Chapter One: Accepted

“Merlin’s pants.”

“Holy bowtruckle.”

“Oh my Grindylow.”

These words were uttered by seventeen year-old Hermione Granger and her two best friends, Ron Weasley and Harry Potter, as they sat on the couches in Shell Cottage, reading the piece of paper Hermione was currently clutching.

Said piece of paper was a letter from the Magical Institute – a letter saying she’d gotten accepted to their six-month training program in South America.

“I can’t believe you got in,” Ron said incredulously, staring at the paper as though it was on fire. Hermione cast him a dark look, slightly offended.

“What?” Ron asked, his familiar red head looking up. “I mean, it’s the freaking Magical Institute! Do you know how hard it is to get in?” Hermione didn’t respond, because she did know how hard it was to get in. After all, she was the one who’d practically slaved her entire school years to get this.

The Magical Institute was a group of wizards from around the world who were united to strengthen global ties within the wizarding community, as well as to educate young aspiring wizards. Some of the world’s most famous magicians had been a part of this Institute – Hermione even read somewhere that Dumbledore had been a part of it once.

Of course, you had to finish the training program, set over a period of six months in a remote location in South America, before you could be inducted into the Magicians Hall in the Institute.

Hermione, admittedly, was just as amazed as Ron that she’d managed to get in. Only six other wizards around the world had gotten in, and since this was done only every four years, that was saying something.

“Well,” Harry countered Ron’s argument, “its Hermione. They must have seen her perfect grades and realized it was too good a chance to pass up.”

He smacked Hermione on the back proudly. “See, Herms? I told you all that hard work and studying would pay off eventually!” Hermione nearly burst into laughter, because Harry had never told her such a thing. In fact, he’d teased and discouraged her for her brains, commitment, and studious attitude for all seven of their years at Hogwarts.

“Well, at least you’ve got something interesting to do for the next six months,” Ron said, encouraging her. “And it’ll be fun. What’s the worst that can happen, you run into a few pureblood Slytherins along the way?” He realized her face had fallen at his last few words.

“Oh no,” Hermione whispered fearfully, remember her deepest, darkest uncertainties. “What if they all hate me? What if they think I don’t deserve it because I’m Muggleborn?” Harry shot Ron a scolding glance, as if to say “Smooth move, Ron”..

“It’ll be fine,” Harry reassured Hermione. “Besides, I doubt many Slytherins could make it in, anyway.” Hermione breathed a sigh of relief as she realized how right his words were. For all seven years she’d known them, the Slytherins at Hogwarts had mediocre grades and numerous detentions along with their horrible attitudes. None of them had any chance, right?

“So can we celebrate now?” Ron asked, grabbing a pie from the group of numerous foods stacked around him on the table. Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes at the typical Ron behavior.

“Celebrate what?” Fleur asked, coming in from the kitchen where she’d been cooking a hearty meal involving many strong herbs.

Ron barely looked up as he responded, “She got into the Magical Institute, she’s leaving for South America for six months tomorrow.” Although the sound came out quite muffled with his stuffed mouth of pie and whatnot, Fleur seemed to understand perfectly. She half-skipped, half-ran to Hermione and hugged her in a tight embrace.

“Zat is so wonderful!” Fleur commented. She jumped up and down with Hermione and squealed as only girls can do. Hermione personally thought Fleur was just happy there would be one less person in the house, hence once less to feed and take up space. She decided not to voice her opinions in fear of being rude to the woman who’d so kindly given her a home these past few months.

Bill came in just as their hugging session ended, and raised an eyebrow at the commotion.

“What’s going on?” Panic and worry lined his already scarred face.

“Oh, nothing,” Harry said casually, acting innocent. “Hermione just got into the Magical Institute!”

Bill dropped his drink and ran to Hermione as he heard Harry’s words, high-fiving her and shaking her hand. Hermione noticed how he’d moved to hug her but had stopped himself; although he was like a brother to her, she and Bill still weren’t quite that comfortable with each other.

“That’s great!” Bill said enthusiastically. Hermione noticed, behind his back, that Ginny was coming down the stairs in a sleeping robe, rubbing her eyes. She stopped in mid-yawn as she noticed the scene in front of her. Hermione could practically hear the click! in Ginny’s brain as she pieced everything together – the paper, the astonished faces, the happy, glowing Hermione – and in an instant, Hermione was practically pummeled to the ground.

Once Ginny let go, the screaming started.

“Holy (beep)! I can’t (beep)ing believe this! This is (beep)ing awesome! (Beep)! (Beep)!” Ginny ignored the pained expression on Bill’s face – he was not used to such profanity – and continued her swearing.

After she’d calmed down, and Hermione had gotten another congratulations from everyone in the room, they settled down to talk.

“Does this mean we can celebrate?” Ron asked again, interrupting the conversation. Before anyone could respond, he’d conjured a tray with a variety of drinks, grabbing himself a Butterbeer. Hermione and Harry followed suit, and Ginny choose a Firewhisky. Noticing Bill beginning to scold her, she cut in, “Shut your trap, Bill, and let us have some fun.”

Even Hermione laughed, thinking excitedly about the six months ahead of her.

“Hermione, are you sure you’re okay?” Hermione sighed. She’d been hearing precisely those words coming out of Mrs. Weasley’s mouth every minute for the past three hours. Once Ron had called to tell the news, Mrs. Weasley had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, ignoring the questions of what she was doing there (“I’m your mother, Bill. Aren’t I allowed to visit?”). For the past few hours, she’d been pestering Hermione with constant questions as she tried to help her pack.

Sometimes, Hermione truly felt bad for Ron.

“Are you sure you don’t need your Hypermodulating Ventriculation Toothbrush?” Mrs. Weasley asked cautiously.

“Yes, I’m sure!” Hermione huffed, trying to relax and count to ten. It was no use; she felt like slapping Mrs. Weasley would do a better job of relieving her stress. However, Hermione tried to remember this was the woman who practically thought of her as a second daughter and that she was only trying to be a good person.

Still, couldn’t she take it down a notch and be less annoying?

“Guys, you have to leave in a few minutes,” Ginny said, appearing at the doorway. Mrs. Weasley made an aggravated sound and began rushing around the room, reminding Hermione of Roadrunner sans the annoying honking.

Ten minutes later, they’d managed to make it downstairs, now standing at the front door. Hermione’s goodbye party consisted of Ron, Harry, Ginny, Bill, Fleur, and, of course, Mrs. Weasley. Although technically, Ginny and Mrs. Weasley would be accompanying her to the train station.

Hermione turned to Fleur first, to thank her for her hospitality. However, Fleur embraced her in a sudden hug, stopping any words that were forming in her mouth, waiting to come out. Bill was next, and he awkwardly shook her hand. Hermione smiled up at him, muttering a quick “thank you” before they let go.

As she turned to Ron, he opened his arms wide and Hermione wrapped hers around him. She put her chin on his shoulder, blinking back tears. Somehow, she always felt safe in Ron’s arms. Yet now, she realized, she’d have to go six months without knowing he and Harry were there to protect her.

As she let go of him, she moved towards Harry. He gave her a small shrug, and smiled faintly before pulling her into a similar hug. Hermione smiled into her shirt, cherishing these last few moments with her dearest friends.

And then, they were out the door. They had to hurry because Hermione had to be at King’s Cross at 12:30 in time for the train ride. This time, they’d be traveling via normal train, meaning her wand had to be safely stored in her carry-on luggage, and she wasn’t allowed to make any references to the wizarding world while Muggles were within hearing range.

Fortunately, she would be traveling with two other people: one instructor, and one other future inductee into the Magical Institute. Hermione was glad that she’d at least be able to take her wand out for part of the ride – she didn’t feel safe without it – and that she’d have somebody, albeit a total stranger, to socialize with.

They Disapparated right outside the cottage, reaching a small alley by the train station. Hermione, Ginny, and Mrs. Weasley weaved their way through hordes of busy people to find their final destination – Platform 9. Hermione smiled faintly as she remembered the numerous times she’d been here, walking through the barrier between platforms nine and ten. She had a sudden wish, a sudden urge to break into a run and go through the wall again, seeing the wonderful train with tons of students milling about it, but she knew it was impossible for her to do.

Hermione turned to Mrs. Weasley and Ginny, smiling at them as she realized she was now finally going, going for good.

Hermione hugged her best girl friend first, realizing how close she was to crying once again. Then, once they broke apart, she turned to Mrs. Weasley. Mrs. Weasley embraced her like a daughter, something Hermione hadn’t felt like in a long time. As they hugged, Mrs. Weasley sneaked a small package into Hermione’s hands.

And eventually, it was time to go. Hermione climbed onto the train, standing by the window as she watched them. They waved and waved, so long Hermione was amazed their hands didn’t hurt, and Hermione waved back until the train slowly began moving away from the station.

Once Mrs. Weasley and Ginny disappeared from view, Hermione focused on her next task – finding the correct compartment. Grasping her bag tightly, she slowly walked up the aisle, checking each compartment to see if it was the right one.

Eventually, she reached it – 3A. Hermione slowly walked in, expecting to see a sight as normal as any. But she received the shock of her lifetime.

In the seat to her left, clearly visible from the outside, was the instructor; presumably asleep. He was an old man, graying, in his mid-50’s. However, as she turned around to put her carry-on in the compartment, Hermione gasped.

Sitting there, sprawled lazily across the seat was the egotisical, pale, blond, all-too familiar face of Draco Malfoy.

Okay, so I got this idea a long time ago. I wrote out this chapter as well. However, sadly, the file got destroyed and became one of those dumb ones where all ou see is the weird squares, and I tried fixing it like twenty times but didn't suceed. Therefore, I decided I'd just have to write it again, and I apologize if this version is a bit crappier than it would have been.

It's a Dramione. Yeah.

Hope you enjoyed the chapter. Please, if you've got time, review and tell me what you think of it. Thanks.