The Meet Cute That Wasn't: September 1, 1991

Hermione peered inside the next compartment she was set to search, raising her chin and squaring her shoulders bravely, like the Gryffindor she was determined to become. She carefully opened the door. The five occupants all appeared to be about her age; at most they were one or two years older. It was impossible to know for sure. What she did know was that they all came from magical families because unlike her they weren't wearing non-descript Hogwarts uniforms but stylish, everyday (at least she assumed) wizarding robes.

It was hardest to face kids her age; the older ones viewed her with either vaguely veiled amusement or annoyance, answered her question about Trevor, and let her move along. Those closer to her age were less predictable and took her request with less good humor. Being sneered at and turned away, by older kids was one thing but it was hard to swallow from those her were to be her peers. She so want to make friends at Hogwarts and certainly didn't want to mess it up before she even reached school.

She regarded the compartment's occupants: two of the boys drew her attention first /by virtue of their sheer size. They were simply enormous. They both had heads of close cropped dark hair but there was no intelligence behind their eyes so, despite their size she wasn't particularly frightened.

Then there was a girl with a blunt, bob-style haircut and upturned nose who practically radiated animosity. However, she was completely un-intimidating compared to her blonde friend who was probably the prettiest girl Hermione had ever seen. She automatically curled her upper lip around her overly large front teeth self-consciously. She knew these types of girls, they knew how to dress and do their hair and even apply cosmetics. She didn't have a prayer of fitting in with them. In fact, experience told her it was better to stay off their radar completely, they were destined to wield power and could use it against her.

But it was the last boy who almost brought her up short. He was obviously the leader of the group. She didn't know how she knew that, but she was certain. He was unusual looking; pale with sharp aristocratic features and hair so blond it was almost white. There was something about him that drew her to him. Something that made her hope that, more than anyone else on this train, he would like her; however unlikely that might be considering her observations about his companions.

She breathed in deeply through her nose, remembering her promise to the pitiful but kind boy whom she'd promised to help find his pet, and began to speak, "Hello, I'm Hermione Granger. Have you seen a toad? A boy named Neville's lost one."

And what happened in the next couple of minutes had her losing her temper like she never had before, and regretting it for months afterward.

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She had ridiculous hair. He hadn't even known hair could be like that. And a very bossy voice and attitude to match. She just assumed she could walk into their compartment and demand things of them.

Crabbe and Goyle seemed largely unperturbed. Of course they were, they were busy inhaling the treats they'd gotten off the trolley, not that they generally cared about much anyway. Pansy began to stand up but he waved her off, he wasn't going to allow her to speak for all of them, she would read far too much into that.

He rose from his seat, first impressions were important, "My apologies, Miss Granger, but we haven't seen a toad."

She smiled tightly, "well thanks anyways."

She turned to exit the compartment and he had the sudden urge to stop her, "may I present Greg Goyle, Vincent Crabbe, Daphne Greengrass, and Pansy Parkinson," he indicated to each of them in turn.

"Granger?" Pansy sniffed disdainfully, no doubt feeling the sting of being left for last in his introductions, "that doesn't sound like any name I know."

"Oh, well, my parents are muggles," she answered with a shrug, "I don't know if there are any magical families called 'Granger.'"

The silence in the compartment was deafening.

"Muggles?" Draco felt his lips curl into a sneer of distaste, his heart falling in disappointment. Despite the attitude and the hair he had decided in the last few seconds that he wanted to get to know her, but that would never happen now.

"Is that a problem?" she asked, shoulders squared in defiance.

Draco marveled at her nerve in even approaching them, didn't she know how filthy she was?

He huffed out an incredulous little laugh, "Only in that it makes you the lowest of the low, I wouldn't count on finding a place here, Granger, you don't belong. Go back to your kind," he hissed, gesturing vaguely back towards London.

She stood there just staring at him, and for a moment he worried that he was going to have to deal with a crying girl. Mudblood or not, it wasn't a pleasant prospect. But then her eyes flashed, her nostrils flared and he could have sworn he felt her magic build, it felt like an approaching storm.

"You said that your name was 'Malfoy?" she said suddenly, in a disconcertingly calm voice. She took several measured steps in his direction, like a predator stalking her prey, and Draco realized that she could be equally dangerous, but he refused to flinch.

She stopped right in front of him, they were unfortunately about the same height. She smirked wickedly and leaned right into his space, "derived from the French meaning 'bad faith?'" she sniped, face painted with delicious malice, "well that certainly doesn't bode well for your future. I think I'll take my muggle background over that any day, thank you very much."

He blinked at her, shocked by her sheer nerve, and tried to think of an appropriate retort, his pride greater than his sense of self preservation in the moment. However, before he could even blink she'd spun on her heel and stormed away; the doors to the compartment banging together in the wake of her departure.

He didn't understand why hurting her hurt him so badly. And he understood even less why he actually felt humbled by her words. He did his best to put her out of his mind, it was a an exercise doomed to failure.