Overture {Dramione}

Think of Me

Long ago, it seems so long ago
How young and innocent we were
She may not remember me
But I remember her

The weekend had come and gone blissfully uneventful. Harry had sent her an owl Saturday morning saying they'd have to postpone their dinner plans as Ginny's morning sickness slowly became morning, noon, and night sickness. Hermione didn't mind much really. Sandy from the office had lent her a new book she was eager to start.

She had gotten through the book by later that evening, made a note to herself to return it to Sandy the following Monday, and stepped out to find takeaway in the middle of Diagon Alley. She fell asleep that night in front of the telly, a half uneaten pizza open and cold on the counter.

Sunday she occupied herself with errands. Diagon Alley was always the busiest on Sundays. True to tradition, both muggle and otherwise, Sundays were a sacred day that most people were granted off of work and school. Especially the weekends leading up to the first day of Hogwarts.

Hermione smiled as she watched a girl, small for her age, trail the spines of the transfiguration books in the store looking both awed and overwhelmed. She was a muggle-born, Hermione could tell. Not just by her, but by the parents standing behind her.

By the time magical children are ready to go off to Hogwarts, the wonders of new magic has ceased. It doesn't matter if you learned to levitate your plate at dinner, it wasn't amazing when you could turn the bubbles in your bath your favorite color at will.

For muggleborns, everything was still new. Hermione remembered her first moments in Diagon Alley. She also remembered her parents.

Magical parents know magic, they trust magic. Muggle parents don't. They can't. They've seen evil, known evil, without magic. What could stop evil who had magic? Something so powerful, so uncontrollable?

Hermione's heart clenched when the mother reached a hand out to gently brush the ends of her daughter's hair. Not just to let her child know that she's there, but also to assure herself as well.

Hermione watched silently as the girl pondered each book carefully before putting it back on the shelf.

"Are you looking for anything in particular?"

The girl started at the sound of Hermione's voice, then quickly looked relieved. "Oh, do you work here?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, but I might as well, I'm here so often."

"Well, I start Hogwarts next week and I feel like I'm so behind on everything. That boy over there? He turned a book page into a canary that flew. I can barely magic my shoes to tie." she sighed.

Hermione pulled a book from the third shelf, Top Twenty-Two Transfiguration Tricks.

"Try this," Hermione suggested. "It's a good start to learn the basics. Before you know it, canaries will seem juvenile."

The girl smiled shyly, tucking the book under her arm, "Thank you, you're very kind. Were you-- I mean assuming you went to Hogwarts, were you in Hufflepuff?"

"No, Gryffindor, why do you ask?"

"Well," she gestured to the boy again. "He said when we go to Hogwarts we'll be sorted into houses. Hufflepuffs are nice and Gryffindors are brave and Ravenclaws are smart and Slytherins are evil and you've just been so nice..."

"I was a Gryffindor actually. But sorting is beyond just those traits. Hufflepuffs can also be brave and smart. And Slytherins aren't evil, some of the greatest wizards in history have been sorted into Slytherin."