Bacon. It's like a high-five for your mouth.- Irrelevant quotes brought to you by Heckyehbaconpancakes. I feel like this should be the time to say that I am a vegetarian.
So, if you actually wanted to know what this story's about instead of just reading one of those crappy five word summaries that you get at the beginning, then wait one second while I give a message to people who don't like spoilers: turn away now, and read chapter one. Be none the wiser while you still can. Okay, so this is an AU where Hermione is a Slytherin - who, wait for it ... was not actually born in 1979. No, this is not a time-travel story. She was born in 1926. Looking at the picture will pretty much tell you what this story is about if you do your research. I wouldn't advise it though, because that would probably spoil the first few chapters for you. But if you're like me then you will anyway. So, be our guest, be our guest. I don't know how the rest of the song goes. Anyway, this is the end of the summary because I don't want to say too much. Thank you for reading this. P.S. DO NOT WORRY. THIS IS NOT TOMIONE. OR VOLMIONE. P.P.S. Sorry not sorry if you were hoping for that.
Rating: T because of language. It's not too bad. It may change for later chapters.
If you want to see the music video/picture for each chapter, then you can read this story on Wattpad as well. Same username, same story name.
It was a shock, to say the least, for Hermione's muggle parents when she received her Hogwarts letter. For her, it was inevitable. By Hermione's seventh birthday, she could feel the magic crackle at her fingertips at every emotional surge. At first, it was uncontrollable. A deep emerald fire would threaten to engulf her soul, putting a ball of flames in the palm of her hand. She once managed to light her primary school on fire, barely missing their pathetic excuse for a library. Any library was worth saving, no matter how pathetic - power is, as they say, knowledge.
The blazing flames encircled her petite frame, heating her skin to immense temperatures. By this time, the rest of the school had evacuated the surrounding area and found themselves one body short. Hermione had hoped it was two. Of course, she was the missing person, but she wanted James to be the one in the fire. The one with flames eating away at their flesh.
Pain clouded her vision as she fought to hold on to her anger. She was embracing it, just as the books said. After what seemed like hours through the searing ocean of pain, the fire that once consumed her burst from its cage. The relentless flames had been tamed - releasing Hermione from its tight hold on her, letting her knees succumb to the sudden heaviness of her own body and her head fall to the merciless floor.
That was one of her worst attacks. Each one made her stronger, this being the strongest. They ended after that, thankfully. Her sanity couldn't take much more of the endless torture that clouded her childhood.
Hermione thought about this boarding the train that would lead her to her fate. Her destiny, you could say, if you were feeling rather dramatic. The Hogwarts Express. No words could describe the train accurately - it was too stunning to transfer on to paper. She had read enough about it to know that the most vivid descriptions did not do it justice.
She looked over to the clock on the wall opposite the train. 10.58 it read; plenty of time to get a carriage. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a sea of orange heads rushing to the doors of the soon-leaving Hogwarts Express. "Weasleys," she muttered. Tattered robes encircled at least the better half of the clan - another observation that Hermione didn't fail to notice. Definitely Weasleys, she added in her head. They approached the doors quickly, just as she was shoved to the side by a hoard of eleven-year-olds on hyper-drive. She calmly strolled along the hallway looking for an empty carriage - or at least one that was sparsely filled so as to not disturb what little peace and quiet she would have for the entirety of her first year.
A few doors in, she found a space with only one seat filled. A striking girl with pale, almost translucent, hair occupied the seat farthest away from the door - heavily occupied by a thickly-spined book entitled: Nymphs and their mating rituals. Openness was one of Hermione's favourite qualities to look for in a person - it was often accompanied by honesty. Hermione smirked but quickly let her face fade into a mask of feigned nervousness.
"Hi, um ... is anyone sitting there?" She asked the girl, gesturing to the third of the seat sitting opposite her. The girl replied in a dreamy voice, the edges of her eyes twinkling as she briefly studied the worn seat.
"No, I don't think so. You're quite safe at the moment. I don't think the Nargles will arrive for at least another two hours of so."
Hermione just smiled softly at the girl and sat carefully on the edge, slowly sinking further into it until she realised that her trunk was still in the luggage area - she hadn't quite perfected the enlarging charm to do on her backpack yet. There was still a slight risk of it getting as big as her house on the inside. She thought that might be hard to rummage through when she needed to find her toothbrush or book. For now, she needed to get the rest of her things (that were still in her bedroom) to the manor - things that she couldn't exactly bring to the grounds without raising alarm. Especially for a mudblood like scoffed inwardly at the slur - she thought the wizarding race would have advanced from when she was an infant in terms of arrogance, or at least creativity. Hermione could think of at least fifty different ingenious ways to insult someone of lower class because of blood without seeming like a pompous arse.
She accioed a book from her trunk that had captivated her thoughts throughout the summer months, disguised well - with an illusion charm from said book - as a classic Jane Austen book (Sense and Sensibility). She supposed that's what a witch of her intelligence from the muggle world would read: she had actually read the book several times and still enjoyed it - that's probably what made it easy to believe that Sense and Sensibility was her book of choice. It would, at least, definitely be easier to believe than a muggleborn (who has, presumably, no knowledge of the wizarding world) reading Artibus Tenebris. Arts of Dark, it directly translates as. Hermione, as always, rolled her eyes at the scrawled writing on the inside cover. It read: Wards - how to use and break, and every charm or spell every housewife should know.
Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione noticed the girl tear her eyes away from the book she was engrossed in. She looked up with a detached expression and a smooth, high voice similar to that of a fairy's spoke the words, "That's a nice charm you've got there. I was thinking of doing something similar to the book I've got here, but I thought it would look as if I had something to hide. I have a feeling the topic makes people feel uncomfortable - I don't really see why though." The Irish lilt to her words could easily fool anyone in to thinking that she was as harmless as the fairy her voice resembled, but Hermione wasn't anyone.
"Thanks. I'm Hermione Granger - I assume you'll be wanting to get into Ravenclaw. You're definitely smart enough." She didn't lie. The fairy girl was most definitely smarter than almost everyone in the entire school - probably including the vast majority of teachers.
"That's very kind of you, Hermione. I've been told not to expect that of Slytherins, but I guess you can't really trust people who say nothing but half-truths and rumors. Oops, I caught on a bit of a tangent there. I'm Luna. Lovegood. You can call me Looney if you'd like - everyone else already seems to. No idea why, I might add." Luna replied, smiling wistfully at what seemed like nothing. Hermione didn't even question how Luna was so certain of Hermione's sorting, seeing as it hadn't quite yet happened.
"I think I'll stick to calling you Luna. It suits you. Omnis luna habet a caeco lateri." Hermione replied, no doubt in her mind that Luna knew exactly what book Hermione was reading - she probably even knew the inscription in the cover. Or at least knew of it. She offered Luna a smirk which was returned almost with glee.
"Indeed." Was all she said, an amused glint in her eye. This soon changed to one of complete focus as both girls retreated to read their books, both of their minds lingering on what the other had said.
Heavy footsteps rushing to the sliding door of their compartment pulled Hermione away from the whirlpool of possibilities that was her book. Herself and Luna had already dressed into their robes - fairly shortly after the train left the station in fact, which allowed Hermione to follow the stumpy boy (who the steps belonged to) on his quest to find his pet toad that had escaped during the last-minute scrabble to the already steaming train. Luna opted to stay and protect Hermione's seat from the Nargles that still had fifty-four minutes to arrive by Hermione's counting and Luna's previous estimation. As Hermione and the boy - Neville, Hermione later learned (most likely Neville Longbottom) - were leaving to search for the remainder of the journey, Hermione heard the unmistakable sound of a fairy's soft giggle. Instead of trying to drag the fairy by her long blonde hair to help in the toad hunt, Hermione decided to smirk at the girl's Slytherin-worthy tactics.
Using what shied people away from her to fuel her own motives. Every moon really does have a dark side - Hermione inwardly smirked as she thought about the possibilities of having alliances stretched out to other houses, of having a broader range of associates for her end game. It would be a challenge: who would trust a filthy mudblood, soon-to-be dirty Slytherin like her? Sarcasm almost physically dripped from her mind as these thoughts cluttered her mind - almost allowing her to trip on an empty chocolate frog case blocking her path through the train.
Just as she was about to explain the negative effects of littering (to the environment) to an unsuspecting Neville, she heard the beginnings of someone's first spell. This ought to be interesting.
She pocketed the case and turned to Neville to hurry him along, but turning around she saw no Neville in sight. Shrugging, Hermione turned to the carriage and pulled a veil of curiosity and searching over her passive face. Moving in, through the open sliding doors, she sighed exasperatedly and asked the question, "Has anyone seen a toad? A boy named Neville's lost one." After only just realising the inhabitants of the small space, Hermione (with much effort) suppressed an eye-roll for the Weasley and an Avada Kedavra for the Potter boy. Let's see what the boy's got up his sleeve. Oh, and the Potter boy's decided to show his face after all.
Unsurprisingly, Hermione reached unknown amounts of self-control during the Weasley's performance that did not exactly reach magical heights. A giggle erupted shortly after - fortunately, the sound was out of earshot for the pair - as Hermione continued on her Magical Quest for Trevor the Toad, as she had so grandly anointed it in her mind to control an outburst of throat-ripping laughter that was sure to end in fits so gripping that it would be on par even to the cruciatus curse. A curse not too far off her expanding skill range. A curse she would be happy to try as soon as she needed - to test that exact theory.
It only then occurred to her that Neville was gone. Poof. Bam. Disappeared. She had been putting this off for long enough. Not finding Neville, although that would tie into her still-spinning web of lies. An obnoxious snort rang through the unusually still air, shortly followed by another - if possible - even more outrageous cackle with a squeal of "Drakey!" Jackpot.
Tip-toeing to the door which was conveniently blocked by a Homer Simpson look-a-like with more hair, she performed a quick Alohomora on the lock - stumbling in with an acted lack of balance. "I'm sorry - I'm looking for a toad. A boy named - Neville? What are you doing here? I thought you were looking for Trevor." She examined the room - it was clear from a glance that he was not there by his own accord.
On the seats were who she recognised as Draco Malfoy: arrogant, quick to violence and a boy force-fed his father's shit his entire life. That was her guess - there was no mistaking that it was the newest Malfoy heir. No way in hell. Next to him sat another person Hermione recognised: Blaise Zambini. Smooth Italian eligible bachelor of the wizarding world even as an eleven-year-old. The only girl in the room was still fawning over her 'Drakey-poos', it was not even worth mentioning a name for that ... creature. She recognised the figure standing at the door as Gregory Goyle, and the other boy in the room as Vincent Crabbe. It always payed well to ... learn things about one's future associates. Even when those methods were not approved of - at least to some extent.
A sneer crossed the face of Malfoy - a cruel expression that could only be achieved by hours of practising in a mirror. She was sure it would have cracked in that time. Hermione scoffed at the gesture that was clearly supposed to make her shake with fright - a sound which did not escape the notice the rest of the faces in the compartment.
The blonde snake took a step towards a quivering Neville and planted the tip of his wand in the center of his chest, punctuating his next words. "We were just showing Neville here a few jinxes I've been practising. Care to see?" Smirking, he aimed his wand instead at Hermione, his eyes turning a darker grey. Hermione's briefly turned a dark moss colour, a contrast to the calming hue of her usual chocolate orbs. As the fire moved to her fingertips, the crackle of her magic was heard by her ears only.
"Oh, I'd love to. After all - I'm just a mudblood. I'm sure there's no way I could possibly defend myself in the wizarding world." She pulled an equally aggressive smirk onto her face, watching the expressions of the soon-to-be Slytherins change from confusion to disgust in a matter of moments upon hearing the word mudblood. The bitch-witch snickered with enthusiasm as the scenario unfolded before her - clearly expecting her dear 'Drakey-poos' to have the upper hand.
Draco clenched his fists in anger and shot a jelly-legs jinx at a smiling Hermione, who (without the use of words or a wand) put up a shield charm around herself - making the spell ricochet off of her mid-thigh area onto a gaping bitch-witch, causing her knees to buckle, her arms to flail and her hand to grip on to a shell-shocked Draco.
His legs shook violently before collapsing on to the floor with the bitch-witch falling on top of him.
Sighing, Hermione turned to leave with an awe-struck Neville in tow - but not before calling to a furious Draco over her shoulder: "I really was expecting more of a fight. I guess the Malfoy name doesn't befit you, Draco dear." And with that final twist of the knife, Hermione had the whole of the room stifling laughter - all centering around the famous Draco Malfoy (as he finally managed to push the lump of a bitch-witch off of him) who was fuming with the heat of a thousand suns in the middle of Death Valley in the summer.
Strolling through the corridor of the never-ending train, Hermione spun around to place her hands on either side of Neville's shoulders. "Look, Neville. I think I'll have to get back to my seat. I've got some last-minute reading to do. I hope you find your toad."
Leaving a gaping Neville in her wake, Hermione abruptly turned and left in the search of Luna. Looking through all of the passing glass doors, she saw one with a familiar blonde-haired girl in it. She reminded herself to get her back for the stunt she pulled earlier, and plastered a grin on her face before entering the compartment.
Luna immediately smiled her evil fairy smirk at Hermione and casually asked the question, "Productive toad hunt, Hermione?"
"Why yes, you could put it that way. Discover anything new about Nymphs while I was gone?" She asked with similar casualness, Luna's face lighting up with intrigue as they delved into a lengthy conversation about a vast number of magical creatures. Again, Hermione had no doubt in her mind that Luna knew exactly what happened in that compartment. In truth, she was afraid of what the answer to 'How?' would be. It would soon be proven to be a mistake to question the methods of that certain fairy.
I know hardly anyone reads these, but this is a new story so I thought it would help to tell anyone who is reading this about the background a bit. This is not the 'Hermione isn't who she thinks she is' FanFic about her and Draco. Well, it is, the only difference is she knows. And I don't think this will be Dramione. I'm trying to drop hints about her heritage, and I think that by chapter three you might be able to figure it out. Hopefully. Or at least you could guess. Anyway, I really hope you guys like it. Hermione might seem a bit OOC, but you will know why shortly. I say shortly, I mean now for at least five chapters. If you like it, then please follow/favourite or review so I know what you think. If you steal it, then I will ... you don't want to know. So don't. If you hate it, then make sure to tell me with all your passion what you loathe about it. I will be sure to not give any fucks. Those are reserved for people who don't turn into the Hulk every time someone makes a spelling mistake.
And yes, I love Adventure Time. So Heckyehbaconpancakes. Xx
P.S. I may not update for a while because this is just a test run, so comment/favourite to get the next chapter out faster. I'm not just saying that for the sake of it - I actually haven't started writing it yet ...