First Meeting, 1992

Hermione Granger was 12 – almost 13 – that day in Flourish & Blotts when she first met Lucius Malfoy.

She'd known and disliked his son for a year now, and in her humble opinion, he was nothing special. Sure, Draco Malfoy was smart enough to earn marks almost as high as her own, but he was a bully and a braggart and one she suspected would not be nearly so tough without his hulking dumb bodyguards Crabbe and Goyle around.

Thus when she spotted Malfoy at the bookstore, leaning over the railing looking down on the peons below, she grimaced and ducked her head, hoping to go unnoticed. Her parents had insisted on coming along to help her purchase school supplies, and the last thing she wanted was for the resident bully to humiliate her in front of her parents.

Luck was not on her side though, as Draco Malfoy pushed through the crowd there to meet author Gilderoy Lockheart and sought out Harry just to taunt him. It made her blood boil. Harry didn't deserve Malfoy's hatred. He'd done nothing wrong!

What looked like it could turn into a fight between Harry and Malfoy was broken up then by a man who could only be Draco's father. He was tall and had long pale blond hair that hung down over his shoulders. The man clasped a firm hand on Draco's shoulder. His eyes passed leisurely over their little group, and Hermione fought a shudder as his cold, grey eyes looked her up and down.

She knew she wasn't a beautiful girl. She wasn't tall and blonde like Lavender. She didn't have curves like Parvati. She knew the unkind things her fellow students whispered about her. Wizards and witches really weren't all that more creative in their insults than her muggle grade school classmates had been. Her hair was a bushy, tangled mass of brown curls she could barely manage, and her front teeth were, well, they were unseemly large given that her parents were dentists. Still, she she had dressed carefully for this visit to the wizarding world, and she knew there was nothing about her appearance that anyone could find overly objectionable. She was dressed like a proper young witch.

She looked up and her eyes met the elder Malfoy's, and to Hermione's shock, she realized that he was handsome. It was unexpected, to be sure, given her distaste for his son, but Mr. Malfoy was, well, she realised with quick intake of breath that he was far more pleasing to look at than even Gilderoy Lockheart. She could see traces of Draco in his father, but where Draco was overly slender like Ron and Harry, Mr. Malfoy was broad shouldered in his elegant and obviously expensive robes. Where Draco was pointy-faced, age had softened his father's features into a visage that she was certain made grown witches swoon.

How had she possibly thought Lockheart - soon to be Professor Lockheart - handsome? He was a pretender, a pathetic shadow in comparison to the wizard before her. It wasn't just his physical appearance though. There was something there, something she couldn't quite explain to describe no matter how hard she tried. He had a presence. He swept into the bookstore and commanded the place. It was vaguely reminiscent of the way Professor Snape took command of a classroom, but somehow more refined, more elegant.

Regal. Yes, that was the correct word. Lucius Malfoy was regal, and Hermione found herself strangely dazzled by him.

She was shaken from her stupor by the man's conversation with Harry, dear sweet, brave Harry who refused to be intimidated by Draco's father. She didn't want to call attention to herself and give Draco an opening to say something hateful to her, but she couldn't possibly stay silent when Harry was brave enough to say aloud in such a public place that Voldemort killed his parents.

She did not know where she found the courage to stand up to him, but before she could stop herself, she glared up at the handsome but intimidating wizard and firmly stated, "Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself."

He turned his attention on her then, and she held her breath at the sneering voice.

"And you must be… Miss Granger. Yes, Draco's told me all about you."

She swallowed hard.

"And your parents," he continued.

His voice was quiet, his speech measured. A shiver of fear went down her spine as she followed his piercing gaze to where her parents stood near the register, talking to Percy Weasley.

"Muggles, aren't they?" he said.

The hint of a smile on his face was merely an act, she knew this, knew it instinctively, and it both terrified and thrilled her. Summoning all of her Gryffindor courage, she raised her chin defiantly at him and met his stare with one of her own. One pale eyebrow lifted just ever so, and had she not been watching him so intently she would have missed it.

He turned his attention then to the Weasleys, and the conversation disintegrated from there but Hermione scarcely heard a word of it. She had just stared down Lucius Malfoy! She had held her own against the most intimidating, regal wizard she'd ever met.

That night as she lie awake in her bed, replaying the events of the day in her head, she realised with a start that Mr. Malfoy's words - "And you must be Miss Granger. Draco's told me all about you," - meant that he knew of her well before she knew anything about him. She doubted Draco had anything nice to say about her, but at a bare minimum, she felt certain that Mr. Malfoy knew that she'd bested his son at Hogwarts during their first year.

She'd worked hard to receive the top marks in their year, and she'd been proud of her accomplishment, but now the scores took on a new meaning. Her scores were proof that despite whatever pureblood supremacist garbage was spewed by other students, she belonged at Hogwarts, she belonged in the magical world.

And Lucius Malfoy knew it.

That night in her bed in her very muggle house, with her muggle parents down the hall asleep, Hermione vowed to herself that she would prove her worth to Lucius Malfoy. She would be the best student Hogwarts had seen in years. She would best Draco Malfoy in every possible subject. She would be a strong, powerful, brilliant witch, and one day, Lucius Malfoy would look at her in awe.

Years later, she would look back on that day and want to laugh at her naivete and cry over how easily it all spun out of control.