A/N: Hey, it's my first fanfic, so please be gentle. But review, reveiw, review! I'll listen to anything you have to say. And if the chapters turn out to be short? Err...blame the margins of fanfiction. net(just kidding! love you, website!) Love ya! Saph
Disclaimer: Oh, how I wished I owned Harry Potter...but, I don't, and Jo does, and I have now admitted that and cannot be sued.
It's the Trio's final year at Hogwarts, just FYI.
And italics are a character's thoughts.
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"But I don't wanna!" Marion Scott stamped her foot against the hard, cherry-wood floors of the entrance hall. "I'm sick of having to go with you! Why can't you just accept that I'm not you? We're different people, literally! I mean, come on, mom." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I'm a Witch!"
Well, that had done it. Patricia Scott's eyes narrowed to an alarming slit-like state, her nostrils flared, and she gasped. She reached one arm out to grab her daughter by the front of her shirt, pulled her close, and, about to scream, suddenly let go. A malicious glint in her eyes, she simply said "Fine." turned on her heel, and left. For at least an hour later, Marion sat on the floor, right outside of the door, wondering what had made her mother change her mind. She hadn't even screeched about Marion being a Witch, and having the neighbors find out, or done anything at all, for that matter. After years and years of this insanity, had her mother finally realized what she couldn't change? It really shouldn't have been too hard to accept her daughter, especially when she'd married her father fully aware of his "abilities", as her mother called them, yet somehow, it was. Four years ago, Marion's father, William, had passed away on a mission for the Ministry of Magic. He had been an Auror, and was consequently away rather frequently. However, he had always embraced his wife, despite her being a Muggle, and could not have been happier for his daughter when she'd been accepted to Hogwarts. Patricia, on the other hand, was appalled. Marion had her suspicions that her mother had only married her father for his wealth, and was not as "intrigued" by his "abilities" as she had said.
William never minded his daughter's apparent lack of cares for her appearance. In fact, it was a source of pride for him, that his daughter was so involved with her studies that her appearance didn't even matter. Patricia, of course, was completely ballistic about it. And when William died, she exercised no restraint in informing her of her disapproval. For years and years, every time she made an appointment at some Muggle place or another, she attempted to have Marion accompany her. Marion hated these visits, everything seemed so scary and unfamiliar. Not to mention, Patricia would be in there for hours, and come out looking completely different, in a bizarrely good mood. Marion came to learn that these were "spas", and were wildly popular with the Muggle women. She found these ridiculous, and when she was old enough to actually exert force to resist, Patricia began to leave her there. Years and years of birthday gifts to change her hair, her makeup, even her nails, what did it matter to her that Muggle teenage girls would have died for opportunities such as those? She wasn't a Muggle! Colored nails meant naught to her. Once, when she was nine, she'd tried the contactors, or contacties, or whatever they were called, as a substitute for her glasses, just to please her mother. She'd put them in the wrong way and cried for hours from the pain, unable to identify the problem. Her mother had adored it, and told her "women suffer for beauty". Marion found that so incredibly insane that the lights began to flicker and the windows blew open.
Years later, she'd been accepted to school and sorted into the Slytherin house. Her father had assumed that was some sort of mistake, and, confused, went to the Headmaster of the school. But Albus Dumbledore, while confused himself, insisted the the Sorting Hat makes no mistake. Marion's classmates often picked on her, making fun of her, asking why she wasn't put into Ravenclaw, and mocking her far-less-than-Pure-blood status. One boy, Draco Malfoy, chose to pick on her more than he picked on that stupid sensitive Potter boy. Oh, how she loathed that Potter. Always strutting about with his friends, boasting about his achievements, expecting the whole world to stop when he had a problem, acting like he was the only great Quidditch player at the school and that slacking in schoolwork would gain him more friends. Ha! As if. But most of all, she loathed him because Draco Malfoy loathed her even more than he loathed him, and that was saying something. No one outside of Slytherin even knew poor Marion existed. Maybe even no one outside of her year! But this would be her last year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and she was determined to be noticed. She had so many career options available for her at this point, slipping a little in school and paying a little more attention to appearance wouldn't be too terrible, right? Well, why not find out. If her mother was headed to that "beauty" place again, maybe she would go too...just this once. Jumping up quickly, she stuck her head out of the window and noticed her mother, still sitting in the driver's seat of that car, still waiting. How had she known? Marion called out "Mom-wait up!", changed into some of that atrocious Muggle clothing her mother was always buying for her, and headed out the door. A little change here and there, nothing too drastic-and she'd be ready to start off the year!
--
Several hours and one unbearable car trip later, Marion found herself at home, in front of the three hundred and sixty degree mirror in her mother's bedroom. Not exactly admiring, but, rather, observing, her new look. Her glasses gone, and the contacts (she soon learned the name) in without the pain, huge, blue-green eyes sparkled back at her. And while she had fought off the people with the scary looking brushes, and creams, and strange colored powders at first, she loved how they'd managed to make her eyes stand out like they never had before. Her cheeks looked rosy and healthy, and they'd even managed to bring out the "adorable" sprinkling of freckles across her nose. Marion's golden blonde hair had gone from a messy frizzy bun at the nape of her neck to long, sleek, shiny, and straight-which is when she noticed its true length, a good inch or so below her elbow. She'd been told her figure was "killer" by more than one woman there, and not to mention a very interesting man. Well, she had been incredibly scrutinized there, and her feeling of discomfort grew the more and more they paid attention to her. In fact, a little Muggle girl there started shrieking in apparent recognition of Marion, which was obviously impossible. But, no, the girl kept chattering on and on about how Marion was some sort of celebrity in her world, on that Muggle contraption they used to watch things. Despite Patricia's best efforts to adjust her daughter, Marion just never quite got the hang of their devices. After a good five minutes of confusion, and some jumbled-up names later, it had been established that the child had mistaken her for a girl named Ashley Tisdale, a frequent appearer of the "Dis-nee" channel, or something. In the mirror, Marion flipped her hair over her shoulder and pouted her newly red and glossed lips. Despite her best efforts to conceal one, a small grin had slipped out and was slowly spreading over her face. Alright, she could get used to this.
--
September First, one week later, found Marion Scott about to board the Hogwarts Express, with jitters in her stomach like never before. What would people think of the new her? Today her hair was wavy, with freshly-cut sideswept bangs straightened and a small rhinestone clip on one side of her hair. Her "make-up", as she had soon learned, was done in the same manner it had been the day of her "transformation". Well, at least, that's what her mother said-a transformation from an ugly duckling into a beautiful swan! Gee, thanks, Mom. Marion had thought to herself. Uncomfortable in her Muggle clothes, she'd planned on changing into her school robes as soon as she could, but was having some trouble finding an empty compartment. Her mother had given her a hug, which was rare, and announced that she was both proud of her and thought she looked gorgeous. Temporarily struck dumb, Marion had no response for this, and had run off to put in the contacts again. She sighed and blew some stray bangs out of her right eye, finally managing to lug her stuff over to a compartment that had looked empty. Wrenching it open, she peeked inside-oh no, there were people in there! She bit her lip nervously, what to do, what to do...when, suddenly, she heard a voice that made her hair stand on end.
"Oh, hellllo there." A voice drawled. "You're welcome to sit in here." Was that-no, no it couldn't be. Draco Malfoy wasn't seriously inviting her to sit with them? She swallowed a laugh. He didn't recognize her! Oh, she could have fun with this.
Any other girl in her position might have simply melted at that point in time, but she wasn't any other girl. Marion had no idea how to accept compliments of any sort, unless they were related to her academics. Flirting wasn't even in her vocabulary. Boys was a fresh addition, but now she was expected to have social interactions? In front of others? Right away! This was too much for her to handle. About to begin spluttering incoherently, she cast a surrepticious glance around the cabin, and realized the only other inhabitants were Draco's cronies, Crabbe and Goyle, and that weirdo Parkinson girl that always tried to copy off of her in Transfiguration. Come on, you can't even copy in Transfiguration! It's an individual talent! She mentally rolled her eyes, this was hardly a social situation. Deciding she had no one to impress, Marion locked eyes with the boy and gave a beautiful half-smile. "Why, thank you." she drawled back. A half-smile? Eye contact? Drawling? Who am I? Maybe Mom was right. I do feel like a different person. Gliding gracefully into the compartment (six years of Muggle posture-inducing sports had left their mark), Marion turned to put her luggage in the racks, when she noted that no one else's was there. Momentarily confused, which was apparently notable, the white-blonde boy that she hated so dearly chuckled.
"Haha, what a funny joke! Did you really expect to need to put away your own things? In the same compartment as you? No, no, let me take care of that." Stunned, it took a moment or two for Marion to realize that he wasn't being nice, he merely liked to display her own wealth. She scoffed quietly-if she had ever felt the need, two could play at that game! Draco strode out of the cabin, and before he'd even returned, her bags had vanished. How will I find them? Where will they go-is this even allowed "Don't fret, they'll be waiting for you in your dorm at school." He stated silkily, as if reading her mind. Feeling a sudden (and rare) surge of confidence, she nodded slightly and said "Not bad."
A look of pure fury crossed over Draco's face, and as briefly as it had come, it had gone. "Of course," he began "It could have been executed much better, but Father feels that it wouldn't be in-what were his words?-ah yes, good taste." He spat the last two words out, as if they were poison. "As if anything about this entire school was in good taste! You, know..." As Draco trailed off to rant, Marion sunk deeper and deeper into her own thoughts. Snapping to attention a few minutes later, she noticed his eyes on her and her cheeks grew warm. Oh dear, he must have asked me a question! See, I knew I wasn't ready for this... That awful, penetrating look she was receiving from him and that terrible smirk could only surmise into one thought. Ugh! That sickening prat! He must think I'm blushing because I like him! Thoroughly freaked out, Marion shook her head ever-so-slightly and inquired as to what Draco had requested. "I said, what is your name? Obviously you're a Slytherin, and you're obviously not a Seventh Year, Although you do have a Seventh Year's body-oh Draco, you are the king!, so what's your deal?" He stated, somewhat rudely, although a rather smug expression creeped across his face in the middle of the sentence. Marion raised a newly-waxed eyebrow. He genuninely has no idea who I am. He really doesn't get it! Astonished that one could be so dim-witted, she figured why even bother lying.
Clearing her throat gently, she said "I am a Seventh Year, actually."
Crabbe grinned devlishly. It looked really unappealing.
Goyle grinned in the same manner, but it made him look even worse, if at all possible.
Pansy's eyes went wide in shock, and she made a high-pitched noise, such as "Mmpf!", making it clear that she was rather miffed.
Draco Malfoy, however, smirked again. That look suited him rather well, Marion noted, as did the way his immaculate white-blonde hair fell into his eyes. Wait, what? No, no, it must be cologne fumes that are getting to me.
"Is that so." he drawled out again.
"Um, yeah."
"New student, eh?"
Marion paused, shocked. No, you idiot! I've been going to school with you since we were eleven! Our dads were accquaintances at the Ministry of Magic for Merlin's sake! No, I'm not a new student! So she would have been quite surprised if she'd actually replied "Yes." yet, somehow, common sense took hold of her.
"Err...no." she began. "I'm a Seventh Year Slytherin, and I've been here as long as you have." Whether you recognize me or not!
The compartment-mates looked at one another curiously. Marion took a deep breath, and continued. "No, I haven't switched Houses or anything..." losing her nerve, she trailed off. Not that it mattered, because suddenly the door banged open, revealing three others standing near the entrance. One with hair like a dirty mop, one who's head was on fire, and the other wearing a giant shrubbery on her head. Well, that's what it looked like, anyway. Potter! she thought maliciously. Apparently, she and Draco were in the same mindset (um, scary?) because the moment the door flew open, he turned around abruptly and spat out the same exact thing.
"Potter! Oh, little Potty, can we help you? Because as much as I'd hate to, you sure could need it..." Crabbe and Goyle guffawed, and Pansy laughed a rather alarming laugh that sounded more like a sick dog's bark. Draco smirked, but Marion merely rolled her eyes. And that's when that damned golden trio noticed her. Stupid Harry Potter went goggle-eyed (because hey, it wasn't like he was getting any), lame Hermione Granger (Marion could out-exam her any day) emitted a small gasp, and that weasel, Ron Weasley-who was no longer as awkward, gangly, or unattractive as he used to be-had a sickening grin on his face, and he was nodding as if in approval. Marion felt her cheeks flush, but she gave them a cold, hard, well-practiced Ice Queen stare. Inherited from her mother, she used it frequently when anyone disturbed her studies,as they so often did. Those who actually has interactions her at school thought she was a bitch, but not without reason. And now, here she was, Marion Scott, standing in a compartment with Draco Malfoy (the train hadn't yet begun to move) with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley gogling at her. This was just too weird.
"Shut it, you." Harry replied, rather rudely. "We're not here to make fun, we're here for the girl." He pointed in Marion's direction. "Headmistress's orders. Hurry."
Marion's mind went blank. What?