Harry Potter 1. Chapter 1

Hermione Granger was on a mission. Granted, it wasn't exactly a very _important_ one. It wouldn't defeat a dark lord or save the wizarding world (yet again)... in fact, it was nothing but a Library Orientation. But she was taking it quite seriously all the same.

Hermione had never quite been sure of the point of Library Orientations. Sure, maybe the first years needed a little help in learning their way around - there were certainly people at Hogwarts whom she could believe had never used a library before they came here - but it seemed like a terrible waste of time to repeat it every year after that. It was as if, for some strange reason, Madam Pince had convinced herself that over the summer everybody completely forgot how to find a book.

How anybody could forget something so basic and so useful was utterly beyond Hermione, but here they were doing Library Orientation anyway. It wasn't a complicated operation; there was a short lecture from Madam Pince on the mysteries of the card catalog (which, having been exposed to quite a lot of magic over the last thousand years or so, did tend to do things like re-alphabetize itself backwards and squirt coconut frosting in your face when you opened a drawer), and then each student would be given the name of a spell and told to go find the book that contained it. It was a laughably easy task - Hermione would have finished it in the first five minutes... if it weren't for Harry and Ron.

"What have you got, Harry?" asked Ron, peeking over his friend's shoulder.

Harry frowned at the slip of parchment Madam Pince had given him. "_Calandrelli's Cushioning Charm_," he said. "I know that one - that's the one we still use on the Quidditch brooms. How about you?"

"_A Spell for the Disintegration of Kidney Stones_." Ron made a face. "That's the one I got _last _year."

"It'll be easy to find, then, won't it?" asked Harry. "Let's do yours first."

Ron stared at him. "What, you think I actually _remember _where it was? Yours first - you must use it all the time."

"Well, yeah," said Harry, "but I've never actually seen it in a book, you know. Oliver Wood taught it to me in first year and I just remembered it since then."

The boys looked at each other, and then both turned their eyes towards Hermione. She bristled - only back at school one day, and here they went again! Deep down inside, she'd been rather hoping that one or other of them might actually realize this year that she was, in fact, a _girl_, but it looked instead like she was doomed to another year of being their walking, talking, all-purpose textbook.

"Hermione?" said Harry.

"Yes?" she asked.

"Any idea where we can find these?"

The answer was yes, and he knew it... Hermione knew exactly which books the spells could be found in. In fact, in the case of Harry's coushining charm, it was in no less than five books, including the deathly boring _Quidditch Through the Ages_, which both boys actually _owned_. Harry and Ron expected her to just spout off shelf numbers like a computer, and then they'd go off and grab the books and not even give her a thank-you. Well, she'd had it... she knew, but she was damned if she was going to tell them when they'd just take her for granted like that.

"Sorry," she said. "I'm afraid you're just going to have to look them up in the card catalog."

The boys' eyes widened. "The card catalog?" Ron echoed, as if he didn't know what it was.

"Yes," Hermione replied sarcastically. "You know, that big wooden box with all the drawers in it? The one Madam Pince just spent ten minutes telling us about? The one you're _supposed _to use to find things in the library?"

Harry and Ron clearly found this a rather distasteful idea. "Last time I tried to use the card catalog, every time I opened a drawer it spat a goldfish at me," said Harry.

"Big goldfish," Ron nodded. "The kind you get if you put them in a pond outdoors and don't feed them for three years."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Really," she said, "you two are so helpless, it's pathetic! Someday I won't be here, and _then _how are you going to find anything? Go and find them on your own."

"Oh, come _on, _Hermione," said Ron. "Be a pal!"

"I am!" she snapped. "I'm your friend - not your reference book! Find your own spells." And she turned around and stomped off into the shelves, fuming.

How in the world had she ever managed to make friends with such a pair of insufferable asses? She'd dropped hints to both of them for the last three years - I'm female! Notice me! - but still she remained Hermione Granger, walking study aid and One Of The Guys. If they weren't so darned clueless...

She shook her head and wished, for the umpteenth time, that she were pretty.

Hermione had always been vocally of the opinion that it wasn't necessary to be pretty. One could lead a perfectly good life and acieve great things, and still be as ugly as sin. If it had been a choice between being pretty and being smart, she'd have chosen smart every time. But while perhaps it wasn't strictly _important _to be pretty, the more Hermione grew up, the more she thought it would probably have been _nice_.

Yes - it would have been _very _nice to get a little attention for once. To have Ron and Harry remember that they were, after all, in the presence of a lady, and to treat her like one instead of like a spare brain. It would have been nice to have a _date _for Hogsmeade weekends, instead of 'hanging out' and drinking butterbeer with two boys who didn't realize that she was almost seventeen and still hadn't had her first kiss.

But it wasn't going to happen. Hermione, as every mirror she saw was constantly reminding her, was short, bushy-haired, buck-toothed, and brown. She had about as much chance of getting a date as she did of being the first woman on the moon.

And because she was also a disgustingly nice person, she was going to apologize to Ron and Harry later for that, and probably help them with their homework. Knowing that made her squirm - but it didn't change the fact that she was going to end up doing it. Then she'd go back to being their best buddy, and nothing would have changed.

Somewhere on the other side of a shelf, Parvati Patil shrieked as a book tried to bite her.

Hermione sighed and looked at the slip of parchment she'd been given - her assignement for the orientation was to find _A Spell to make Hidden Things Visible_. She blinked and looked again, just to make her she hadn't imagined it - yes, there it was, and it was almost enough to bring Hermione out of the funk she'd sunken herself into. She'd seen taht spell before; she'd looked it up for extra credit in Charms class, two years ago! It was on page eighty-four of the _Book of Coriakin_, which was a blue leather volume about five inches thick, stored in section B, shelf 2, nine volumes from the end. What's more, it was a book she'd always been meaning to look up again; when she'd used it before, OWLs had been coming up, and there'd been no time to go through the many other fascinating spells it contained. This time, she'd have to check it out and see what else was in it.

Feeling considerably brighter, she hurried off to Section B of the library, which could only be found if you went up aisle four of Section A and walked backwards around the corner. This she did, and there was the book, right where it was supposed to be. Hermione pulled it off the shelf, flipped past the loan card in the front (though not before noting that the last person to check this book out had been herself, two years earlier), and found the spell easily. There was library orientation over and done with!

Now she ought to go check the book out and then take pity on Harry and Ron. She stood up, brushed dust off her robes, and took a step towards the signout desk... then stopped and reconsidered. She knew she was going to apologize to the boys eventually, but she was still just angry enough to decide that 'eventually' didn't have to be right now. Since she'd finished early, she now had the rest of the class period - nearly forty-five minutes - in which she could go back to the Gryffindor Common Room and read this book. Maybe that would teach her so-called 'friends' to at least say 'thank you' when she did things for them.

Madam Pince awarded Hermione ten house points for being the first to finish - just as she had the last six years - then allowed her to check out the book. Hermione very pointedly refused to look at Ron and Harry as she stalked out of the library and began climbing the stairs to Gryffindor Tower.

In the common room, she picked a nice, comfy red velvet armchair in front of the fireplace, sat down, and opened the book in her lap. Her mind, however, was still on Harry and Ron, and she found it difficult to concentrate on the spells she was reading. Stupid boys! One of these days, she was going to show them. One day, she'd be married to a rich movie star or something and then they'd be sorry they hadn't appreciated her...

Yeah, and she'd grow wings and fly while she was at it. She heaved another sigh and turned the page...

And there it was.

Hermione almost stopped breathing. There it was, on page forty-five; _A Spell to make Beautiful her that Uttereth it Beyond the lot of Mortals_. The page was decorated with a series of pictures: a rather plain young girl holding a book, the same girl - who had frizzy brown hair and large teeth - reciting a spell in front of a mirror, and then in the final panel, the same girl (and it was, recognizably, the same girl, despite her subtly altered features) had become the most beautiful woman on earth, and half a dozen men were gathered around, showering her with gifts and flowers.

Hermione's heart pounded in her ears as she read over the Latin words of the spell. All she had to do, the book claimed, was hold her wand in her left hand and recite the spell from memory in front of a mirror with her eyes closed. And beneath the title was a line of fine print: _WARNING: this spell should only be attempted by an extremely powerful witch and should never under any circumstances be spoken by a wizard. As the spell is difficult to reverse, the caster should be sure she is prepared to live with the consequences._

Consequences? What the heck was it talking about? No side effects were listed - the 'consequences' of the spell was to make the caster the most beautiful woman in the world! Anybody who couldn't live with _that _had very high standards indeed.

She read over the spell one more time to make sure she knew it - fortunately, Hermione's Latin was pretty fluent, and she could memorize spells based on their meanings instead of learning the phrases phoenetically - then grabbed her wand and ran for the girls' bathroom.


	2. Chapter 2

In the bathroom, Hermione stopped in front of the mirror, took off her robe, loosened her tie, and - feeling a little sick from half-terrified excitement, took one last look at her old reflection. There she was, in all her bushy-haired, brown-eyed, flush-cheeked, flat-chested inglory. Well, to hell with that. She shut her eyes, held her wand as directed, and recited the spell. 

For a moment, she felt nothing, and then a strange, warm tingle passed over her body. It started in the roots of her hair, then slowly worked its way down over her face, her chest and arms, her hips and legs, all the way to her feet, leaving an odd feeling, as if her skin was too tight, that took a moment to disperse. Hermione took a couple of deep breaths, then opened her eyes and looked in the mirror.

She looked exactly the same as she had a moment ago.

Hermione frowned, puzzled. Maybe she hadn't done it right? She went back into the common room and picked up the book again to look...no, the words were right, and there didn't appear to be any instructions beyond the ones she'd paid attention to. There was just that warning: _this spell should only be attempted by an extremely powerful witch and should never under any circumstances be spoken by a wizard. As the spell is difficult to reverse, the caster should be sure she is prepared to live with the consequences._ Perhaps she just wasn't powerful enough... or maybe she was somehow 'unprepared', as it said...

Or maybe spells like that just weren't meant for people like Hermione. She sighed and shut the book... she should have known it was too good to be true. Things like that happened to the _glamorous _people of the world... the Perditas and Paulinas, the models and movie stars and princesses. It didn't happen to dentists' daughters named Hermione. She dumped the book on her bed, put her robe back on, and went back downstairs. She might as well get _something _out of all this by being early for History of Magic.

It was during History of Magic that Hermione ended up apologizing to Ron and Harry. She knew that if she had to look at them again, she wouldn't be able to hold out long... and sure enough; they walked into the classroom with kicked puppy expressions on their faces, and any lingering resolve not to forgive them melted like strawberry ice cream. They kept their eyes on their toes as they shuffled over and sat down on either side of her.

"Uh... Hermione?" asked Ron. "Did we do something wrong?"

The answer was 'yes', but Hermione couldn't bring herself to say so. "No," she lied. "I'm sorry. I'm just a little... a little stressed, I guess. You know, this being NEWT year and all." She managed to make herself smile at them.

"NEWTs?" Ron said. "Geeze, Hermione, NEWTs aren't until June. We've only been back one day!" He sounded relieved, though. Nerdy little Hermione, doing what nerdy little Hermione always did. His unquestioning and uninterested acceptance made her feel more like dirt than all the insults in the world.

Thirty seconds later (Ron and Harry had never gotten out of their disgusting habit of arriving only seconds before class began), Professor Binns floated in through the blackboard and the lesson began. Hermione participated like she usually did, putting up her hand when he asked questions and answering when he called on her, but she did so while feeling oddly detached and robotic. She wasn't really here, wasn't really participating... she was just doing what everybody expected her to do. Going through the motions of being Hermione Granger.

"Who was the last ruler of England to keep a court wizard?" Professor Binns asked the class. "Yes, Hermione?"

"Elizabeth the First," she replied, hearing her own voice sounding like it was coming from far away. "Her successor, James the First, believed that witches and wizards were agents of the devil and banished them from court."

"Very good," said Professor Binns. "Five points to Gryffindor! I'll make it ten if you can tell me which two wizard families lost political prominence because of this."

"The Spencers and the Blacks," replied Hermione.

"Excellent!" Professor Binns nodded.

Hermione sat back in her seat, somehow not feeling at all pleased with herself, and noticed as she did that Harry and Ron were using a note-passing charm; words in Ron's roudish hand were appearing in Harry's notebook:

_'Female troubles'_, they said. _Give her a couple of days._

She looked away quickly. Well... at least they knew that she was a girl.

The rest of the day wasn't any better. It wasn't really any _worse_... but while nothing happened to bring Hermione any further down, nothing happened to bring her back up again, either. Ron and Harry, of course, took her quite literally when she told them she was fine, but not everybody was as blind as they were.

"Are you okay, Hermione?" Lavender Brown asked as the girls got ready for bed.

"I'm fine," said Hermione.

Lavender looked at her suspiciously. "No, you're not," she said. "You've been sulking all day long. You barely ate anything at dinner and you've hardly spoken to Harry and Ron. What's wrong? Maybe we can help."

"No," Hermione shook her head. "You can't. But thanks." She gave Lavender a watery smile. "I think I'm going to go to bed early tonight," she added.

"All right," said Lavender. "But if there's anything we can do, let us know, okay?"

"Okay," Hermione promised.

The next morning, Hermione's alarm clock went off promptly at six thirty, like it always did. Technically, the students didn't have to be up until seven - that left them plenty of time to get washed up and dressed before breakfast at eight, and then classes began at eight thirty. Hermione, however, liked to be up early - it gave her time to get her notes in order, and also meant she got the bathroom all to herself, without fifty other Gryffindor girls of various ages slipping on the soap and crowding around the mirror to put their makeup on.

The peace and quiet also gave her time to think, and today of all days she sorely needed to. The miserable feelings that had dogged her all yesterday had passed... or at least, abated somewhat. No, she wasn't pretty, and yes, her friends only realized she was female when she had PMS, but weren't there more important things for her to think about? She was in school - she was here to learn, to become the important research witch she'd dreamed of being ever since she'd gotten her Hogwarts letter seven years ago. Things like boys and relationships could wait until she was grown up and graduated, and had time for such things. Right now, she should just study hard and try not to get too annoyed with Ron and Harry for being Ron and Harry. No silly beauty spell was going to solve all her problems for her.

With that settled to her satisfaction, she stepped into the bathroom and began unbuttoning her pajamas. The candles, which were charmed to light themselves whenever anybody entered, sputtered to life - Hermione glanced up at them, then returned her attention to her buttons.

A moment later, she stopped short and looked up again. The candles were in a bracket just above the mirror, and when she'd looked at them, she'd momentarily caught sight of her reflection. Now she stood perfectly still for a moment, unable to do anything but gape like a fish at the sight of herself. Then she screamed.

Actually, she sort of half-screamed... she got halfway through the panicked cry when some still coldly dispassionate part of herself reminded her that it was _six thirty AM_, and she quickly clapped both hands over her mouth. She stood there frozen and silent for a few seconds, terrified that all of Hogwarts was about to come running to see who was being murdered, but the moments dragged by, punctuated only by the kettledrum pounding of her heart, and nobody showed up. Once she was absolutely certain that nobody was coming, and once her shocked brain had thawed enough to allow her to move, she locked the door with shaking hands and then turned to take another look at her reflection.

It was difficult to put a finger on what was different. The only obvious change was in her hair; it was still brown and curly, but it was a darker, richer brown than the mousy shade she'd sported before, and there was gleaming gold in the highlights. Instead of being uncontrollable friz, the strands had smoothed out into sleek, silky curls. She twined a lock around one finger and pulled on it; when she let go, it sprang back into place, shining in the candlelight as it bounced. Nobody's hair should have looked that good when they'd just gotten out of bed, but Hermione had a hard time imagining how hers could have possibly looked better.

Her eyes had changed, too. Like her hair, they were darker than the neutral grayish shade she remembered, and had bits of gold in them that hadn't been there before. Were they also a bit bigger than she remembered, or was that her imagination? She couldn't decide, but certainly her lashes were thicker and darker, and her eyebrows had taken on a more elegant arch.

Her skin might've been a bit fairer, and all the remnants of old freckles and scars from where she'd picked at pimples had melted away. Her teeth were whiter, and her lips fuller and pinker. But beyond that, nothing much actually seemed different about the shape of her face and features. Whatever had changed, it didn't seem to be something she could put a name to. Everything was just a little more symmetrical, a little more smooth - as if her face had been the rough sketch for a piece of art that had now been completed.

It wasn't just her face, either. The same thing had happened to her hands and her figure. But despite the differences, it was still very definitely _her_; nobody could have mistaken the girl in the mirror for anybody except Hermione.

"That's me," Hermione said out loud to the mirror, trying to convince herself. Her voice had changed too, in the same indescribable fasion; it was _her _voice, but somehow without there being any quantifiable difference, it was infinitely prettier. "That's me," she said again. "Hermione Granger."

And then she laughed - she wasn't dreaming. She, Hermione Jane Cecily Granger, was beautiful.


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione usually rushed in the shower - hurrying left her with more time to get organized - but that day she let herself relax and just stood there, enjoying the feel of the hot water as it ran down her back. Eventually, that began to get dull... but it took a lot longer than she might have expected. She washed up and stepped out, and allowed herself to take her time drying off, too, standing in front of the mirror so as to keep reminding herself that her new looks weren't a wonderful dream. 

They weren't... in fact, even when soaking wet, her hair looked amazing. She cast a drying charm on it and then tried several different ways of putting it up; all were lovely, but in the end, she decided to simply let the curls hang around her face.

It was still difficult to believe that the beautiful girl in the mirror was Hermione Granger. She found herself worrying that her newfound beauty was just some kind of illusion that only existed in the mirror, while to everybody else she looked the same as she always had. How could she find out? It wasn't as if she could just go up and ask somebody, 'excuse me, am I gorgeous?'

She got her answer, however, when the first of the other girls came in to use the showers. Dusky Parvati Patil was at the front of the line, and nodded sleepily at Hermione as she walked by.

"Morning, Herm..." she said, and then did a double-take the likes of which Hermione had never before seen outside of a cartoon. "_Hermione_?" she asked.

"Morning, Parvati," Hermione replied, carefully casual but unable to repress a grin. Behind Parvati, Lavender Brown had also come to a dead stop and was staring with her mouth open. Hermione's heart soared - Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown were two of the most beautiful girls at Hogwarts. If _they _were impressed...

"Wow," said Parvati. "Hermione, you look fabulous!" She frowned momentarily as she studied Hermione, trying to figure out what had changed. Evidently she couldn't put her finger on what it was, though, because apparently the best she could think of was, "new conditioning potion?"

Hermione twined a curl around one finger. "Is it that obvious?" she asked.

"Well, yeah," said Lavender. "It looks amazing! You'll have to hook us up with some of that!"

"Sorry," said Hermione, "it's a secret recipe."

"Oh, I see." Parvati smiled. "Well, in that case, can I ask just one question?"

"What's that?"

"Who's the guy?"

"The guy?" Hermione echoed. "What makes you think there's a guy?"

"Um, _you_, dolled up like that?" Lavender grinned. "Come_ on_, Hermione, the last time you took any trouble with your hair was when you wanted to look nice for Viktor Krum at the Yule Ball, and that was in fourth year! So who is it this time?"

Hermione smiled wistfully. "I don't know yet..." she said. "But hopefully I'll find out."

"Ahhh," said Parvati, nodding. "Well, keep looking like that, and it'll be every boy at Hogwarts! Just don't go stealing Seamus Finnegan from me, and it'll all be fine."

"Deal," Hermione promised.

Hermione was on top of the world as she got dressed. The sudden burst of confidence was almost unreal... what _was _it that was so empowering about knowing you looked good? Hermione had always known she was smart, always known she was talented, and just that morning she'd decided it really didn't matter if she was pretty or not... and yet none of that had made her feel as ready for anything as she felt now.

Before leaving the girls' dormitory, she paused one more time to admire her reflection in the standing mirror. The Hogwarts school uniform was near-legendary for its ability to make any girl look frumpy, but apparently the spell had left her ready even for that, because she _still _looked terrific. The very proper and modest uniform, combined with her new looks, made her look at once fresh and innocent and a little naughty - like a Catholic schoolgirl who had decided to find out what it was the nuns were always warning her about. She blew her reflection a kiss and then sauntered down the stairs to the common room.

The boys in Gryffindor tended to get up later for the girls, but made up for it by not spending as long getting ready - boys, after all, didn't need to worry about things like their hair and makeup. So Harry, Ron, Dean, Seamus, and Neville were already in the common room, discussing their divination homework over a quick game of wizard memory - which was much like the normal kind, except that the cards crawled around on the carpet and you had to be quick to catch the one you wanted before it wandered off.

Hermione pretended to pay no attention to them as she descended the stairs, but it was hard to keep a smile off her face. She managed it until three steps from the bottom, which was when Dean Thomas looked up at her, and his mouth fell open into a round O of shock. "Holy cow!" he exclaimed. "Hermione, you look great!"

She couldn't keep from grinning like a fool any longer. "Thanks," she replied.

Dean's exclamation made the other boys look up, and they all reacted similarly. Seamus just stared, Ron turned as white as a sheet and opened and closed his mouth like a fish, and Neville's ears turned brilliant red, followed closely by the rest of his face. Harry's eyes grew nearly as round as his glasses. "Hermione?" he asked. "What happened to _you_?"

"New conditioning potion," she replied casually, tossing her silky locks - being able to think of them as 'silky locks' made it even more difficult not to smile - over her shoulder. "How's it look?"

Harry swallowed. "Good," he managed.

"Yeah," said Ron weakly. "Really good."

"Thanks," Hermione said again, and then pretended to think about something before adding, "it's an awful lot of work to brew, though. I don't know if I really want to go to the trouble... do you think it was worth it?"

"Oh, yes," Dean nodded eagerly.

"Absolutely," said Seamus.

"It looks good," said Harry.

"_Really_ good," agreed Ron.

Neville muttered something nobody could hear, got up, and ran up to the boys' dormitory in a hurry.

There were also boys from the other year in the room, and most of them then took their own turn to compliment Hermione on her knew look. She thanked them as modestly as possible, basking in the attention. So this was what she'd been missing! This was what life was like for Parvati and Lavender, and for Pansy Parkinson in Slytherin, Sarah Woodville and Asuka Ito in Hufflepuff and Hecate Langston in Ravenclaw - the girls who were beautiful and knew it. Hermione had always told herself she didn't envy them. Who had she thought she was kidding? Not herself, certainly.

"Well, I'd better get downstairs," said Hermione cheerfully. "I want to look over my notes before we eat. See you at breakfast, Ron, Harry!" She walked past the astounded boys and swung the portrait hole open.

"Morning, Hermione," the fat lady said. "Don't you look nice today."

"Thank you," Hermione replied.

As the door creaked shut, she heard one of the boys say, "conditioning potion, my butt. That was some kind of makeover spell. My sister uses them, only she screws them up and turns her hair green half the time."

Several of the boys sniggered. Poor girl, Hermione thought.

The ever-changing hallways and staircases of Hogwarts meant that it could sometimes take half an hour to do something as simple as get from the dormitory down to the great hall, but today everything was right where Hermione expected it to be. Everything was going her way today! Hermione felt so up she actually began whistling... and then she walked around a corner and found herself face-to-face with Professor McGonagall.

The transfiguration teacher's eyes opened wide, then narrowed again as she looked at Hermione closely. "Good morning, Miss Granger," she said.

"Good morning." Hermione ducked her head, suddenly ashamed. It was one thing to watch friends who bloody well deserved it react to this... but a teacher was quite another matter.

"_The Book of Coriakin_?" asked Professor McGonagall.

Hermione looked up sharply. "Er - yes," she said, surprised. But then, McGonagall was an expert on transfiguration. If any of the Hogwarts teachers were likely to be familiar with that spell, McGonagall was at the top of the list. Hermione began to feel a bit frightened; the thought hadn't occured to her until now, but what if the contents of _The Book of Coriakin_ were on the list of charms and hexes Hogwarts students weren't allowed to use without supervision? She could end up in detention, or even get expelled...

But Professor McGonagall didn't look about to expel anybody. She only sighed and shook her head. "I thought as much."

"Um," said Hermione. The professor was obviously waiting for her to say _something_, but she couldn't think of anything appropriate. "It... worked quite well, don't you think?" she tried.

McGonagall nodded. "Yes, it's a highly effective spell - most of the Coriakin ones are noted for that... and for being extremely difficult to undo. Just let me know when you get tired of it," she added in a resigned tone, and walked past Hermione to the staircase.

Hermione watched her go, puzzled. First 'be ready for the consequences', and now 'let me know when you get tired of it'. Goodness, you'd have thought this was a spell had a poisonous bite the way everybody kept telling her to handle with care. What kind of person just 'got tired' of being gorgeous?

She continued on to the great hall. Not many people were there yet and the food hadn't appeared, but the silver and gold dishes were already set out on the tables just waiting to be filled. Hermione sat down and pulled her textbooks out of her bag, then glanced in a plate at her reflection. What she saw once again made her smile. Looking like this was going to take some getting used to, but she thought she could handle it.

She was going to have to buy some new clothes. Nobody so pretty ought to spend their weekends bumming around in hoodies and pajama pants.

Then the corner of Hermione's eye caught a flicker of movement - somebody was looking over her shoulder... somebody with a pale, high-cheekboned face set with intense silver-blue eyes. She looked up sharply, right into the smirking face of Draco Malfoy.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" she demanded.

He just grinned. "Well, well, well," he drawled. "What_do_ we have here?"


End file.

Harry Potter, Drama, Romance