Disclaimer: If I was J.K. Rowling, I would not be writing something so mundane as this.
A/N: This completely disregards both the Half Blood Prince and the Deathly Hallows.
Hermione Granger was really quite a determined person
And this determination, coupled with an overbearing urge to do good in the world, resulted in her pursuing things that otherwise might have been, well, abandoned. She tended to take in things that would have been discarded, unloved and unwanted- Crookshanks, Harry Potter, Victor Krum's library fetishes, Neville Longbottom, Ancient Runes, and the most controversial of them all, house elves. Despite Ron's constant grumblings, her peers indifference, and the ridicule of Ministry of Magic officials, she had still clung on desperately to her S.P.E.W. campaign. And now that the war was over and she didn't have to focus on Voldemort, she could donate much more of her time and energy into the issue. Which was why she was currently sitting at a large booth located in front of a poster that broadcasted the words S.P.E.W. She had been there for almost two hours, and so far had had no success with her campaign. Most people had looked at her, looked at the poster, and fled in the opposite direction. She was not discouraged, however, after all she had only been there for two hours. Many campaigns- such as the Society for the Sympathetic Lycophantics, arranged by Helga Dropwith in 1893- had taken years to take off. Really, she just needed to be more encouraging about the whole thing. If she just smiled some more, was a bit more enthusiastic, people would just zoom towards her like magnets! Hermione smiled at a passing first year Hufflepuff, who promptly screamed and ran straight into a wall.
Oh well. Hufflepuffs didn't know anything anyways.
Two weeks later, Hermione was feeling a bit less optimistic.
She had been sitting here for the past 14 days, her banner had ripped in one corner, her hair looked like a cat had attacked it because she kept on pulling her hands though it in frustration, and her bum hurt from sitting so DAMN long! WHERE were her loyal followers? Her eager members? The people who were supposed to worship the damned ground she walked on because of her amazingly never ending generosity towards enslaved underrepresented beings? Her speeches and petitions and parties and cakes and champagne and big poofy dresses and knitting clubs and shiny badges and just goddamned money!
She seethed.
And seethed.
And seethed some more.
And then she realized, through the darkness and despair, the one thing that she hated to admit.
She was an absolutely horrible business woman.
The facts hit her fast, piling up onto each other. She had never been able to appeal to other people, had never been capable of portraying her concerns and ideas in ways that made others think. Starting with Ron, her failures in business were numerous- never had anyone been really interested in what she had to say about house elves! Even those that were slightly interested never amounted to anything, they were all talk and no action. She could sit in this damn booth for months, years, on end and nothing about her campaign would ever change. It had to be accepted, she had failed. And there was nothing she could do about it.
Her face fell, skin falling into wrinkles, forehead knotting together and bottom lip trembling. She had failed! Failed! The one thing she never did, never succumbed to, had finally found its way to her. She could see its ghastly green face, grinning in perverse delight as it finally overcame her. She was so distracted by this horrifying thought that she didn't even wonder why her vision of failure was green and fanged.
It cackled.
She sobbed.
It cackled some more.
She buried her face in her hands.
It cackled even more!
She banged her fist into the desk and it hit something sharp and pointy.
"OW!" She yelled in pain. Two second years watching her in interest bolted through the doors in fright.
Now she was seriously pissed off. She had just jammed her hand into a freaking pencil!
The monster of failure decided the time was ripe to cackle yet again. But this time, Hermione was so angry at that stupid green thing that she resolved that she was going to wring its fucking slimy neck if it was the last thing she did.
Hermione really was quite an intelligent girl. She knew a whole lot of things. And when she put all of these interesting things together, well then, she had a whole lot of interesting conclusions!
She knew that…
Number 1: She was a horrendous businesswoman.
Number 2: She needed S.P.E.W. to become a large scale organization.
Number 3: Because of this, she would have to find someone to assist her in business ideas.
Number 4: Neither Harry nor Ron possessed those insights.
Number 5: The only former and current Gryffindors who possessed those brains were Dumbledore and Fred and George Weasley.
Number 6: The twins were as likely to help her free elves as they were to start selling blast ended screwts, and Dumbledore was… well, Dumbledore simply wouldn't do.
Number 7: Hufflepuffs had about as much business strategy as a loaf of bread.
Number 8: Although Slytherins were the most manipulative and cunning lot of the school, they would also rather eat their head than help muggleborn Granger free house elves.
Conclusion: She must recruit someone from the Ravenclaw house to help her!
And with that, she set off to go spy on their vast masses, using Harry's invisibility cloak and her illustrious Head Girl status to help her.
One stressful week later, and she was severely disappointed with the Ravenclaws. She had spied in their dormitory for lengthy hours at a time, interrogated them during classes, and observed them playing chess. And only two options- two!- had seemed decent: Ray Pickle and Salvanna Marriett.
She approached Ray first. He listened with a bewildered stare for a couple of seconds, then his eyes grew wide with the realization that she was trying to recruit him into that dreaded S.P.E.W. club! He had heard stories about her savage dictatorship in Gryffindor tower. "Um, Hermione" he said, stumbling backwards, "I, uh, really don't think that I would do well with, uh, your throw up club." And he ran.
Hermione sighed. Oh well, who wanted someone with a last name of Pickle anyways.
Salvanna was harder to corner. Apparently Ray had warned the entire Ravenclaw tower that Hermione was recruiting lab rats for her experimental club about the scientific aspects of vomit. She couldn't find a single Ravenclaw anywhere. It was ridiculous! Drastic measures would really need to be taken. This was more important than her reputation- she would simply have to stalk Salvanna.
It was ridiculously easy- almost too easy. Only one class period later, Salvanna had excused herself to go to the loo. Hermione immediately followed, and once they were a safe distance away…
"Petrificous totalus!" Salvanna slumped to the ground immediately.
Hermione couldn't help herself. She let out a gleeful cackle. Then she levitated the body up to the heads dorms. Once inside, the spell was lifted, and Salvanna immediately began to whimper in fear. Hermione was just about to start the initiation program (which included two slideshows and a basic knitting class) when…
"Granger? What are you doing?"
Oh dear.