the_debt_of_time

"Being Muggle-born is nothing to be ashamed of, Miss Granger. I can see quite a
bright future for you." When Hermione beamed up at her, Professor McGonagall cleared
her throat. "Now, we'll meet at the Magical Menagerie in ten minutes or so, yes?"
"Thank you, Professor." Hermione smiled and turned toward the bookshop just as
Professor McGonagall stepped away.
A slender, beautiful blonde moved quickly past Hermione on the right, her feet
gracefully carrying her as she sped away from the bookstore. Her bright blue eyes looked
back once, her mouth set in a tight line of impatience. "Draco, hurry. Your father has a
meeting later, and I've promised him that we'd be done by then!"
"What about my robes?" a boy behind Hermione asked.
"Fine, run off to Madam Malkin's and have her charge the account. Your father's
inside getting your books, and I'll meet you at Ollivanders," the boy's mother called back
to her son.
Hermione turned around to follow the woman's gaze, but as she moved, she
collided with something and lost her balance. "Ow!" shouted the voice of a young male.
Hermione looked up into a pale, pointed face with silver-grey eyes narrowed menacingly
at her.
"Oh, I'm so sorry," she mumbled, shocked by the way the boy sneered at her.
"Watch where you're going!" the blond snapped and shoved her out of his way.
Hermione tripped forward. She tried to recover her balance, but fell to the
cobblestone road, her knees and palms scratching against the rough surface of the street.
She watched the blond boy storm away toward Madam Malkin's. "Rude." Hermione
sniffled and looked down at her skinned knee, frowning as a few other people in fancy
robes passed her by.
She reached into the bag she'd obtained from the robe shop earlier, using the edge
of one of the black sleeves of a robe to dab the blood away from her cut before shoving
everything back in and standing up. No longer wanting to head back into the bookshop,
Hermione turned around to move toward the Magical Menagerie where she was to meet
Professor McGonagall. Eyes on the ground in dejection, she did her best to navigate the
unfamiliar street while catching bits and pieces of conversations happening around her.
"Listen, Harry, would you mind if I slipped off for a pick-me-up in the Leaky
Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts."