Diamonds

3. Feel The Warmth

"Have you chosen a Quidditch team yet?"

"What's Quidditch?"

"Now that's just mean," Draco grimaced at the back of her head. "I know you've read Quidditch Through the Ages, it's on the list."

She sighed, closing another compartment door. No toad. A moment later, it occurred to her that he'd said something she genuinely didn't understand. "List? What are you talking about?"

"The list of what you've read," he shrugged, flippant. "I've always been sent an updated one, every week, sometimes more if it's too long to fit on one page."

She shuddered slightly at the idea that someone was watching her every move. She'd always known, of course, but had never seen the results. It was creepy. "Well, stop it."

"What? No. How else am I supposed to learn anything about you?" Draco sighed a little.

"You think you're learning about me by keeping track of what I read? Honestly, are you always this arrogant, or is it just because I'm here?"

"I'm not changing myself for you. I don't have to."

She shook her head, astounded by his arrogance. "I chose the Chudley Cannons."

She didn't really; she didn't care. But she'd read through the texts with the same amount of attention she paid everyone else, and the orange and black clad team were by far the worst in the league, apparently. So she'd said it to irritate him, shocking him into silence while she turned to the next compartment. It opened with a screech. "Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one."

Two boys looked up from their seats opposite each other. One had jet black hair and glasses, and the other had red hair, freckles and a rat at his side. The latter was the one who spoke: "We've already told him we haven't seen it."

"Oh," she said, her eyes on the wand in his hand as she shifted closer, perching on a vacant seat. She might have had various books about the magical world for years, thanks to the texts the Malfoys supplied- but she'd never seen a spell cast, except the ritual one when she was almost nine. A lot of things seemed to go back to that time, but curiosity distracted her for the moment. Real magic? "Are you doing magic? Let's see it, then."

"Er-all right," said the red-head, obviously uncomfortable as he cleared his throat, then recited his spell. He held his wand with an unsteady hand; it didn't surprise her at all when the 'stupid, fat rat' didn't turn yellow. She couldn't help herself, though, and began her own spiel:

"Are you sure that's a real spell? Well, it's not very good, is it? If you were going to try a spell before starting learning properly, then why wouldn't you pick something easy, something you knew for sure would work? I suppose if you grew up with a magical family you might have the chance to watch other witches and wizards work proper magic, but my family aren't magic at all. I mean, I knew about it, of course I knew," she watched out of the corner of her eye as the other boy jerked in surprise. Perhaps pureblood girls didn't get to choose, not the same way she had been chosen and pulled out of her mundane world? Even if it was for only a few hours, and the time it took to read a few hundred books. "But I've never seen any spells performed, really, that would be incredibly improper, at least according to what I've read. I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"

""I'm Ron Weasley."

"Harry Potter."

"Are you really? I know all about you, of course, everyone does. You're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century. There're about a dozen others you're mentioned in too, of course, but I read them so long ago I'm afraid I can't quite recall them all."