Chapter 1: For The Worst

Sometimes people have secrets. The kind of secrets that eat away at you, slowly, from the inside. The secrets that make you suspicious of an innocent glance. That make your breath quicken at a harmless comment. That make your blood feel thicker as it flows through your veins, fearful that it will flow out of your body with the tell tale color of blue blood. These secrets make you ashamed, scared, and apprehensive. All at the same time. Never-ceasing. It can cause a person to loose control, to accidentally crack and reveal the one thing they have been trying so hard to hide. I had never cracked, never lost my composure, I had never told.

But as I sat silently, head between my knees, hoping I could stay locked up in the train compartment forever, I knew my deception was over. I had hoped I could stay Hermione Granger for the rest of my life, I couldn't see myself in any other way. But it was over, all over.

It had all started with my parents. It seemed the sins of the father do fall down the family tree. My parents, the ones that weren't over-protective dentists who always wished the best for their daughter, were death eaters. Muggle-born haters, killers of the flesh, torturers, criminals, low-lives. Or if you asked a Slytherin: blue bloods, geniuses, wizarding legends, martyrs. Dying for their cause, dying for their Lord. Dead.

Hermione Granger was their legacy. Hermione D'jore was their legacy. I was the sole heir to the money, prestige, success. Bushy haired, buck-toothed, know-it-all? It had been hard to look in the mirror and be content with my less than charming appearance. But I had managed-because I had been happy. Mudblood or not I had held in my hands everything I wanted and I hadn't needed any dirty money or dirty connections to get me there. Now, however, my image was slightly changed. I had all the gleaming traits of the pureblood D'jore family line: blue eyes, black straight shining hair, translucent skin, things that made me pretty or if you were being particularly flattering beautiful.

It had been a spell that had kept me wrapped up in a cocoon of adolescent horridness once described as "the most atrocious thing I've ever laid eyes on" but then again Slytherins were always a bit dramatic. My beloved Uncle had cast the charm. With a swish and a slight change in the wind Damien Zabini, my teacher and protector had altered me for what I had assumed would be forever or at least until I had graduated with honors from Hogwarts. He had prepared me for everything the wizarding world had to offer before I had ever dreamed of sorting hats and a boy named Harry Potter. Had changed me, for the better he said, had given me to a muggle family, a better family, a safer family. All for the better.

I had grown up thinking I was a normal girl. Forgotten about my fantasy land of wands and spells for a time. I then grew up like a muggle, gone to Hogwarts as a muggleborn, made friends as a mudblood. I remembered my secret as a know-it-all does. I kept the letter my Uncle gave me in my pocket as constant reminder, it wouldn't last, but I had kept my secret. I couldn't tell.

It was all a bit confusing. Being a mudblood, but being a pureblood. Letting people taunt me for an undignified birth but knowing my blood line was purer than the Parkinsons and of course the Malfoys. Knowing I had an inheritance to count on but constantly broke with only a few muggle dollars to exchange for galleons. Knowing one day that Hermione Granger would be no more, knowing this day would come.

As I sat there, alone, I didn't feel like myself. I didn't feel my bushy hair fan my face or my brown eyes stare back at me in the window's reflection. I saw the grown-up version of me as a small girl, a larger version of a vague memory of myself. But I hardly saw me. It was an identity crisis for the ages that I had no time to figure out. The fact that I had changed back meant something, I just didn't know what.

While I sat there, trying to clear my head, the door burst open accompanied by Draco Malfoy. Despite the fact that I was a pureblood, a supposed comrade to his family, I detested the boy more than words can describe. Although, I had tried numerous times.

He stood in the entrance, looking as intimidating as ever, and upon seeing me gave a small smile. A smile that made me shiver slightly, making me yearn for his familiar smirk. I quickly grew wary as he took a seat next to me and extended his pale hand, "I don't think we've met." his hand stood in mid-air, "Draco Malfoy." I could see the infamous Malfoy had not changed much from last year, he still had the eerily pale skin, overly expensive dress robes, and aura of arrogance about him.

"We've met." I responded coldly, not in the mood for dealing with Draco Malfoy despite the praise he often received from my Uncle. He was still a self-involved prat with an ego complex yet to be addressed. The memories that surfaced upon the mention of his name, made a glare grace my features, and I knew Malfoy was a bit more than put off at this point.

Malfoy stared back at me saying nothing and I couldn't help but feel a bit flush due to his rudely unwavering gaze. I broke eye contact and left his hand dangling as if diseased, "I would think it wasn't pleasant." replied Malfoy.

I let a moment pass, wishing for his disappearance. "Malfoy, I would appreciate it if you just left me alone, I have head duties to attend to." I glared at him again for good measure but he seemed again unaffected.

He was undeterred of course and continued to sit across from me gaining more confidence by the second, "I just happen to be Head Boy." Malfoy said with the smirk that seconds ago I had longed for. My hand itched to smack that lovely expression off his pristinely pointed face as I stared open-mouthed. The news couldn't possibly be true because I knew there was no way that I could sanely work with Draco Malfoy. I was edging on insane without his help.

"Funny how things work out." Hilarious.

I continued to ignore him once again, laying my severely exasperated head against the seat. His mere presence was exhausting. I thought the ensuing silence would get him to leave, but that would have been too easy.

"Look." He started in a sincere tone, touching the small of my back which I raised an eyebrow at and swatted away, "I'm sorry for never owling you but I've been going through some things, and I thought it best that we didn't get involved-seriously I mean."

I let myself take a moment to puzzle over his words. He couldn't of course be inferring what I thought he was…that I would ever…No, of course not. "Malfoy, what the bloody hell are you going on about?"

"Well," he whispered, "The whole…one night stand…." My mouth definitely hung open at this point, "It's really not my style." That was rich.

I sat bolt upright then, my energy rejuvenated if only to defend my honor, "I have never!" I began with an indignant huff, "In my whole entire life, nor will I ever in my whole entire life, shag you of all people, Draco Malfoy. Ever." With that I stood up, taking a seat across the compartment, as far away as humanly possible.

"Oh." I saw no signs of embarrassment and tried to pretend that I had not just been accused of sleeping with Malfoy. It was remarkable, the effect a small change in appearance can make upon a hormonal boys mindset. I obviously now looked like the type of girl up for a quick shag. Disgusting.

"Ohhhh…" he said seeming to have a sudden epiphany, "I know it might be intimidating working with someone from a prestigious family such as mine but really there is no need to be apprehensive about it." I could just hear in his condescending tone that he actually believed the words that were coming out of his mouth. No, he hadn't changed one conceited iota from last year.

"Malfoy. Your heritage is nothing to be proud of, its disgraceful and you actually believing that your supposed 'prestige' is why I don't want to work with you is damn near pitiable." I said as way of answer, feeling suddenly nostalgic as I began to tell off my oldest enemy. I didn't get the same satisification that I usually would.

"Such sarcasm isn't good for your health."

"I'm not being sarcastic."

"You shouldn't be so pissed off, mudblood, that's what you are, aren't you?" I got up to leave then when he took hold of my arm, "Hit a nerve, did I." I wrangled my hand out of his grasp and glared.

"Don't touch me." I growled. He just smirked standing there as if he hadn't heard what I said. So I stepped closer to make my point clear looking into his eyes for emphasis, "Don't tempt me Malfoy, I'm inches away from marring that pretty face of yours. A curse, anything to make you hurt really, I'm more than willing to attempt anything that causes you bodily harm. " Quite a threat, but I felt capable of living up to it. I certainly had the initiative.

"I'd like to see you try." He shot back hotly, so I did. In one motion I had raised my hand and slapped him. It was almost gratifying as I reminisced back to a similar moment in third year but this time I felt the fear that comes with hitting a boy-man- no definitely a boy twice your size. But my anger quickly pushed that fear out of my mind as I stalked to the door.

"…And I'm not a mudblood!" I hissed, "I'm a pureblood, and the name is D'jore, you irreparable prat!" with that said I stomped out of the compartment in search of my oldest Gryffindor friends, built up with a suppressed rage. As I entered our usual compartment they all looked up at me surprised at my abrupt and flustered entrance.

"Malfoy is a git." I said stonily taking a seat, my hands shaking slightly in anger and disgust. Ginerva Weasley and Harry Potter who had been staring at opposite ends of the compartment, glanced quickly at each other in a moment of shared amusement before seeming to remember something and looking away again while Ronald Weasley gave an expected response of "see we aren't the only ones" and that's when I remembered that they didn't have a clue who I was. At least not in my current appearance.

I blushed and attempted to explain, "Well…," the words that wanted to stream out of my mouth, rehearsed as they were would undoubtedly sound insane once spoken. I had prepared a speech of sorts for my friends, to explain to them why I looked like this, why I had lied for so long, and why I had never told them.

"You probably think I'm a bit mad for just stomping in here with no invitation and then exclaiming something like this… but I have a valid explanation and it will probably shock you a bit but..." Here I stopped and took a big breath trying to image their reactions before finally just saying it, "It's me, Hermione." I took a breath readying myself for their reaction. Silence followed.

Ron was the first to speak, "Hermione Granger? Best witch in our year, incessantly talking about studies and the adverse affects of foul language?"

Harry's snicker followed, "The one who doesn't bother to comb her hair in the morning because she has already pronounced it a lost cause.

Ginny added, "You don't look a bit like her, Ms. D'jore is it? Perhaps you'd like to prank some Gryffindors a bit less gullible or maybe you'd like a curse to send you on your way. I would be more than happy to oblige."

"Well yes and well no" I gave Ginny a stern glance, "I'm actually Hermione…just Hermione D'jore."

I heard Ron whisper quietly to Harry something that made my body tremble with built up anticipation. I prepared myself to give a very long and detailed explanation, silently hoping for the best but preparing, as was my nature whether I was Granger or not, for the worst.