Handshakes
The train to Hogwarts would be leaving soon, but Hermione had already been aboard for almost two hours, her new robes donned. Her train ticket had said ‘Platform 9 ¾’, which had immediately worried her and her parents, so they had arrived at the station hours early to make sure they found the right entrance. After watching a pair of equally early students pushing trolleys piled high with magical supplies run through the wall, Hermione had bid her parents goodbye before stepping through the wall herself, pulling her own supplies behind her.
The platform had been mostly empty, so Hermione had waited on a bench for the train to pull into the station. As soon as the doors opened, she boarded quickly and chose a compartment near the front, wanting to get an early start off the train once they arrived. She sat quietly in her compartment by herself, reading Hogwarts: A History for the fourth time in the past month. Her nerves were making her sick, and they only eased once she was focused on her preparations for school.
Eventually the train began to move, and she lurched forward in her seat before catching herself. She glanced around the small cabin- no one had chosen to sit with her. That’s alright. They just don’t know me yet.
As soon as she had the thought, a small boy with messy, dirty-blonde hair and a round, pink face stumbled into the compartment. Hermione’s eyes widened, and her heart leaped- a friend! She offered a tentative hello, her mind already flicking through what she could say to earn his friendship.
“Oh- hello. Can I sit here? All the other seats are full,” the boy says breathlessly. He looked a mess, like he had run from his house to the train at the last minute, his hair slightly windblown. His robes were wrinkled and slightly too large on him.
Hermione smiles and scoots over toward the window, giving him room to sit. “Of course! I’m Hermione Granger. Nice to meet you.” She offers her hand, and the boy slides into the seat next to her with a relieved look before shaking her hand.
“Neville Longbottom. Pleasure.” He returns her smile somewhat shyly, absently attempting to flatten his hair. He sets his satchel down beside him, and it squirms slightly, as if there's something alive inside.
Hermione notices but doesn’t comment, not wanting to ruin her chances at her first friend. She wracks her brain, trying to think of a conversation topic. She’s never been good at this. Should she make small talk, ask about his favourite color or food? Or should she engage him in something more academic? Her eyes study him, trying to discern what he might be interested in.
Neville doesn’t seem the bookish type. He looks as if he’d have his head in the clouds, but a different sort then Hermione’s. He’s looking around the cabin nervously, his hands twitching in his lap, occasionally brushing the seat next to him. She tilts her head, trying to get a read on him, but she’s not particularly well-versed in people, so she decides to bite the bullet and just ask outright.
“What are you interested in?” she asks, trying to keep her tone neutral.
Neville stares at her before he mumbles, his words tripping over themselves. “I like… plants. H- Herbology.” Gods, he’s more awkward than me, Hermione thinks with amusement. How do you mess up a 4 word answer?
Outwardly, she gives him another smile. “Herbology? It does seem interesting. I’m excited to learn. My mother had a garden back home, of course, and I helped her on weekends. She grew a variety of herbs and even some vegetables- I particularly enjoyed the carrots. She’d make what my dad called ‘candy carrots’, where she’d cook them slow in a pot with a bit of butter and brown sugar and top them with some fresh rosemary from the garden,” she rambles, her brain regurgitating every experience she’s ever had with plants in an attempt to relate to the boy next to her.
Neville’s eyes widen at the burst of information, and he blinks rapidly. “Er- sure. I meant more, um, magical plants, you know? But those seem nice too,” he adds hurriedly. Then he cocks his head, studying her. “Are you a muggleborn?”
Hermione winces. How’d she already ruin her cover? This boy is as socially inept as her, and even he can tell she isn’t from the wizarding world. “Yeah. My parents are dentists.”
The boy gives her a soft smile. “That sounds nice. I mean, I don’t know what a ‘dentist’ is, but the parent bit is nice. My parents were Aurors.”
She tilts her head, not missing the past tense used. Were? She considers asking, but decides against it. She doesn’t know him well enough, and can’t predict his reaction. “Dentists are like doctors for your teeth. They make sure you’re healthy. There’s even different types- like Orthodontists, that work with jaw structure and the alignment of your teeth.”
Neville nods, but his eyes glaze with the uninterested look Hermione is used to. She drops the subject, instead looking out the window. Why was this so hard? She watches the sky in silence for a while, the rolling green hills lit up beautifully with the lovely day. Only a few puffy white clouds mark the sky, casting shadows into the trees zooming past. She lets her mind wander, her anxiety over her first day of classes and the Sorting Ceremony returning as she listens to the sound of the train racing down the tracks.
Hermione is jolted out of her spiraling thoughts by a yelp from Neville, and she turns to see a knobbly, squat looking gray toad sitting in the middle of the compartment. She glances at Neville. “That your pet?” He nods and lunges to grab the creature, but it hops out of his reach, leaving Neville sprawled on the floor.
The toad gives Neville an unamused look before hopping out of the cabin. “Trevor!” Neville scrambles off the ground, heading after the aptly named grotesque looking thing. Hermione sighs and returns to looking out the window, before she pauses. What if she found the boy’s pet for him? Then he’d be grateful and he’d have to be her friend, right?
She debates with herself for a moment before sliding off the seat and following after Neville. She checks several compartments, politely asking the inhabitants if they’ve seen a toad. Everyone she asks shake their heads, looking disgruntled at being interrupted.
As Hermione slowly runs out of compartments to check, she begins to worry. What if Neville never finds his pet? He’s probably quite attached to it, judging by his reaction to its disappearance. She passes a compartment and stops- the pale boy from the alley is inside, chatting with 3 other children who must be his friends. Lucky him, she thinks ruefully.
She watches the boy for a moment. He’s sitting next to a shorter girl with a perfectly styled bob, and the girl is chatting with him animatedly. In front of him, two other boys sit, one tall and dark, his arms crossed, the other more bookish and slouching in his seat. Hermione wonders how he knew the three, and how long they’ve been friends. Would be nice if I had friends to bring to school.
The pale boy seems mildly interested in whatever the girl is saying, but his eyes drift to the window every so often, and his fingers shift in his pockets. Probably fiddling with a wand.
With a sigh, Hermione continues on her way. Perhaps if the boy had been alone, she would’ve stopped and asked him his name, but he seemed busy. She catches sight of a tear-streaked Neville stepping out of the last compartment, and she hurries over.
“Neville! I guess you haven’t found Trevor yet?” Neville sniffs sadly in confirmation, and Hermione gives him a sympathetic look. “Don’t worry. We’ll find him. Let’s check the compartments again- maybe he’s moved around.”
She pulls Neville into a compartment she hadn’t yet had the opportunity to check. Inside are two boys, one with messy black hair and broken round glasses, the other with ginger hair and a soft smattering of freckles across his cheeks. She clears her throat to catch their attention. “Has anyone seen a toad? Neville’s lost one,” she said in her calmest tone, before her eyes catch on the wand in the ginger boy’s hand.
Hermione’s eyes light up- these must be students that grew up with magic! She’d finally be able to see it in action from someone of a similar age to her, and compare how their abilities were to hers. She sits down across from the boys eagerly. “Are you doing magic? Let’s see it, then.”
The ginger boy looks startled, but coughs slightly and points his wand at the rat in his hand, which Hermione has only just noticed. “Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow- turn this stupid, fat rat yellow!” He waves his wand with a flourish, but nothing happens. The rat stays grey, squeaking slightly, its nose twitching. Hermione squashes her disappointment and attempts to distract the boy from his failure.
“Are you sure that’s a real spell? I’ve tried a few simple spells, for practice, of course, and it’s all worked for me,” she continues, speaking quickly and beginning to ramble. “Nobody in my family’s magical at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it’s the very best school of witchcraft there is, I’ve heard. I’ve learned all our course books by heart, of course, and I hope it’ll be enough to be caught up to everyone else. Anyway, I’m Hermione Granger. Who are you?”
Both boys give her blank looks, before the ginger boy finally mutters, lowering his wand. “I’m Ron Weasley.”
The boy with glasses responds a beat after. “Harry Potter.”
Hermione breathes a sigh of relief- something she knows! “Are you really? I know all about you, of course. I got a few extra books for background reading, and you’re mentioned in three major historical works.”
Harry looks dazed, and tilts his head. “Am I?”
She takes that as an invitation for an explanation, and tries to relate to him. “Goodness, didn’t you know? I’d have found out everything I could if it were me. Do either of you know what House you’ll be in? I’m hoping for Gryffindor, because it sounds the best- anyway, if you haven’t seen the toad, I’ll be going.” She glances at the boys, neither of which are dressed in their school robes, and sighs. “You’d really better get changed. I expect we’ll be there soon.”
Hermione stands, sliding the door of the cabin back closed as she leads Neville into the next to look for Trevor. They look for the toad for the rest of the train ride, but with no luck. As she looks, she disguises her guilt at her distraction. She can’t really focus on searching for the pet, as her mind is still caught on the two boys in the cabin. They had seemed alright. Maybe she could be friends with them?
~
Draco is about to get on the train to Hogwarts, if his mother ever lets him go. Both Narcissa and Lucius came to see him off, excited to see their perfect, pureblood heir start his journey to Hogwarts. Narcissa is fussing over Draco’s appearance, wanting him to make a good impression.
They’re quite early, having arrived before the Muggle day began so that they avoid any unwanted interactions. The few Muggles present look sleepy and tousled, carrying cases as they board early trains, clad in finely tailored suits and work clothes. They don’t look much different than his own father leaving for the Ministry in the mornings.
“Mother, I’m fine. You’re overdoing the fussing. Can’t I get on the train already?” Draco scowls, moving out of his mother’s reach and smoothing his hair back down. He had been standing patiently as Narcissa fixed up Draco’s already impeccable robes, but this is too much.
Narcissa gives him a mildly annoyed look, but stops messing with his hair, instead clasping her hands together. Draco gazes around the platform, his eyes travelling over the few people waiting on benches or standing impatiently. He walks with his parents through the Platform 9 ¾ wall, paying no mind to any Muggles that might be watching.
The train has already arrived, and Draco wants to find his friends who are likely already inside. He turns to his parents. “I’m going to board the train. I’ll see you at Christmas.”
His mother rests a hand on his shoulder, her blue eyes glittering with a sort of melancholy pride. “Okay, dragon. Be careful, and be good.” Draco nods and turns to head toward the train, but his father stops him. Lucius bends a little to speak directly to Draco, his voice soft.
“Draco, I want you to remember who you are.” Surprise flashes over Draco’s face- how could he forget who he is? But his father is generally a no-nonsense person, and rarely speaks with Draco unless absolutely necessary. His words now must be significant. Draco angles himself toward his father, paying him full attention.
Lucius rests his hands on both his shoulders, squeezing slightly, his long hair falling forward. “You’re a Malfoy, and you have an image to uphold. I expect you to carry yourself with dignity and elegance. Be polite, but don’t let others give you any trouble. Befriend children from high families, because they will help you in the future. Understand?”
Draco nods solemnly, knowing better than to speak against his father. Even though he isn’t yet sure if he agrees with his father’s words, he knows it pleases his parents when he seems like a proper pureblood. Besides, his parents have been preparing him for his first year for months on end. He’s been trained how to act and speak, and now is no different. “Yes, father. I will be perfect, I promise.”
His father gives him a proud smile before releasing him and nudging him toward the train, but Narcissa calls him back again. Draco sighs inwardly, trying valiantly not to roll his eyes. “Yes, mother?”
Narcissa fixes his hair again and straightens his robes, fussing over him again. She pats his arm and nods, examining him as if he were a prized horse. “Perfect. My baby boy, all grown up. You’ll make us proud, won’t you?”
Draco can’t stop himself from rolling his eyes this time, resisting the urge to swat his mother’s hands away. He knows she’s just looking after him, so he forces a small smile. “Yes, mother. I’ll make you proud.”
Narcissa beams at him and Lucius gives him a small, approving nod, making Draco glow with happiness. His mother gives him a gentle nudge toward the train. “Go on. Off you go, darling, before the train leaves without you.”
He gives his father an awkward nod and his mother a polite kiss on the cheek before turning and finally boarding the train. He can faintly hear his parents talking behind him, but he pays them no mind.
Draco quickly strides through the train, checking compartments for his friends. He takes notes of the children within the cabins he passes- first years, some of them, and others second and third. Some older kids he can’t place. A few of the students give him curious looks, recognizing him by his pale hair, but he doesn’t look back.
Eventually he finds his friends, already chatting and giggling together in a compartment near the back. Blaise Zabini looks haughty as always, Theodore Nott already slouching in his seat now that he’s away from the watchful eye of his father. Pansy Parkinson is sitting across from the two boys, and Draco takes his seat next to her with a relieved sigh.
“Malfoy! Almost thought your mother was holding you back a year, took you so long to show up,” Blaise snickers. Theo and Pansy laugh as well, but all three are glad to see Draco. They catch each other up on their summers, though they spent most of their time together anyway.
Blaise had spent the summer travelling with his mother, so they hadn’t seen much of him. His mother was an odd one, famously beautiful, and had been widowed seven times already, but her food is always excellent when Blaise invites them over. The other three just make sure to avoid the topic of his dead stepfathers.
Theo had spent the summer with his strict father, and had often snuck out to spend time with Draco and Pansy. They enjoyed ice cream together or skipped stones in the man-made pond at Malfoy Manor, laughing long into the evenings. Theo often arrived with badly hidden tears, and Pansy would always try her best to cheer him up, Draco bringing him snacks nicked from the Manor kitchens.
Pansy’s summer was much the same, though her mother had pushed her into more tedious etiquette lessons that she despised. Anytime there was a lull in the conversation, Pansy would rant about the old-fashioned teachings and smothering of her spirit, while the boys made sympathetic noises in response. All of them took etiquette classes, but Pansy’s were extra stifling. Her newly cut bob was her way of quietly rebelling against her parents.
The train ride goes by quickly, and soon the group runs out of topics to discuss. Pansy engages Blaise in a conversation about Quidditch at Hogwarts. Everyone knows Blaise had been practicing his flying any time he could, and it was expected that he would make the team, even as a first year. Slytherin, of course. The four had no doubts about their House.
Draco is listening to Pansy ramble absently, his eyes watching the terrain fly by, when a flash of movement catches his attention outside the compartment door. He turned to look, but whatever it was had already gone. Tilting his head, he furrows his brow, waiting a moment to see if the movement returns, but he’d missed it. He sighs and turns back to Pansy, paying attention fully now to her tirade.
Soon the train has pulled into Hogsmeade Station, and a voice echoes through the cars, announcing that the students may now exit. Draco and his friends stand and stretch, shaking out cramped limbs from the long ride. They follow the other first years to the Black Lake, marvelling at the unmanned boats waiting patiently at the shore.
As the boat holding Draco glides into the water, the screaming sounds of crickets slowly fade. The ride across the lake is pleasant, and only the soft murmurs of other students drift across the water, a gentle lapping of the waves kissing the hull of the boat. Draco had secretly been worried that the boat ride was scary, since the Lake is said to be dark in the evenings, with rolling fog obscuring anything further than a few feet, but he was relieved to enjoy the ride.
He watches the boats ahead of his slide into the docking station beneath Hogwarts castle, their lamps dimming as the students exit. His own lamp still flickers, casting a warm glow on the dark water. When he reaches the dock, he stands carefully to avoid rocking the boat before hopping onto the dock planks, extending his hand to help Theo out as well. He pulls his friend to safety and gives a soft sneer to the boat before turning to follow the other students into the castle.
His father had told him how the castle would be, of course, but he still stares wide-eyed at the hundreds of paintings adorning the walls as the first-years are shuffled toward the Great Hall. Once he realizes other students are staring as well, he quickly masks his expression into one of indifference, nudging Theo to remind the boy to shut his mouth. Blaise snorts at the interaction, and Pansy rolls her eyes.
The group stops outside the doors to the Great Hall, waiting nervously to be admitted. An older woman with half-moon spectacles, who introduces herself as Professor McGonagall, is waiting to greet them, her face stern. She doesn’t speak at first, allowing the last few stragglers to catch up, before she begins.
“Welcome to Hogwarts. The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting Ceremony is important, because your housemates will be your family. You will share classes, meals, and free time with them.
“The four Houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and long lineage of successful alumni. While you are here, your triumphs and mistakes will affect your House points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honor.
“The Sorting Ceremony will begin momentarily, and the entire school will be watching. I suggest you make sure you are happy with your appearance before it starts.” McGonagall sweeps into the Great Hall, shutting the doors behind her, leaving the first-years alone.
Draco shifts his weight back and forth, excitement outweighing his nerves. He knew he would be a Slytherin, but this was the moment it would be cemented. He tries to distract himself by studying the crowd of first-years nervously discussing what might happen during the ceremony, and notices a boy near the front with messy black hair and round glasses. He does a double take- had the rumors of Harry Potter coming to Hogwarts been true?
He watches from a distance, unsure if the boy is really the Harry Potter. If Draco approaches him and he’s not, then he would be making a fool of himself. He notices the boy speaking to a ginger boy of equal height next to him, and huffs. Must be a Weasley. Only they’ve got hair so red.
The black-haired boy turns, shaking his head at something the Weasley boy had said, and his bangs slip to the side, revealing a lightning-bolt scar. He was right- this must be Harry Potter. He pushes through the crowd excitedly, leaving his friends behind- this boy was certainly someone his father would approve of making friends with. Draco smooths his hair and robes before approaching the boy with a smile, his thoughts racing with excitement.
“Is it true, then? You’re Harry Potter?” he says, keeping his voice cool to hide his eagerness. The boy- Harry- nods, glancing at the Weasley boy. Draco smiles, glad he was right.
“My name’s Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.” The Weasley boy coughs, obviously hiding a giggle, and Draco carefully schools his face to hide his embarrassment as he turns to face the ginger.
“Think my name’s funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasley’s have red hair and freckles, and you fit that perfectly.” He mentally congratulates himself on his easy defence, turning back to Harry proudly, expecting agreement or even a hint of awe at his sharp comeback. Seeing no reaction, he continues, hoping to get on the boy’s good side.
“You’ll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don’t want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there.” He offers his hand to shake Harry’s but the boy doesn’t reciprocate, instead replying dryly.
“I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks.”
Draco tries to hide his shock, wondering where he went wrong, but he can feel the heat in his cheeks. He hadn’t meant to insinuate Weasley was the wrong sort, maybe, but Potter seems to have taken it that way. His hand is left in the air, stiff and unwanted, as the boys turn away.
Suddenly, a familiar bush of brown curls appears in front of him. The girl from the alley, the muggleborn who had bought all the books, takes his hand and shakes it with a smile. Draco’s mouth drops in shock- what was she doing, shaking his hand? He goes to pull away, but she glances around to make sure the other students have turned away, before she whispers to Draco.
“I’m helping you. Looks less awkward- you were trying to shake my hand the whole time. Not Potter’s.” She releases his hand with a soft smile and speaks louder, so the others can hear. “I’m Hermione Granger. Nice to meet you, Draco.”
Hermione Granger. So that was her name. Fits her, he finds himself thinking, before he shakes his head. “Erm- yeah. Thanks. Nice to meet you, too.” He slowly lowers his hand, his cheeks no longer burning, and finds himself feeling incredibly grateful. He wasn’t made a fool, because of this girl. Hermione.
Then he freezes- what would his father think? This girl is muggleborn. Certainly not what Lucius had meant when he told Draco to make friends with children of ‘high families’. He opens his mouth to inform the girl of this, that they are not friends and never can be, despite her brazenly shaking his hand in front of all these students, but the look on her face makes him stop.
She seems so pleased with herself. Her emotions are all over her face, like someone splashed paint on a wall and drew a smiley face with a fingertip, or something like that. Could he really crush her happiness? She had helped him, after all.
So he says nothing. He closes his mouth and gives her a polite nod, just as McGonagall returns to bring them into the Great Hall for the Sorting Ceremony.
~
As the first-years are led into the Great Hall, Hermione can’t keep the wide grin off her face, no matter how hard she tries to squash it. She had made a friend! She stood up and shook the pale boy- Draco’s- hand, in front of all those people.
She’s practically skipping into the Hall, paying no attention to the older students watching the first-years led in. Draco had disappeared into the crowd again, but she didn’t really mind. She’d see him again. They have a whole year of school to become friends.
The Sorting Ceremony commences, and names are called, the occasional call of ‘SLYTHERIN’ or ‘HUFFLEPUFF’ disturbing the silence, followed by clapping of the respective table. Hermione watches the students get sorted, not minding in the slightest when the ginger boy from earlier- what was his name?- is sorted into Gryffindor. At last her name is called, and she bounds toward the stool, plopping down and setting the Sorting Hat on her head.
Hmm. Intelligent one, you are. You have a strong thirst for knowledge, to understand. You’d make a good Ravenclaw, the Hat murmurs in her mind. Her eyes widen and she inhales sharply, surprised that the Hat spoke in her mind. She supposed it made sense, since the thing would have to understand a person on a deep level to sort them into a permanent House. She holds her breath as the Hat continues.
But I sense something else… bravery, perhaps? Your intelligence is strong, certainly, but it does not define you. You’ve a strong moral code and sense of justice. You wouldn’t be afraid to stand up for what you think is right, the Hat muses. Hermione internally preens at the praise. Almost no one ever compliments anything past her thinking skills and deep knowledge.
She stays completely still as the Hat finally makes its decision. “GRYFFINDOR!” Hermione hops off the stool, ecstatic, watching as the table of Gryffindors- her table, she reminds herself- cheer for her, clapping and whistling. She takes her seat next to the ginger boy from earlier, a warm feeling in her chest.
Moments later, she hears Draco’s name called, and she snaps her head up to watch him. What House would he be in? Hopefully hers, so they could become even closer friends. She finds herself holding her breath again as the pale boy swaggers over to the stool. The Hat is barely atop his head a moment before it shouts, ‘SLYTHERIN!’, and his new House cheers. Hermione is slightly disappointed, but she quickly pushes it away. There’s no rule against being friends with other Houses, right? Of course there isn’t. I read Hogwarts: A History and it mentioned nothing of the sort.
Draco doesn’t look at Hermione as he takes his place among his housemates. She watches him a moment before turning back to watch the rest of the Ceremony, still grinning proudly. She’d been sorted into the House she wanted, she hadn’t made any mistakes, and she’d already made a friend. This is going to be an excellent year.