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Chapter Text

  Hermione couldn’t help the feeling of listlessness that permeated her being. 

  She felt lost. 

She felt stuck.

  An odd combination, and yet it was a feeling she knew quite well. Her entire life she’d always been…strange. Odd. Misunderstood. 

  As she grew older, Hermione came into her own- and became the powerful, resilient witch she is today. She was strong for the people around her. They needed her, needed her strength. 

  And she was proud of that. 

But again, when she was alone Hermione felt… off. Like something wasn’t quite right. 

  She felt that way from the very beginning, for as long as she’d had memories- Hermione could remember people looking at her like something was wrong. Children in her neighborhood pointed and laughed while calling her names. Teachers at her school watched her carefully, like they knew something she didn’t. Her parents whispered behind closed doors, thinking she couldn’t hear. 

  They were afraid of her. 

She didn’t blame them, at the time she was afraid of herself as well.

   Accidental Magic is what they call it.

 Neither her parents or herself knew what that was back then- or even believed magic was real at all. 

   Now she knows it’s common in children like herself, for their magical cores to be unpredictable- but at the time all it was, was frightening. 

  Hermione didn’t remember it, but apparently for as long as her parents could recall- her emotions were always heightened. 

  If she was happy? Nothing in the room outshone her smile. 

If she was sad? It was as if the whole world was ending.

  But if she was angry? Anger was the worst of all in a young child who could not be reasoned with. 

Her parents described the incident to Minerva McGonagall that day she came with Hermione’s letter, that it had been as if the room around her had crackled with hostile energy. Her curls sparking in her ire. 

  They were scared of her. 

She had been about seven years old the day of the incident. Her parents had rightfully put her in timeout after a particularly rough day at school. Hermione was unhappy about it and disliked that she’d been sent to her room without supper. 

  Sulking and stewing in her anger and resentment at being treated so terribly, Hermione fitfully fell asleep. And woke up hours later to her parents, shaking her awake- her entire room had been in flames and she’d almost burned down half the house… and yet she was fine. 

  Not a scratch on her. 

Her bed was untouched by the flames that scorched the room around her.

  Her parents didn’t understand, and she couldn’t explain it either. So they covered up as much as they could, said it was an accident- that she had been playing with matches. But they were afraid of her. And to a child, that only made her more afraid of herself.

  So when Minerva came and explained to her parents that magic was real and present in their daughter, Hermione was elated. There was finally an explanation, she wasn’t a freak- she was a witch! 

  All she had to learn was control, and Hogwarts promised a world of learning. Hermione being herself, couldn’t wait to finally be around people like herself, where she could truly be accepted. 

  Only to find, she was yet again out of place.

 Rumors of her arrival had apparently made their way all throughout Hogwarts. Again, Hermione was not accepted. 

 She was different, in a way she had no control over.

  She was a Muggleborn. And apparently, her particular powers had a name- Elemental.

   Hermione had no idea what that was or what it meant, but there she was- labeled already, an Elemental Witch.

  Different. 

In a place where all she wanted was to be the same.

   Somehow, word of what had happened to her home as a child had gotten out- and people knew what she had done. 

  Even though, again, this had been something out of her control. The fire wasn’t her fault- it was magic. 

  It didn’t matter. 

They didn’t care. 

  Hermione was a freak yet again. 

And nothing seemed to change that, no matter her age, no matter her aptitude. She would always be different. 

  So she embraced it, while hiding how much it hurt to have to do so- Hermione walked with her head held high, and dared anyone to cross her. As far as they knew, she was an unstable witch who could burn anyone who had something to say about it. 

  Her confidence bloomed as she grew older, as she truly began to understand her powers, as she formed her Coven. With them she was her most true and strongest self, and felt as if there was nothing she couldn’t do. 

   Hermione’s fellow Elementals accepted her as she was, but that didn’t stop the rest of Wizarding London from still looking at her with fear and contempt in their eyes. 

  After years living amongst the hustle and bustle of the city, Hermione was growing restless- and needed a change of scenery. And despite how much her fellow witches and wizards despised her, she was an exceptional Potioneer- people would continue to buy from her no matter where she chose to brew. 

  She was just that good.

So Hermione was searching for a place she could call home, somewhere isolated and remote- where her magic could truly be free from the oppression of the small minded people around her. Her current neighbors didn’t really appreciate her or her Coven’s monthly appreciation for the opulence of the Moon. 

  Her inner magic was hungry for a home that could be permanent, at twenty five years old Hermione felt ready on the inside and out for a place that was her own. A place where her magic could not only settle, but thrive. 

  Having even sought out help from a magical estate agent, Hermione gave the woman no monetary limit- she was ready and willing to pay almost any amount for the right place that called out to her magical core. 

  Though her being an Elemental was openly shunned in most circles, Hermione had found over the years that money- however ugly it felt to flash so crassly, opened doors previously shut to her kind. She was no longer embarrassed at using her magic, and her somewhat newfound source of income to take advantage where she could. 

  It felt decidedly pureblood to be so open with flashing her purse strings, but unfortunately it was how things must be done. She had found her aptitude and good hearted nature didn't matter to these people- she would always be different. So if she had to get what she could by means at which she previously thought unsavory, Hermione would do it. Besides, a majority of her wealth was made from the very same people who thought her beneath them. The wizarding world wanted her potions, they wanted the benefits of the magic she could create- so if she charged a little extra, who are they to complain? 

  Her money came with benefits; namely the promise of a hearty commission made people clamor to be the one who sold her the ‘perfect’ home. 

   Arabella Brixley M.E.E.A (Magical Executive Estate Agent) had shown her at least a dozen properties so far, and none of them stirred anything in her gut yet. They had traveled to Italian Paesino’s(Italian Villages) , three homes in La Compagne de Française( the French Countryside), up and down the outskirts of Britain- yet nothing was what she wanted. Arabella was beginning to lose hope and patience, Hermione understood but figured if she was paying for her services, she should get the home that felt most right. 

  Until finally Arabella brought Hermione to a home on the outskirts of Scotland, closer to her childhood school than she’d been in years- and again the actual house Arabella was showing her, was unsatisfactory. But Hermione couldn’t deny there was something in the air, something about Scotland- of all places- made her magical core sing. 

  Hermione wandered outside, her magic drawing her closer to the forest resting on the back of the property for some unknown reason. She ignored Arabella's pleas to turn back round to the car waiting in the driveway, yet Hermione wouldn’t stop. 

  But again- the promise of money, made Miss Brixley push her concerns aside and follow her further into the forest. 

  She couldn’t explain it, but something was calling out to her, making Hermione’s heart flutter with every step closer. 

  Until finally she saw it- a cottage nestled amongst the beauty of the woodlands surrounding it. It was perfect, thought the house did seem to need some tender loving care- the entire property made her heart sing quite beautifully. 

   “This… Miss Brixley, this is what I want…” Hermione said over her shoulder. 

 The woman scoffed, “Miss Granger? This… You want something like this?”

  She shook her head and walked closer to the place Hermione knew she would one day call home, “No. I want this house. Specifically.” 

  Arabella looked around skeptically, “Umm, I-I don’t think that’s possible, Miss Granger.” 

  “And why is that?” she asked.

The woman walked carefully in her high heeled shoes, trying unsuccessfully to avoid the wet earth, until she stood face to face with Hermione, “This place? I’m almost positive this is SLF territory.”

   At this Hermione was confused, “SLF?”

“The Seuls Les Forts pack.” Arabella almost whispered, like the wolves might somehow be listening. 

  She considered for a moment, “Is that French?”

“Yes, I believe so.” Arabella answered. 

 It was strange, maybe Hermione hadn’t been keeping up with most of the wizarding world's latest gossips- but she was unaware of this pack or their residency. 

  “What is a French pack of wolves doing with territory in Scotland? Shouldn’t they be in France?” The question was mostly rhetorical, and didn’t require an answer that she thought might be helpful from Miss Brixley, but the woman answered regardless.

  “I’m really not sure, Miss Granger. But if this is what you are looking for, I’m sure I can find something like it somewhere else.” Arabella replied in a huff.

  But Hermione wasn’t finished. 

Her magic had responded to nowhere but here… 

  She wouldn’t give up quite so easily, “So it is absolutely unavailable?” 

  The woman beside her stuttered out a response, “I- I mean, I don’t know?”

“Find out, then. I want this or nothing, I will pay any price- I hope that motivates both you and them.” Hermione whirled around and started back for the car they had arrived in.

  There was a moment of shocked silence, before Arabella began jogging to catch up, “Well, um- Miss Granger, I think you need permission to live on SLF land. Are you sure I can’t convince you to keep looking? I know this is our… thirteenth? House we have looked at, but now I know more your style and I ca-“ 

  She cut Arabella off, “I will meet with whoever I must to secure this house. I trust that you are capable of setting up such a meeting for this ‘special permission’ that I must acquire?” 

  Hermione could feel the bitterness seeping out of her, was it because she was an Elemental Witch? Was that why she needed special permission? 

  She didn’t care, Hermione would make this cottage her home- prejudice be damned. She didn’t wait for an answer from Arabella, willing to wait to see if the Estate Agent would follow through on her request for a meeting- or do it herself, if she must. 

  It wasn’t for another three weeks that Miss Brixley sent her an owl with a response that was anywhere near helpful: 

   Dear Miss Granger,

             I have acquired that which you have requested. A meeting with the Alpha of the Seuls Les Forts pack. You are invited for tea in the pack house, where you will discuss your request for permission to live on pack land. Attached is a portkey to your destination for next Wednesday. Your meeting is set for eleven thirty in the morning with the Alpha of SLF, Mr Draco L. Malfoy. 

I hope this is to your satisfaction, Miss Granger. Keep me informed, if you would. Thank you.

                   Regards,

         Miss Arabella Brixley

                 M.E.E.O

  Well, damn…. That was unexpected…

Chapter Text

Hogwarts: First Year

The whispers started the instant she landed at Platform 9 ¾ , Hermione could feel the many pairs of eyes that watched her as if they were physically palpable. At first she tried to deny it, tried to reason with herself that it could be something different…

  Maybe they don’t see muggle clothes very often and like my sense of fashion? 

  No, it can’t be that. She’s been accused of a lot in her eleven years- but fashion forward was never something people pictured when they thought of her.

  Maybe I’m the first muggle they’ve ever seen up close before?

  The idea was instantly squashed when she saw another family aside from her own that were very clearly muggles- and no one was staring at them.

  Maybe… they want to be my friend?

No, these weren’t friendly looks she was getting. She knew these kinds of faces all too well.

  And that’s what scared her.

 Maybe they know what happened? 

   Maybe they heard about the fire? 

But how… 

  Hermione’s stomach was in knots as she came to a stop and looked back at her parents.

  They could clearly feel the same tension she felt- and saw on their faces a sense of doubt in their eyes on if this place was right for her. But their unease was pushed aside, for instead it was replaced with an emotion they would never vocalize to her- relief. It would no longer be on them to hide what she was, they would never tell her the truth- that they were secretly pleased that she was someone else’s problem now.

  Hermione had no doubt that her parents loved her, but she knew that carrying her secrets was burdensome and a heavy weight would be lifted off their shoulders when she boarded the train to this faraway place. 

  No longer would they need to lie about the strange occurrences that constantly seemed to happen at 8 Heathgate, Hampstead Garden. 

  No longer would they need to lie to their colleagues about one of her parents needing to always be with her at home, so no other attention seeking fires occurred around her.

  Instead now they could have their lives back- talk about their daughter who got accepted to a faraway boarding school. 

  Just… live as any other normal person deserves to do.

  Hermione almost felt a sense of pride that she was relieving this strain from her parents. 

  It was sad to be leaving them, but it was what must be done- and she vowed to herself, she would leave and learn control so that she might never be a burden again. 

   “I guess this is it…” young Hermione mused. Trying her best to breathe through her parents' inevitable farewell in combination with the whispers and stares she could feel all around her. 

  “You’ll write to us, won’t you, my love?” Her father said through unshed tears.

 Hermione couldn’t respond, but nodded just the same.

It was her mother who hugged her first, squeezing her tightly, as if this might be the very last time, “I love you, Hermione. I hope you’ll be happy here. I can’t wait to hear about all of your adventures. I want this to be good for you, little duck.” 

  Letting go of her mother was hard, and holding back tears was even harder. But Hermione refused to be the freak show everyone already thought she was, and then to cry like a little girl on top of that. She needed to be strong. 

  With a final goodbye, Hermione boarded the train- all of her luggage was already being loaded onto the train, which left her with nothing but her small book bag and a stiff upper lip.

  Hermione traveled from compartment to compartment, looking for a place to sit. But at each door, she saw the children look at her, oddly, or whisper behind their hand. This was not an uncommon occurrence, just one she had been hoping to avoid.

  Finally, she found an empty compartment and squeezed her eyes shut, the burn of tears, threatening to spill- the only mercy being that she could be alone. For it seemed that there was no one here that didn’t know who she was.

  Until suddenly a boy appeared at the doorway, wearing Muggle clothes- nicer than her own parents could afford, but Muggle clothes all the same just like her, the boy cleared his throat before asking her a question, “Excuse me, do you mind? Everywhere else is full…”

  “Not at all!” Hermione nodded her head and gestured for him to come in. He was a pale boy with dark brown hair and circular glasses- but best of all, he didn’t seem to have heard anything about her. Or he didn’t care.

 She wasn’t sure which, either way she was happy for a potential friend. 

  He smiled gratefully and sat on the bench opposite her, before introducing himself, “I’m Harry, by the way. Harry Potter.”

  She fought to school her reaction- Hermione had read Hogwarts: A History and anything else she could get her hands on. She knew the name Harry Potter. 

  But figured he- much like herself- had probably been subjected to enough ‘oohing and ahing’ for the day, and was no doubt looking for some simple normalcy. 

  So she tried her best to do so, “I’m Hermione. Hermione Granger.”

  “Good to meet you! You a first year?” Harry asked.

She thought the answer to be quite obvious, but she’d never really had any friends so she figured it was best to just be nice, “Yes, I am. You as well, I’m assuming?” 

   The boy let out a relieved breath, “Is it that easy to tell? I’m so nervous I could… well I’m so nervous I don’t even remember what I could be doing!” 

  Hermione couldn’t help but laugh, he was funny. And she liked that, all she could do was hope he’d continue to be her friend after he would no doubt hear the rumors about her.

   But she hoped he would see the similarities in both their situations- that he had a legacy as the son of the woman who killed Voldemort, an expectation for greatness he no doubt was feeling the moment he stepped aboard- and she a girl who seemed to already be known for something she had absolutely no control over. 

  They could bond over this, she hoped…

But alas Hermione was not experienced in the art of friend making or conversation, so eventually the chat died down- and she pretended to nap against the window to avoid the awkward silence. At first Harry didn’t seem to mind, and was seemingly not disturbed by the silence. 

    Until another boy entered the compartment, where she tried her best to peek at him through her almost closed eyes. Seeing a little boy with red hair and a dirty face, who immediately rushed over to her companion. Hermione snapped her eyes back shut when she noticed the red hair boy was looking at her suspiciously and then glancing back at Harry.

  “Hey, Ron! Do you wanna sit with us, I could make room for yo-“ Harry whispered, so as not to wake her.

  This boy, Ron, immediately interrupted Harry, “What are you doing in here?”

  Harry was confused, “There weren’t very many open compartments. Why?”

  “No! No, I mean, what are you doing in here, with her?”  he whispered sharply under his breath. 

  Harry was immediately confused, and Hermione’s heart sank.  All she could do was hope that Harry wouldn’t let Ron influence him.

  “Why shouldn’t I be in here with her?” Harry asked.

The newest boy scoffed, “C’mon, let’s just go…”

  Harry persisted, “Just tell me!” 

Ron’s voice went even lower, “Harry, she’s a freak…”

  “Because she’s a muggleborn?” He scoffed angrily, “My mother is a muggleborn, you know. I don’t believe in any of that blood supremacist crap- so if that’s why, then you can just leav-“

  Hermione’s heart burst happily, her belief in Harry was warranted- he was an actual good person.

  But Ron wasn’t done, “No! Of course not! That’s not it- I mean… it’s something else…” 

  “Why then? I won’t take your word on it for nothing!” Harry whisper-yelled to the other boy beside him.

  It seemed to be a few moments before Ron broke down and blurted, the apparent secret out. 

  A secret she didn’t even understand. 

“Look, she’s an Elemental! A muggleborn Elemental, too! Which is pretty much impossible, I thought…” At Ron’s declaration there was only stunned silence- from both Harry and herself. 

  An Elemental? 

What was that? 

 And how did all these people know about that before her? 

  If her condition is that obvious, why didn’t Professor McGonagall tell her about it the day she got her letter? 

  Harry was stunned, “What… An Elemental? I’ve never met one before! And she seemed so normal, too.”

 There was another amused scoff, “She is totally a murderous weirdo! I heard she almost burned her whole family alive…” 

  It was the first time Hermione was hearing what the rumors were saying, and it was worse than she thought. 

  It wasn’t true. How could anyone think this was true? She walked onto the platform with her parents! 

   Who were clearly NOT burned alive! 

 But apparently, it was easily believed as evidenced by Harry Potter himself, “No! Really? Her? She doesn’t look the type…”

   “I guess crazy people come in all packages. I heard my mom talking, she doesn’t know how Dumbledore could let someone so dangerous on campus.” Ron said out loud, clearly past the point of caring if she could hear them talking anymore, “So anyway, not the kind of company I’d be wanting to keep if I were you, Harry Potter.”

   With her eyes closed, Hermione heard things shuffling around- and knew he was collecting his things, “Absolutely, let’s get out of here! Don’t want anyone to know I was sitting with her for so long.”

   She didn’t open her eyes for at least ten minutes after that, until finally she got up and closed and locked the compartment door. 

  All that composure she’d been wanting to keep? Out the window completely…

  Tears tracked down her face, sobs wracked her chest painfully, and worst of all- angry sparks seemed to be uncontrollably coming out of her hair. 

  And Hermione hated it all..

She hated that she couldn’t control herself.

  She hated that she’d let the tears win in her battle for dominance within herself.

  She hated that she had no friends.

She hated the rumors going around about her.

  And most of all, she hated being an Elemental Witch… whatever that meant- all Hermione knew was that she despised whatever this affliction she had been cursed with was. 

  She just wanted to be normal. 

Or at least a normal person who happened to also be a witch.

   Was that too much to ask? 

Chapter Text

The keychain sitting on Hermione’s coffee table was an amusing paradox- one she couldn’t help but simultaneously laugh and wonder about. 

  It was a flat, small keychain in the shape of a dog, with a paw print and a small anecdote on it's side: ‘Easily Distracted by Treats and Fast Squirrels’ 

  Was this werewolf humor?

If so… Hermione couldn’t help but chuckle that this was the portkey she was meant to use. She couldn’t deny that there were nervous feelings rumbling through her gut. 

  Draco Malfoy? 

As the Alpha of this pack?

  Draco freakin Malfoy… 

It was a mind twister for sure. Hermione hadn’t seen him in years, the last she could recall was at their Hogwarts graduation- but that was it. Since when was he a werewolf? 

  It boggled Hermione’s mind. They’d never had a particularly good relationship during their years at Hogwarts- but neither did she really have a good relationship with anyone at Hogwarts other than her coven. 

  They’d had a few spats as young adults, but they’d both grown up- and Hermione was hoping their history, as somewhat contemptuous as it was, would be put aside for their meeting today. 

  Which was why this keychain was so confusing, did Malfoy send this particular one himself? Was that a signal that he was not the bratty, uptight little boy he once was- that shockingly- he might finally have a sense of humor about his lot in life? 

 Or was this just a regular portkey they might send to anyone in order to diffuse the tension that inevitably came with the unsubstantiated preconceived notions about werewolves? 

  A million different scenarios we’re running through Hermione’s head, all of them continuing to grow in outlandishness. This cottage was the only place that made her magic sing as gorgeously as it did, regardless of the fact that it was a bit of a fixer upper- Hermione was prepared to put in the work, and pay an outlandishly stupid amount of money for it. So to think it all rests in Draco Malfoy’s hands, was making her worry more than she should. Not because she thought he might be vindictive, but because they did have history- and she wouldn’t be able to be as objectively harsh as she was able to do with a stranger. He knew her, had known her since she was a child- the front that she was able to put on during official meetings, with purebloods especially, was not as easily done with someone who had known her before.

   No! She had to stop, this wasn’t healthy- imagining all the scenarios that could go wrong.

 She would just have to do it, go with her gut and get it done. And pray to whoever was listening, that she said the right thing at the right time, to Draco Malfoy of all people.

   Without a second to doubt anything else, Hermione grabbed the portkey, and felt herself being pulled to a whole other country.

  She arrived with a stumble, almost every time she used a portkey Hermione would temporarily forget the way it felt. And traveling such a great distance, didn’t make the journey any easier either.

  Reaching inside herself, Hermione felt for her connection to the cottage. And was shocked at how far away she was from that location, when technically this was considered the same territory. The entire property must have been gigantic and could only imagine how Draco and the SLF pack acquired such a large piece of land. Or how much they might’ve paid for it.

  She never thought of Scotland as being that big. Boy, was she wrong about that…

Finally, in control of herself, Hermione looked around where she landed and was in awe- this was the pack house? 

  It was incredible, and from what she could see it almost looked like… like a campus? People were milling about, others looked to be heading to work- and for a moment, Hermione forgot where she was. This was SLF land, and these were werewolves. Who looked no different from herself… she was ashamed to admit, that for a second, she thought she might be able to tell. 

  That her magic would instantly know. And maybe if she stared long enough, or if she felt for their auras- maybe she would be able to feel their second skin ripple, but only at a glance? These people were no different from herself.

  These people were the same as her, creatures who were judged for being something they had no control over- when in reality they, and herself, were more than their ugliest label.

  In a sense, Hermione had never felt more belonging than she had in this moment. Which was ironic, as she knew none of these people, and technically did not belong here… yet.

   Her eyes were drawn to the massive centerpiece before her, a few people were sitting around one of the greatest fountains Hermione had ever seen. It was opulent, circular, and opalescent. 

  Almost reminding her of her greatest ally and closest friend- the moon. 

  Until it struck her, it most likely was created in homage to that special orb in the sky- Hermione selfishly imagined her crescent shaped friend as only her own- when in fact, the moon was worshiped by many a person. No doubt in no greater numbers, then here.

  Turning her gaze, Hermione looked behind the fountain and saw a grand building with marble stairs and large pillars, holding the structure up. The entrance doors were intricately carved out of a wood that seemed almost ancient.

  This place almost seemed otherworldly, and Hermione had seen a lot. But then again, Draco Malfoy was the Alpha of this pack. And had no doubt seen far finer things than she had, in all her life- chuckling to herself, Hermione sarcastically bet that maybe Malfoy had only accepted such a position if the place were kept up to his aristocratic standards. 

   Laughing to herself, Hermione finally realized that maybe she had been observing her surroundings for too long- panicking, she entered the building and looked around again. The inside was just as beautiful, but she had no time to dillydally. 

  Grabbing the closest person she could find, she desperately asked, “Excuse me? If you wouldn’t mind pointing me in the direction of where I could find Mr. Malfoy, I’d be very grateful.” 

   “Alpha?” He questioned, before seeing her frantic nod, “His secretary is down there. Last door on the left.” 

  Hermione thanked him profusely and ran-walked down said hall, trying her best to calm herself- she hated being tardy. 

  Not the best first impression- or second best impression, as they’d already met years ago as children. 

  Taking a deep breath, Hermione opened the final door to see an older lady sitting behind a desk, “Miss Granger. We’ve been expecting you.” 

  The woman said it with a smile, relieving Hermione slightly, “I hope I’m not too late, I had a bit of… trouble finding you.”

  A little fib didn’t hurt anyone did it? 

There had been no trouble other than her own ability to try and stop herself from getting distracted.

  She smiled at Hermione kindly and opened her mouth to respond, when a voice interrupted- like a silent assassin appearing directly behind her- Hermione nearly jumped a foot. 

  “It’s no problem. I figured you’d be curious about the place. So I factored your curiosity into our meeting schedule.” Malfoy said confidently. 

  Like he knew her so well?

 Who was he to talk about her curiosity?

 How would he know a thing about it? 

  Her tongue was tied for a moment, and all she could do is stare- because before her, was yet another specimen. Only this time, of the physical matter.

   Draco Malfoy was a complete and utter hottie.

There were no other words for it, he was stunning. And it put Hermione into shocked silence for quite a few seconds.

   He was taller and broader than she remembered, though that had been years ago- And it wasn’t a secret, he was a werewolf. 

  An Alpha werewolf.

That had to do something to your body chemistry, because there was no other reason why this boy-turned-man, had become such a fine work of art. It simply couldn’t be explained that this was only puberty. 

    If this was puberty, she either missed it completely or she would have turned into a runway model some years ago! 

  Trying her best to regain her composure, Hermione focused instead on the words that had stumbled out of his perfect mouth. 

What was it again? 

  Her curiosity? 

And his knowledge of it?

  Yes.

“Oh, did you? And did you factor my apparently innate curiosity correctly? How did I do on time?” Hermione asked sarcastically, hoping humor would mask her flustered state. To her own ears, she sounded pretty normal- she hoped.

  His eyes seemed amused, which meant she might have been unsuccessful- but he continued on regardless, “I’d say I gambled pretty accurately. Got it right within a two or three minute margin.”

  Was she that predictable? That even this virtual stranger could predict her so well? Seems unlikely. 

  But amusing nonetheless. 

 So she continued on, “Really? How’s the spread? Over or under?” 

 Draco brows rose at the gambling terms, “On that bet? I’d prefer not to say…”

  That bet?  

What? 

  Were there other bets she was unaware of? 

 Nodding his head towards the door, Malfoy gestured for her to follow him out the office- taking her back past the grand entrance, and the large fountain. 

  Only once they were on an isolated path to- where he was, no doubt leading her, did she speak again, “Hmm… Draco Malfoy? A gambler?”

  A smirk appeared, and Hermione was pleased- this face she recognized. Finally he was back again into the young boy she recalled- rather than the hunk before her.

  “Didn't expect that?” He chuckled.

“You any good?” Hermione questioned as he led her towards a gate he was holding open. Inside was a garden that rivaled any she had ever seen- and one of her best friends was a herbologist.

 It was stunning- yet again…

  There were a few dainty looking tables and chairs dispersed throughout the area, until her host finally chose one- and pulled out her chair for her, “Well I should be.”

  For a moment, Hermione forgot what they had even been speaking of- gobsmacked at the man and his manners before her, she shook herself. Realizing this was a business meeting… Not a date! 

  “Oh yeah?” She cleared her rapidly drying throat, “Why's that?”

Almost as if he read her mind- a pot of tea was summoned before them, and Draco was pouring her a cup as he jokingly spoke, “Lots of money… Makes for lots of practice, right?” 

  It felt self deprecating, and Hermione was grateful- from what she could tell, he certainly wasn’t the same annoying boy from all those years ago. 

  He had grown up. 

“Nah… I don’t think so…” she said aloud.

His blonde brows rose again, “No? Why’s that?”

  “I remember you in school. Too uptight for that, I can’t see you throwing away money… Whether it was yours or someone else’s. I don’t think so.” Hermione worried for a moment that she had gone too far, and stepped over some invisible line by bringing up their time together at Hogwarts. 

  Like he had forgotten, and at the mention of the school he might remember her again and drop his gentlemanly like demeanor at the mention of their history. 

 But again, she was proven wrong.

  Draco chuckled, and began to pour his own cup of tea, “Oh, you wound me, Granger. But… You might be right there. Besides, I only gamble when I know I can win.”

  Gesturing around, “Is that how you got this place? From what I can feel we’re miles away from the cottage. This property must be massive.”

  His brows came together a bit when she said ‘feel’ like he was confused how she might already have a connection to that small house. But he continued on after only a moment, “Well, with four legs you tend to go further a lot faster… we kinda need the space. But that’s not what we’re here to talk about, is it? It’s that old house, I believe?”

  She worried for a moment, that this was when everything would change- the charming man before her would turn into a business shrew at the drop of a hat. 

  So she spoke as if all were the same, and he was just a friend- not a business partner, or a landlord, or a date- just two friends having tea.

  “Oh no! You’ve forgotten already, I see.” Hermione sarcastically said.

  Smiling his dazzling, orthodontist’s wet dreams of smile- he responded in kind, “Well, don’t you know? We’re getting old, Granger. Practically geriatric. My mind must be slipping away from me.” 

  He was decidedly charming, she couldn’t deny. 

Had he always been this way? Hermione couldn’t recall- during their days at school, she had always been so wrapped up in her own worries- there was no way at the time she would have ever had a conversation long enough to determine if Malfoy had always been this entertaining.

  “I guess it must be my burden to remind you then?” She said with her hand on her heart.

  He was busy taking a tentative sip from his still steaming cup, and she took that moment to observe him- only to find a moment was too short a time to determine how she felt about this interaction.

  Only that, so far- she was enjoying it.

“Ah, so gallant in your endeavors. So Gryffindor of you. I should have seen it coming… But yes, unfortunately, the misfortune of recalling our agenda must fall to you, Miss Granger.” The way he said her surname, almost sent shivers down her spine- she tried to hide it, how he affected her- but was unsure at her success of the matter,“Tell me. What is it you require that had that Estate Agent so worked up for?”

  He asked the question, but Hermione figured it was facetious. 

  Draco was the Alpha. He must know everything that went on in his territory. 

  This could only be a rhetorical question.

Of that, she was sure, “You know why, Malfoy. You must.”

  “Oh I must, must I?” Draco said with a grin.

She nodded back at him while drinking her own cuppa, and spoke again, “Well, I can’t imagine you’ve become… Alpha… without knowing exactly what’s going on around you.”

  He was quiet for a while after that, seemingly affected by her use of the word ‘alpha’. So she tried to diffuse attention with her best asset: humor.

  “Besides, I learned from the best on how to get things from people like Miss Brixley.” She awkwardly joked.

  At that his brows rose humorously.

Clearly wanting her to go on, she did so- at her own peril. 

  It felt brazen to bring this up, but decided to throw caution to the wind and say it anyway, “Wave a little- no, a lot of money, squint menacingly- though I’ve can’t use ‘my father will be hearing about this’ so I’ve had to get creative and come up with my own version.”

  It was quiet yet again, and she was still digging her own grave, “But I can see why you used it so often back then. It should be a compliment- I’ve adopted it myself, because it works… I mean, it got me here, didn’t it?”

  Nothing.

He didn’t say a word.

  Until finally he let out a belly laugh that filled the entire area with bellowing guffaws, as openly and loudly as she’d ever seen him. 

  Draco took a while to settle, before looking at her once again, “That you are, Miss Granger, that you are.”

  She couldn’t help but smile back at him so fully, it having been a long while since the last time she made someone laugh so hard.

  It was infectious, she found.

“So… go ahead, ‘Wow’ me with this- no doubt very well researched- proposition you’ve prepared for me. I can’t wait to hear it.” Draco finished with a flourish.

  And Hermione began her (very well rehearsed) speech with no anxiety left in her entire being- only cool lighthearted fun, which had been missing from her life for quite some time.  

Chapter Text

Hogwarts: Second Year

  Hermione spent the entirety of her first year working: hours in the library spent trying to fully understand what an Elemental Witch was, with no friends or anyone else who wanted to associate with her. 

  The sorting hat almost stalled out sitting on her head, and it seemed the whole of the great hall was waiting with baited breath to see where she would be sorted. When the hat called out: Gryffindor!! 

  The reactions of the student body was different than anyone else, while others cheered when people were sorted into their houses- Hermione felt like Slytherin, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw let out relieved sighs when she was sorted into Gryffindor. And her own house? An almost collective groan of annoyance at having to take her on- like she was a charity case they would have to drag along.

  Hermione almost cried, yet again. But instead walked to their table like nothing was wrong, she’d make them regret their bad attitudes, she swore to herself.

  She was alone. But at the time, she was alright with that- somewhat. 

  Her research was incredibly informative, but what frustrated her more: was the fact that all the faculty here at Hogwarts clearly knew what she was… and yet they did nothing to help her understand herself. Every class she took, was the same curriculum as every other student- she was never pulled aside to be tutored specifically in who or what she was. 

  She was again treated as an outcast by everyone around her, including the adults. 

  So she did what she always had to do: forge ahead on her own.

   Hermione discovered that the Hogwarts library had many texts that spoke of how loathed and despised Elemental witches were- but few spoke of the reasons why that was. She checked out every book she could get her hands on, no doubt making the head librarian detest seeing Hermione’s bushy head coming her way.

  It wasn’t until half way through her first semester, that she discovered newspapers from the past were archived in a certain section for history. Clearly news outlets of the past and present greatly exaggerated their findings in order to sell papers- but they were less inclined to make people ‘read between the lines’ 

  They did not believe in subtle implications. 

These wizarding ‘journalists’ knew bold, crazy headlines got peoples tongues wagging. 

  Hermione deduced that Elementals were first despised by the Wizengamot- basically the wizarding world's form of government- because they had a freedom that other citizens did not have. 

  Since the late 1600’s every young witch or wizard was subjected to something called The Trace, which was a charm placed on children to help detect magical offenses.

  The reason Elementals were so abhorrent to the Wizengamot was because Elemental Witches' powers were somehow able to circumvent The Trace. Though they didn’t do it intentionally, the result was the same- their use of magic was unable to be tracked.

  Hermione theorized it was because Elemental witches were more attuned with their inner magic, and able to cast without the use of a wand. Though Elementals like herself are still able to use wands, it was not necessary in order to use wandless magic. 

  Of course this was a trait that was taken advantage of by certain people, it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. But the connotations and prejudice that came with being labeled an Elemental, forced many into hiding.

  Being an Elemental was not as uncommon as it was made to seem, but in the wizarding world- once a family discovered their child had those powers, they would stop at nothing to hide that information from ever getting out.

  The only reason Hermione was being so reviled was because she was a Muggleborn- which was apparently quite rare for an Elemental- and once her powers began to manifest, her parents were unable to hide what she was. 

   Part of what gave Elementals such a bad reputation was the fact that pureblood’s would vehemently hide if a member of their family were an Elemental, while at the same time they would happily use that juvenile Elementals powers for nefarious purposes. Apparently, many young Elementals were forced to perform magic that their family wanted kept secret from the government. So a pureblood family would publicly bash any and all mentions of Elementals in order to deflect suspicion, while also generously ‘loaning’ out their underage Elemental witch to people who wanted them to perform illegal magic. 

   It made Hermione understand a bit more why the subject of Elementals was so taboo, and also made her wonder how many undercover Elementals were secretly living amongst the rest of Wizarding London.

   Strangely though, by the end of the year, Hermione had decided that by her being ‘outed’ as an Elemental, was actually an advantage. Where others spent nearly their whole life hiding who they were and denying the beautiful magic within themselves- Hermione was free to just be. And to prove the notion that Elementals were somehow inferior with wand magic as an incorrect representation of her kind.

  She would be the smartest, strongest, unable to be patronized, most capable version of an Elemental Witch this world had ever seen.

  And while she was lonely her entire first year, spite was an emotion she befriended quite closely. 

 Her only other companions were the generous and kind house elves who worked and lived in Hogwarts castle. With no one to sit with at breakfast, lunch, or dinner- she would often skip meals in favor of reading in the library. The elves that worked in the kitchens found out about this and did not like it, at first they thought she was insulting their cooking- only to find that wasn’t the case.

  Hermione missed dinners with her parents, and the lonely meal times in the great hall were a sad kind of replacement- so she just wouldn’t go. 

  Somehow the elves found out why she was skipping meals, and felt a sense of compassion for the young girl. 

   In fact there was a kind of kinship between herself and elves, both creatures with inherent magic that was misunderstood by almost the whole of wizarding society. Hermione tried handing out socks, and sweaters as much as she could- once she found out about their ‘employment’ with the castle, but found most just chuckled and said this was all they knew, and that this was their home. 

  After that, many times she would find a charmed plate of food on her bedside table- or bananas and apples slipped secretly into her book bag. 

  If she could have, Hermione would have spent her entire free time, hanging out with the elves of Hogwarts- but they were busy, and claimed it wasn’t ‘proper’ to only have house elves for companionship. They tried encouraging her to find friends, and put herself out there- they spoke like they knew something she didn’t, and it frustrated her. But eventually she gave in and spent an hour a week in the great hall with everyone else, on the off chance someone might speak to her- other than that she was either in a classroom, the library or in her room. 

  She never was successful at her ‘attempts’ at socialization. 

   But by the end of the year, Hermione was first in her entire class, blowing her professors' minds and earning more points for the house cup than the Quidditch team did their entire season. People thought it was impossible, many accused her of cheating- and Hermione reveled in it. She was better than anyone could understand, and she didn’t let her type of magic ‘handicap’ her in any way, like this entire school- no, world- thought that it would. 

  She was giddy in her achievement, and that night she found a small cupcake with a lit candle waiting for her on her trunk- a gift from the elves who could see how hard she had tried all year. 

  It nearly brought tears to her eyes. And the elves at Hogwarts were the only people she said farewell to, genuine sadness at having to wait a few months before seeing them again. They promised the summer months would fly by, and Hermione would be back faster than she thought possible.

   Hermione went home on the Hogwarts express that year, excited to get home and continue her research. Figuring as Elementals were so often cast out of wizarding society, that many might have chosen exile into the muggle world as an alternative, rather than a life of constantly being treated as less than. 

  She spent the summer at the local library, checking out books or perusing a brand new freshly invented research engine: the World Wide Web- which had been created while she was at Hogwarts during her first year. Other than that she was in her room reading those books, her parents were pleased that she seemed to have more of an understanding of her magic. 

  But in truth Hermione was still pretty in the dark, it frustrated her to no end that there were absolutely no books for people like her: in the Wizarding world or the muggle world. 

  So instead Hermione- at almost 12 years old- decided to create her own. She bought a lovely leather bound notebook from the local store with as much allowance as she could afford, and began writing down what she had deduced or discovered.

  She penned that most magical and muggle researchers agreed there were four elements. And seeing as she was an Elemental witch, it wasn’t a huge leap to assume that had something to do with her situation. 

  The four elements are earth, water, air, and fire.

It wasn’t hard to imagine what her affinity was: her memories of her bedroom in flames made it pretty obvious she was likely a Fire Witch. 

  What each element represented was more disputed, but she had come to her own conclusions a bit.

    Earth: represents solidity and fastidiousness.

    Water: represents cohesion and unity.

    Air: represents temperature and serenity.

    Fire: represents motion and decisiveness. 

Scientists in the muggle world provided examples for how these four elements were almost always intertwined in one way or another. One element was almost never alone in it's usefulness- which made her think a lot about what that might mean for herself…

   It was theorized that the four elements were the key building blocks in the fundamentals of life. For example, if someone were needing to start a fire in order to stay alive- with the burning of a wooden log exhibited all four elements: the hungry flames represented fire, the smoke rising up represented air, the hissing steam from the moisture in the wood represented water, and the ashes that formed during and after represented earth. 

  All four seemed quite inextricably intertwined.

And it only made her wonder if she wasn’t meant to be alone? If there were others who she was supposed to create magic with…

  Going back to Hogwarts began the same way as it ended the year prior: with Hermione being ostracized from her own House, despite the fact that she had been the major reason why Gryffindor won the House Cup the year before. Sure… they wanted what she could give them, expected her to work hard and earn those points for their benefit, but they certainly wouldn’t dignify her with the respect of a cheerful ‘hello’ or even an acknowledgment of her presence. She was just a useful nuisance to these people- and Hermione hated it.

   Her latest realization involving her research into the elements, was that her powers were most likely reinvigorated by nature and time spent in the outdoors. She had always loved the rain, or a cool autumn nip in the air- so Hermione actually enjoyed the hour-long walks she was penciling into her daily schedule. 

   It was on one of those walks that she saw a girl, who was from the same year as herself, standing in the frightfully chilly and damp grass, looking up into the sky while staring at nothing- while wearing no shoes! The closer Hermione grew, she could see how pink the girls feet were turning. 

  What could this girl possibly be thinking? Walking around with no shoes?!

  Maybe it was Hermione’s warm blooded nature- being a Fire Witch- but she didn’t really feel bone chilling cold that often, in fact at the moment Hermione was feeling rather toasty. But for some inexplicable reason, Hermione could feel the biting cold in her own toes. Like this strangers bad decision was slowly creeping up on her- so she had an idea. 

  Maybe it was foolish?

It probably was…

  Maybe it was crazy?

Oh, it definitely was with her track record…

  Maybe it was the outdoor air making her feel bold?

She should write that feeling down for later, if she didn’t wind up killing the girl…

   Hermione wanted to try using her particular powers to warm up this girl's feet- thereby warming up her own in the process.

 See? There was logic somewhere in this plan…

    All she had to do was hope she didn’t light this strangers feet on fire- no biggie? 

  Right? 

Trying to casually come to a stop, so as not to arouse suspicion, Hermione pretended to be interested in a particularly ‘fascinating’ bush in front of her. 

  Instead she raised her hand slightly, in the blond girls direction- and concentrated. On what exactly? She wasn’t sure. But Hermione persisted, thinking solely warm thoughts and imagining that her own feet would no longer feel slightly frosty. 

  After almost five minutes of sweaty concentration, Hermione felt it- it was working! 

  Slowly, but working nonetheless. And this girls feet were NOT on fire… 

I’d call that a win, for sure!

  Trying her best to hide her giddiness at her first real attempt at controlling her power into a singular direction- was next to impossible. But Hermione tried anyway, attempting to casually walk by the barefooted girl without a crazy looking grin on her face.

   As Hermione passed the blonde girl, she suddenly spoke, and confused Hermione to the core, “Thanks, my toes have been awful cold these past few days. I feel much better now…” 

   What?

     Huh?

       How did she- 

        This girl could tell she was using her powers?

             How? 

                 Just….. how??

                       ???