Disclaimer: These characters and scenarios belong to JK Rowling.

Chapter 1: Desperate

Sitting in their favourite squishy armchairs in front of the fire in the Gryffindor common room, the three best friends sat down like they did every Saturday afternoon. While Ron and Harry were playing a game of Wizard's Chess, Hermione was cuddled in her armchair, her nose in a book. Today, however, she wasn't as engrossed in her reading material as she usually was. She was listening to the boys' conversation.

"Harry, you should have seen her – bloody fucking brilliant!"

"Ron, I promise you, she is nothing compared to Tracey…"

What the devil are they talking about?

"Lavender takes me all the way. She even swallows," Ron declared.

Did she hear correctly? Were Harry and Ron talking about... sex? Were they crazy? Merlin's balls! There were first years around! Just as Hermione was about to open her mouth, Lavender decided to join the party at the fire. She bit her tongue, knowing the subject would never be broached with Lavender around.

"Won Won!" Lavender exclaimed, falling into his lap. She entwined her fingers in his hair, smiling at him playfully. She started to nibble his ear, all the while whispering softly spoken innuendos.

"Well, I'm off – I really should practice if I expect to beat Slytherin in the next Quidditch match! See you guys later! And, Hermione, don't read too long. I don't think you will want to go ask Madam Pomfrey for a headache potion again," Harry said with a smile as he got up to leave.

Ron did not seem to hear this interaction, as he was otherwise occupied. It wasn't long after Harry left that he and Lavender disappeared as well, probably to go sneak into a forgotten classroom or find a hidden corner. Harry, no doubt, had made his way to the Astronomy Tower, getting many more than a few chaste kisses.

Reflecting on the boys' love lives, Hermione realized that she really was glad that they were happy. After defeating Voldemort the previous year, they finally had the chance of having normal teenage lives. Well, as normal as they could be, based on her definition of normalcy. Nothing seemed normal to Hermione these days.

After leaving the Gryffindor common room, Hermione whispered, "Pride and Prejudice," to the portrait of a clown, which was just a few feet away from the Fat Lady. The clown, smiling while juggling multi-coloured balls, swung open to admit her. She entered the familiar, beautiful room. The walls were a light shade of blue, with white stained furniture against them.

She loved her canopy bed with its light blue, gossamer lace curtains. To one side was a bookcase filled with books, including all her favourite Jane Austen novels. Her bay window, which contained lots of silk cushions in shades of white and blue, looked down on the lake. This was a perfect spot for reading. She sometimes imagined that the castle had made it especially for her. She had her own bathroom, tiled to match her bedroom. The bath was not as big as the one in the Prefects' bathroom, but this one had a scented tap that changed the scent to suit her mood. She also loved the shower, which had the same scented water.

Hermione took her book and attempted to read in her bay window. She stared at the pages, reading and re-reading the same paragraph. The romance novel was making her think about her own love life. Hermione sighed. Her love life currently had no promising future prospects. It only promised to be dull and boring and nothing compared to the novel she was reading. This left her feeling lonely.

Everybody around her was in love. Everybody had that special someone. Harry had Tracey. Ron had Lavender. Ginny had Seamus. Even Albus had Minerva…

Hermione got up and stood before the mirror. Whenever she took the time to look into this particular mirror, it tried to give her tips on how to enhance her 'natural beauties.' She did her best to silence said mirror; she did not like receiving compliments she knew she did not deserve.

She stared at the girl looking back at her. She started by looking at the girl's legs. They looked like normal legs. She saw nothing special. There was nothing spectacular about them. When she turned sideways, her mirror image followed suit – her tummy wasn't flat; it made a small bump, but she wasn't really overweight. She turned, facing the mirror again. Her breasts looked like normal breasts. Her face was plain. She had brown eyes and untameable, brown, curly hair. She didn't wear makeup. It took far too much time to apply in the morning and to take off at night. She needed to study hard; only the best witches were even considered for Potion mistress apprenticeships. And studying to get O's in all her subjects took a lot of time. No, Hermione Jean Granger was just a plain witch. She liked being plain.

Whom am I kidding? she thought, walking to the bed. Surely, somewhere, there must be a wizard for her... Her eyes fell on the Witch Weekly lying hidden underneath a mountain of schoolbooks. She opened it, deciding that maybe there would be a few tips that she might use in order to make herself more attractive. Lavender set great store by this book. She carried it with her as if her life depended on it. Lavender was considered one of the prettiest witches in her year... Perhaps, all of the information she had read was starting to pay off. Suddenly, Hermione felt she should have started earlier. Between studying and fighting Voldemort, however, there was never enough time to think about such things.

Well, there's no time like the present.

She was busy flipping the pages, nothing striking her as being of particular help in her situation. Then, at the bottom of the page, some tiny advert in purple and green caught her eye…

Lonely?

Looking for your Perfect Partner?

Look no further!

Perfect Partner will find one for you!

The rest of the ad was lost on Hermione. She was sitting, contemplating the merits of using such a service. What were the chances of someone else actually finding someone you like…? She quickly grabbed a piece of parchment and started working on an Arithmancy calculation to prove that it would be impossible. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door, and she shoved the papers in her Potions book to hide it.

At the door was Ginny, looking like a wilted Flitterbloom. Not even waiting for Hermione to open the door properly, she rushed in and started explaining this – according to her – very serious problem.

"Hermione, I need your help!" she exclaimed. Rushing in and plopping down on the bed, she started her story without even waiting for Hermione.

"Seamus and I have been dating for a while now – as you know. He is a great wizard. The problem is that he started talking about taking our relationship to the next level. But, Hermione, he thinks I am still a virgin…" She took a breath and carried on. "That would technically not be a problem, but Harry and I already kind of did it." Ginny blushed. "It was very..."

Hermione clasped her hands over her ears.

"STOP, Ginny!" Hermione just managed to keep her voice level. "I do not need to know what happened between you and Harry!"

"Hermione..." Ginny began, "it's just sex, don't worry about it. I mean, everybody does it. Besides, Harry is not the issue here. Seamus is. I want our first time to be special, but I can't seem to think of anything romantic to do."

"Why don't you plan a strip poker themed picnic in the Prefects' bathroom?" Hermione asked sarcastically.

"Brilliant!" Ginny exclaimed. "No wonder you are the smartest witch of your year! Now, why didn't I think of that? Hermione, you should write a book on dating and stuff! You know so much! You know, I've always wondered who the lucky people were that shagged you. You must be very talented! How can you keep it a secret?"

"Ginny, there are no lucky people, I assure you," Hermione told her friend. If Ginny weren't so preoccupied with her own schemes, she would have noticed the sad look in her friend's eyes.

"Sure, Hermione… You know you can tell me. But being the friend that I am, I respect your wishes about keeping your lovers to yourself…" With that, Ginny got up and left the room, mumbling something of getting to Madam Malkin's for new underwear.

Hermione flopped down on the bed, staring at her canopy. She wondered how wonderful it must be to be able to plan a romantic date with one's boyfriend... Hermione's thoughts drifted, and she fantasized about nice surprises and butterflies in her stomach. Hermione was quickly lost in fantasy and soon fell asleep.

A/N: Flitterbloom: This plant apparently superficially resembles Devil's Snare in appearance, but is non-violent; St. Mungo's healer Miriam Strout mistook the Devil's Snare that killed Broderick Bode for a Flitterbloom (OP22, OP25).

Also a huge thanks to MissyAllyG for her moral support and cheerleading – a heartfelt thank you.

To PotionsMistress23 - Thank you so much for all your help in this story – you really are brilliant.

Disclaimer: These characters and scenarios belong to JK Rowling.