Chapter Text
The fae had taken her when she was young, four, almost five, flipping through a picture book in the shade of the hawthorn tree in her back yard. One moment she was sounding out the names of animals to match the picture to the letters, the next she was looking at a copy of herself over the slim shoulder of a beautiful stranger.
For hours she’d screamed and cried. She was so young and so afraid. But soon enough, she wasn’t just scared, she was also full of determination and curiosity. They chose her for it, after all. Ones like her were so fun.
(They didn’t yet know that Hermione Granger was one of a kind.)
She enjoyed her time with the fae, but then her time with them was ended by a simple letter, the first piece of mail she had ever received in her life.
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The day the train was to leave, her fae guardian put a glamour over themselves and guided her by the hand to the hidden platform. The glamour didn’t come close to keeping attention off of the fae on the platform, especially with a feral child at their side, but it allowed them to make it to the train to see their charge off with little trouble. A gentle kiss was planted on Hermione’s wild hair and then her guardian was gone like the steam billowing around the train.
Oh, and the train! Hermione had never seen anything so magnificent, at least not outside of the fae realm where there everything was otherworldly and beautiful until it was horrifically ugly (the fae were never ones to go half-way on anything). The shining scarlet hue reminded her of the flower garden back in the fae realm, the one bursting with all sorts of flowers, even some that she would come to find only existed there.
She sat herself down in an empty compartment and read through Hogwarts: A History again, wanting to know everything she could about this strange new world she was entering. One had to know the rules as intimately as possible to know every way around them. And Hermione was not one to let herself be trapped.
As the train lurched forward, a toad slipped into her compartment through the crack left in the door. She leaned down and scooped it up to observe the thing’s eyes, the strange, squished pupil and its translucent third eyelid. It croaked and she smiled at it with sharp teeth, setting it on her skirt before resuming her reading. The toad seemed content to keep her company while she read and she enjoyed it up until the toad’s owner appeared, breathlessly thanking Hermione before disappearing with his toad, Trevor. Hermione stared at the now fully closed door, dazed for a moment at how quickly she had earned herself a favor here.
Not too long after that, two more boys showed up at her compartment, with the red-headed one explaining that “Everywhere else is full.”
They introduced themselves as Ron Weasley and Harry Potter and once again, Hermione was struck dumb by the strangeness of this world where people gave names and favors like nothing.
“You can call me Hermione,” she said, holding her hand out to the boy sitting closest to her. Harry took her hand and shook it, looking at her with a soft sort of look in his eyes that starkly contrasted the unease in Ron’s expression. She wouldn’t know for some time why that was, why Harry was fond of her where others were uneasy.
Harry bought more than enough sweets to feed all of the first years, let alone the three of them, and they all dug in. Harry had at least implied that the treats were freely given, and Hermione had to admit that the wizarding sweets looked divine.
She was particularly fond of the sugar quills.
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Nobody at Hogwarts thought to be kind or considerate of Hermione’s upbringing, not really. Sure, Snape had made sure to tell her that the food at Hogwarts was freely given, but beyond that he really was a bastard.
And to think that he was fae raised. He couldn’t even hide his hatred for Harry Potter nor his disdain towards the other students, towards her. And he let Draco Malfoy get away with everything, including calling her a filthy mudblood and all manner of other names.
They were both full of such hate.
But so was she.
And really, she should thank them. After all, Hermione hadn’t realized that people could be so open with their dislike, nor had she anticipated such easy targets for the anger simmering in her belly, buried deep. The fae had raised her to be tricky, hard to pin down, and so she had made it her mission over the years to be hard to read and that meant hiding her emotions out of sight.
It only took a few weeks as the focus of Hermione’s research for Snape and Malfoy to lose their will to pick on the students, least of all Hermione, whose torment was always followed by swift vengeance that couldn’t be pinned on her.
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She had managed to get herself wrapped up in a life debt before winter break. Hermione couldn’t believe it.
It wasn’t even her fault, not really. She blamed Harry entirely for “saving her” when she could handle herself fine, thank you very much.
Still, he had been incredibly brave, coming to warn her about the troll on the loose like he’d done, so she couldn’t stay mad at him for long.
And she couldn’t help liking the boy more and more the more time she spent with him, waiting to repay the life debt she owed.
He was kind in a way that Hermione hadn’t expected, and thoughtful to boot. He let her ramble for hours on end about the things she learned and reigned in Ron’s complaining when she did. And he was quick to invite her along for his and Ron’s adventures when they could (rare as it was with her in Ravenclaw and them in Gryffindor).
More often than not, she walked the castle corridors alone when she couldn’t sleep, knowing that a long walk would help and that she also had a riddle to look forward to upon her return.
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It didn’t take long for Hermione to sniff out the secrets lurking in the castle. She found the mirror, the dog, and the chambers beyond. And she found Quirrel speaking to a voice that was not his own one night as she roamed the halls alone, sleepless and unafraid.
Not even the fear of Voldemort himself was enough to keep Quirrel from fleeing when he saw Hermione’s glowing eyes and sharp teeth. And thus, the Dark Lord was foiled that first year.
And nobody thought to ask Hermione about the stone once it was found missing, so she felt no obligation to tell them when they began their frantic search.
Though, she did share her story with Harry and Ron after swearing them to secrecy. And the trio sent Hedwig off with the stone, to Nicholas Flamel.