            Hermione swallowed, fidgeting with a frizzy curl that refused to stay behind her ear. "I...I remember noticing your hair when we first met, at the bookshop before second year." When you were busy insulting me for being a muggleborn. Now that she thought about it, her teenage self had always taken note of the wizard’s appearance, fascinated by the aristocratic way he carried himself, or the way his words seemed to float our from that rich, upper-class accent.