Written for The Golden Snitch; Canopus, Aurora Academy.
Challenge: Career Advice.
Prompt: 7 (Star Spotter) — write about a character being envious of a famous or 'popular' person and how they interact with them.
Lavender Brown had always been jealous of Hermione Granger. Not because she was pretty — hah! No, it was because she had everything Lavender had ever wanted.
Granger's life: a first-class Order of Merlin, nice friends who were always around, a guy who was panting after her and had been for years, and so much fame she barely dared poke a finger out for fear of it getting photographed.
Lavender's life: the wonderful "gift" of lycanthropy, a family who wouldn't speak to her or even acknowledge her existence for the simple reason that she had "allowed" herself to get bitten by Greyback, and no Order of Merlin, first-class or otherwise, because werewolves couldn't be awarded one. And all her friends were either dead or...no, wait, they were all dead.
She had to Glamour herself to even step outside — and not in a good way. The reporters were after her with questions like "how do you feel hearing that Ronald Weasley has been seen at a jewelry store buying a ring?" and "what is being a werewolf like?"
Sometimes, she really wanted to stick her head out of her house and yell, "It doesn't feel so bloody good!"
To both questions.
She worked in the Muggle world so she wouldn't be photographed through the windows by the Daily Prophet reporters.
And today, she was going out. On the same day that Granger went shopping.
Disguised, of course.
Lavender turned sideways and peered closer at her face. Would Granger be able to recognize her? She had turned her face and body thinner, her blue eyes into celery-green, and her hair was now a stick-straight platinum blonde bob. She was wearing a sleeveless, slinky black dress that went to her knees and metallic silver flats, and her face was liberally coated in makeup.
She decided that no one could possibly realize her now. Lavender Brown was curvy, she wore mostly black sweaters to hide the scar on her shoulder, her makeup was always tastefully done, and her hair was a curly golden-blonde mess.
No, she decided.
Granger would most certainly recognize her.
Or so she thought.
"Marie!" Granger cried, embracing her. "Merlin, look at you! You look fantastic!"
Lavender blinked. Marie? She shrugged to herself, and threw an arm around Granger's waist, trying not to be sickened at the fact that she was touching her sworn enemy. "Gosh, 'Mione!" she exclaimed brightly with a fake French accent. "I 'eard about your wedding, but could not get away. Grandmére was, ah, ill for a while."
Granger looked puzzled. "I thought your grandmother died? I mean, your mum was crying non-stop when I visited you last."
Slapping herself for her stupidity at not coming up with a better excuse, Lavender hurried on: "Mais non, it was Papa's maman." That was about the extent of her French lessons, but at least she had figured out that 'Marie' was French. Thank Merlin.
Granger's face cleared. "Oh, of course," she agreed. Then, "How is Healing school? Oh, Marie, I've missed you!"
Lavender realized that they were standing in the middle of Diagon Alley, and people were bustling around busily and glaring at them for blocking the road. "Let us move," she suggested. "I believe we are, er, in the way." Her accent was hard to maintain, as she hadn't practiced it for years.
Looking around, Granger suddenly understood. "Oh! Mar, I have to go to the Apothecary. Want to come?" Without waiting for an answer, she grabbed Lavender's hand and pulled her down the street. She stopped in front of Slug and Jiggers, and motioned with her head. "Come on. Let's go in."
Lavender was amazed at the easy way the brunette touched her and the affectionate tone of voice. She was pretty sure that even Granger, queen of compassion, would balk at her lycanthropy. Then again, she had been close to Lupin...
Why was she even thinking this? They were enemies, and they would never be anything else.
Right?
"Let's go get lunch!" Hermione said, tugging on Lavender's arm. Wait...when had she started calling Granger by her first name?
"Uh, okay," agreed Lavender warily.
"I know the perfect spot!" she burbled — literally. Lavender never remembered Hermione acting like this during the six years they had lived in the same dorm.
Again with the 'Hermione'?
Hermione offered Lavender her arm, and reluctantly, the blonde took it. The war heroine spun on the spot and they disappeared.
When they landed, they were...
"Is that...home?!" gasped Lavender, barely remembering that France was supposed to be her home. Then, remembering that she was 'Marie' and 'Hermione's friend', she threw her arms around Hermione and squeezed her tightly. Lavender had never been to Paris before, so this was quite an adventure. "Oh, Hermione, thank you! Merci beaucoup!"
The brunette smiled and hugged her back.
And Lavender found herself deciding that Hermione wasn't so bad after all.
"So how are you?" Hermione asked, leaning across the table toward Lavender. They had gotten a booth in the corner, and no one seemed to be paying them any attention. Her eyes were sparkling, and her hair now fell in ringlets to her waist. Lavender thought once again how gorgeous she was, but not bitterly.
"Bien." She shrugged. "Et tu? And you?"
Hermione huffed a breath. "Ugh, don't even get me started! Ronald proposed, again, and I refused. Again. It's like the word 'no' isn't even in his vocabulary!"
Lavender smiled shakily. Again? Ron had proposed before?
Hermione barreled on: "Merlin, even Harry's noticed!"
"Noticed what?" asked Lavender.
Hermione tilted her head. "Why, that I'm bisexual, of course."
"You...are?" Lavender had heard several rumors that she was a lesbian — that she had to be, refusing all the guys who asked her out. But she waved them away and didn't believe a word of them. She hurried on: "Not that that's bad! I am, too!"
Hermione's face lit up. "Really? Oh, Mar, you have no clue how relieved that makes me. I was afraid you were going to shun me. I know how strict your parents are about that sort of thing."
Now Lavender felt really bad. Apparently her parents and Marie's had the same idea. "Hermione, I —" she began.
The brunette leaned over and kissed her. And Lavender forgot how to speak. Hermione's lips were warm and slightly chapped, and they felt good against Lavender's own. But she couldn't enjoy the kiss.
She pulled away. Hermione looked confused.
"I-I..." she took a deep breath. "Hermione, I'm not Marie."
Hermione laid in bed one night, a week later, and reminisced about that conversation.
"I-I..." she took a deep breath. "Hermione, I'm not Marie."
To her utter surprise, Hermione laughed. Lavender frowned. That wasn't the reaction she had expected. She thought Hermione would be angry at her.
The brunette wiped her eyes. "I know."
"You...knew?" Lavender knew her voice was rising, but she couldn't help it. How had she known?
Hermione picked up the silver butter knife from beside her plate and Transfigured it into a small hand mirror. She handed it to Lavender, who took it hesitantly. What she saw in it made her gasp.
Her hair was still straight, but it had turned to her telltale golden-blonde. Her Glamour over her face and body had disappeared. Her eyes were now her regular blue, and her supermodel body had changed back to her curves.
She looked up. "When..."
"Did it come off?" Hermione finished. Lavender nodded, still in shock that Hermione wasn't in shock. "When we landed in France. You were so amazed, you lost control of your Glamour."
"And you don't..."
"Care?" Hermione raised her eyebrows. "No, you idiot. I like you. Now get over here so I can kiss you again."
Smiling, Lavender complied.