then when she glared at him coached her through raising it again as if she were a toddler. "By Merlin, it's not a race! No one else even wants to answer." – "No, do not point your finger at the ceiling. What are you five?" – "Don't stretch your hand all the way. It looks ridiculous." – "Don't answer all off his questions. Make him work it a bit."

There were more than a few instances where Hermione wanted to whack him over the head with her book and say goodbye to her first friend. Except she didn't, because every annoyed command was alternated by a shared joke. "Merlin, do you think he stashes firewiskey in that thing?" Draco had whispered to her during Defense Against the Dark Arts and Hermione had had to stifle a giggle. She was fairly certain professor Quirrell had heard too, because he shot their table filthy looks the rest of the class.

Besides, if she terminated their friendship she would miss out on this. They, all the first year Slytherins in their little clique, on the couches by the fire place in the common room. She was fairly certain they belonged to the older years, but somehow Draco had gotten them to pack their things and hand over their couch. All of them were joking, laughing about their professors and the idiocy of some Gryffindors. Hermione was in a constant state of giggles which only intensified as Blaise told them all about how he had seen 'The Weasel', as Ronald had been dubbed, eat a bugger.

Alas, the fun had to end eventually. This end came in the form of one of the prefects walking into the common room, yelling: "Oi! Granger?"

"Yes?" She looked up frowning as she was sure Draco and his friends were as well

When the prefect's eyes landed on her, he said: "Snape wants to see you in his office."

"What for?" Draco demanded from besides me.

His tone wasn't rude exactly, but it was just enough to have the Slytherin prefect narrowing his eyes. Still the older boy said nothing. Hermione's brow quirked up subconsciously. Had any of the younger years tried this at her last school they would have been treated to a nice portion of intimidation. It seemed that Malfoy influence Draco so enjoyed bragging about ran further than first year here in Slytherin.

Remaining perfectly polite as he said: "He didn't say. He just said he wants to see her right now."

Hermione frowned as the urgency got through to her. What reason would her head of house have to see only her on her first day? She noticed Draco opening his mouth to snap at the prefect, but cut him off, having no time for his pissing contest.

Jumping up, Hermione asked: "Did something happen? Is it my parents?"

"Like I said, I don't know." The prefect spoke with neither malice nor compassion, just firmly. "The sooner you come with, the sooner you'll find out."

Hermione nodded fervently, ready to hurry behind the prefect when she noticed Draco standing up regally as he announced: "I'm coming with."

Lips pressed into a thin line, nostrils flaring, the prefect looked like he wanted nothing rather than to scream at Draco to put his arse back on the couch and keep it there.

"Of course," the older boy smiled thinly, "I doubt Snape'll let you in though. He specifically asked for Granger."

"Then he can tell me so," said Draco stressing the 'he' in such a superior way the prefect scowled at him openly. Once again, he said nothing though and simply started walking.

Having Draco walking besides me as we zigzagged through the labyrinth of the Hogwarts dungeons towards Snape's office, Hermione felt torn. Part of her felt comforted to have her first friend with her in this. The other part whispered nasty things to her soul; that he would leave her if he saw her being weak, that bringing him so close to information about her ancestry was asking for disaster.

In the end her inner struggle didn't matter. Snape was, as predicted by the prefect, hardly overjoyed by seeing Draco flanking her when they knocked on his office door.

"I do believe I asked for Miss Granger, not Mister Malfoy," drawled the hook-nosed man condescendingly to the prefect.

The older boy shrugged, scowling. "He wanted to come." And I could swear I heard him murmuring beneath his breath: "It's not like I can say no to the bloody Slytherin Prince."

Draco explained himself calmly, unfazed by Snape's harsh glare: "I thought Hermione would like to have someone by her side in case she got bad news."

"She asked you to come with?" Snape sounded like her father when he said this. His tone only slightly off for a genuine question.

"She didn't have to," Draco said now scowling as well, apparently he had heard the parental undertone as well, "I offered, she accepted. It's hardly Arithmancy ."

"Well," Snape drawled dismissively, "you will still have to wait outside. School policy."

Draco's scowl deepened, and he crossed his hands over his chest, but he didn't comment as Snape opened the door wider and gestured for me to come in.

"Please, take a seat, Miss Granger," said the professor, letting the door fall shut with a heavy thud.

Hermione in front of professor Snape trying to subtly avoid his black gaze by studying the room. The professor's office looked more like his potions classroom than an actual office though. Against every wall was a bookcase pressed, filled with all sorts colored vials and jars and tall as the ceiling.

Hermione didn't like to agree with the dimwitted Gryffindors in her year, but the professor did share a likeness to a bat with his pitch-black robes and greasy hair. Though it was really the eyes that freaked her out. They were just as black as his robes, a feature as unnatural as Draco's hair. However, whereas Draco's features made him stunning, his made Snape only terrifying. God, she wished Draco were here. If only to distract her from wringing her hands.

"I have called you hear, Miss Granger," drawled the professor in his trademark monotone voice, "because, as I am sure you have noticed by now, the wizarding world is far from without prejudice."

On second thought, Hermione thanked every deity in existence that he wasn't. "I have noticed that, yes."

"And I'm sure you have remarked that said prejudice is rather concentrated in Slytherin."

"I have indeed observed this."

"Good. The Sorting Hat is a magical object. Unlike people, magic does not make mistakes. If it decided you would flourish in Slytherin, then flourish you will. Therefore, I believe this little chat serves no purpose. However, Dumbledore insisted. He also insisted that I offer you the chance to switch houses."

"Switch, sir?"

"Yes, switch." The professor said it as If the word left a bad taste in his mouth, "If you at any moment this year feel bullied or believe you are in physical danger, the Hat will be consulted once again, and you will be placed in a different house. Ravenclaw from what I have seen of you so far."

Except she wouldn't be. Ravenclaw had been the first house out the window. No, it would be Gryffindor for her then. Hermione grimaced. Leaving out that she had chosen – perhaps unknowing of what she chosen had meant, but nevertheless chosen – the hard path, the path which the hat had promised her would lead her to people who would accept her fully, love her even, leaving all that out, she had met those Gryffindors. Slytherins sneered and glared and she was sure some older years hexed when no one was looking certainly, but Gryffindors were loud and rude and just uncivilized. They acted like children from first year to seventh.

Hermione liked to think of herself as an intelligent, cultured young girl. Would she really find likeminded people in the lion's den? As she had found Draco in the snake's pit. She doubted it. The hat was right. To fit in in Gryffindor, she would have to change parts of her personality that she simply wasn't willing to.

Hermione wanted to curl her lip in distaste at the suggestion as the professor did so openly, but she reminded herself, with great contentment, that she was a Slytherin. She would not show her carts.

Courteously Hermione told the potions master: "Please do thank the headmaster for the generous offer, but it will not be necessary. I feel quite at home in Slytherin and I've already made friends." Friend, really, but Draco had friends to spare and it would only be natural for them to befriend her as well.

The corner of the professor's mouth curved slightly up, giving his blank face a pleased undertone. Nevertheless, he still asked: "Friends who know of your heritage?"

Hermione felt her back stiffen of its own accord, something she doubted professor Snape had missed. It made her answer almost redundant, but for politeness sake she still voiced it: "No, I think it best to keep that to myself for some time. I've only known my peers for a day after all and I'm not one to poke the beer unnecessarily."

The professor nodded in what looked like approval, but argued anyway that, "Secrets such as these are often hard to keep. People slip up, holes in stories are discovered."

"Perhaps, perhaps not. I suppose that's the price I'll pay for choosing the best house of the four."

Snape smirked, and Hermione knew the debate was over. "Very well, I will relay your message to the Headmaster."

The professor gestured doe her to make herself scarce then, thus with one last: "Thank you, sir." Hermione got up to the door.

Just as her fingers brushes the handle though the professor spoke again

"Miss Granger," professor Snape's drawl stilled her fingers, "if you truly want to keep your secret I would advise against looking into Mister Malfoy's eyes for too long."

His tone held a sort of forced nonchalance that Hermione didn't entirely trust.

"His eyes, professor?" Hermione subtly fished for an explanation.

"Just a suggestion."

"I see, professor." She didn't but she was certain the professor would not elaborate. "I'll take that into account."

She walked out of the room, mystified, trying to process all that she had been told. However, she was not allowed do so. As soon as she walked through the door she was greeted by the sight of Draco leaning against the opposite wall, his sharp face schooled into a carefully constructed neutral expression.

In time with the slamming of the door shut, his mouth snapped open: "What did he want?"

"Just to talk." Hermione knew her reply was stupid the moment it left her mouth.

Draco's eyes narrowed into slits and sarcastically he asked: "Severus called you into his office 'just to talk'?"

Severus? Did Draco know the professor outside of school? Professor Snape had sounded awfully parental just before.

"It was about my behavior in class today," Hermione tried to safe her little lie, "He told me – he told me the same thing you did – that I'm a Slytherin and we act with decorum. We do not behave like overeager beavers."

"I see," Draco drawled the words in an eerily familiar way.

That's when she noticed. He was seeking out her eyes again. instinctively she pointed her gaze to the ground. She may not know the professor well nor understand his reasoning, but she trusted a teacher enough to listen.

Eventually, Draco gave up on trying to make eye contact and with an undertone of suspicion said: "Fine. Let's get back to the common room."

Hermione nodded and followed him back. Though when they arrived, Draco left for the boys' dormitories without another word. As she lay in her bed that night, thinking about her magic filled day, she couldn't help but wonder: 'What have I gotten myself into?'

Author's Note

Hi!

Here I am again. So this chapter is kind of a stepping stone when it comes to the dynamics inside of Hogwarts. We have been introduced to Harry and Ron and it didn't go well. I know there are a lot of fics where one part of the trio (most often Harry or Hermione) gets sorted into another house and they all become friends anyway. They force the people of their separate houses to get along as well and form one big friend group with kids from every house. Well, that's not going to be this fic. Hermione is not going to get along with either Harry or Ron, at least not in the first few books.

I hope you guys don't see this as bashing. I'm going to do my best to keep them in character, but we're going to see them through the eyes of someone who doesn't like them. Moreover, Ron does have valid reasons not to like Slytherin and while not a bully, he's not going to be kind to Hermione when they do interact. Don't forget, these children are the first generation after a major war. That leaves scars even on those who were never involved. I don't see Hermione realizing that at least until book 5 though, so you guys are going to have to be patient when it comes to making Ron (and Harry) a more in depth character.

Moving onto more practical matters, I hope everyone who wants to review can now. I heard some people had problems. If it is still a problem on this chapter, please don't hesitate to PM me or leave an anonymous review (apparently that does work).

Either way, let me know what you thought!