Harry Potter wasn't what you'd call a normal boy. In fact, if you were to ask the Dursleys, who he lived with, they would say that he was the exact opposite; He was a troublemaking Freak! Of course, trouble found him, not the other way around and rather than being a freak he was just a wizard which was a fairly normal thing, really. But of course on this day, his fifteenth birthday, he thought that maybe he really was a freak. After all, he didn't remember looking at all like the person in the mirror.

For one, he didn't remember his hair going past his shoulders or being that curly and shiny, and he certainly didn't remember having such doe eyes or full, pink lips. His skin wasn't that pale, and while he was always on the shorter side of the spectrum, the person staring back at him with those greyish-blue eyes was a few inches shorter than himself. And then there were those. Yes, those. Those things on his chest that he knew one-hundred and ten percent that he didn't have.

The dead silence was broken by a sharp, musical laugh from his altered vocals. It had to be the twins! They must have spiked his birthday cake from Mrs. Weasley! Most of their appearance altering prank items only forced the change for a few minutes, so he'd just have to sit and wait for it to wear off. It must have been a new product because he was sure they didn't have a gender changing item during the last year at Hogwarts.

It definitely wasn't polyjuice; rather than feeling like bubbles under his skin, this change felt more like being lit on fire and then immediately being doused with ice water. Yeah, definitely not a pleasant sensation. He had a quick mental debate on which was truly worse and was tempted to say that he'd rather be subjected to polyjuice potion again.

His musings had lasted a few minutes and he was starting to get worried. The change should have worn off by now. He'd write the Weasleys and ask about it while he was waiting. Not like he really had anything better to do. He drunkenly staggered out of the bathroom and down the short hallway to his bedroom, where he stuffed a chair under the door handle - if the Dursleys saw him like this, they'd surely kill him.

He'd like to say blocking the door did some good, but as soon as he flattened his parchment on his repaired desk, the door cracked down the middle and was thrown across the room. Harry grabbed his wand from the desk and leveled it at the doorway as he backed into the corner of the room, only to see the last person he expected to see stride into the room. Before Harry could open his mouth, his wand leaped from his hand straight into the hand of Albus Dumbledore.

"Professor Dumbledore?" Harry asked, fear creeping into his voice. Despite Dumbledore's colorful rainbow robes, he'd never been more terrified of the man in his life. He wore a face of unrestrained and unadulterated rage, and when he spoke it was with venom.

"What have you done with him? Where is Harry Potter?!"

"Er, professor...I am Harry Potter. I think that Fred and George might have done something to me?" As soon as he replied he found himself unable to move. Not paralyzed by fear, of course, but rather Dumbledore had frozen him in place so quickly that Harry hadn't even realized he'd moved.

Dumbledore waved his wand over the room a few times before turned back and doing the same to Harry himself. "I don't detect any potions in your body...no glamours either...very well. If you are Harry Potter, then answer me this; What did you find with your cloak during Christmas break of your first year and what did I tell you when I caught you?"

Finding himself able to work his jaw again, he took a deep break and answered, somewhat uncertainly. "The mirror of Erised. You told me 'do not dwell on dreams and forget to live' or something like that?"

"I think, Mr. Potter, that you'd best be coming with me." With a wave of his wand, Harry felt the paralysis lift and he staggered into the wall behind him, barely stopping himself from crashing to the floor.

"Um, professor...I can't really, move very well..." Harry said, embarrassed about his lack of mobility. "I don't know why it's like my body doesn't want to do what I'm telling it."

"Ah! Of course! Take my arm, Harry." With a couple strides across the small bedroom, the aged man was beside Harry with his arm outstretched. "Best take a deep breath. This will be somewhat unpleasant."

Harry did what he was told and took a deep breath before he grabbed onto the Headmaster's forearm. Nothing could have prepared him for what came next; if he had to liken the sensation to anything, it would be getting forced through a garden hose and then stretched out as he came out of the other end. In the split second that it began, it was over and he was on his hands and knees gasping for air and trying not to vomit.

"Deep breaths Harry, and then I need you to read this and memorize it." Harry found a piece of parchment shoved into his hands and did as he was asked. The headquarters of the Order of the Pheonix is located at 12 Grimmauld Place. "Harry, when we get inside, speak to nobody. Not even Sirius. Do you understand? Good, follow me."

Dumbledore led him across the urban city street and as they approached the row of identical residential buildings, a clone of all the others on the street seemed to just grow out between two others. Before he had time to wonder on it, Dumbledore had taken him by the elbow and led him up onto the steps and quietly through the door. It was a dark and musty place, and almost immediately he could feel an air of unhappiness settle on him.

He was led to the bottom of a tall and winding staircase and told to stay put as Dumbledore disappeared down a nearby stair. His curiosity got to him when his eyes settled on what he could tell was a curtained portrait. He quietly took the couple steps to it and carefully pulled back the curtain. The woman behind it was clearly about to start shouting, judging by the deep breath she sucked, but when she caught a look at Harry she froze.

"A Black! One of my blood-traitor son's, no doubt!"

"A Black? I'm not a Black!"

"Oh, you're certainly a Black. I wouldn't be surprised if Sirius had a dozen bastards running around, out there! Kreacher!"

Harry couldn't hold back the decidedly feminine squeak when a dirty old house elf popped into existence right in front of him. Its towel was grimy and the thing looked like it hadn't had a good day in twenty years.

"Well, Kreacher? What do you make of this one? One of Sirius', surely?" the painting asked, in an arrogant tone.

"Oh no, not blood-traitor master's," he muttered. "Child of Regulus, mistress. I can see it without magic, mistress."

He was about to ask who Regulus was when he felt an iron grip on his shoulder. He looked up to see Dumbledore's steely gaze and Sirius with a haunted look in his eye. Before he knew it, he was being pushed up several flights of stairs and into a large bedroom on the third floor.

"Sirius?"

"My mother is right, Dumbledore. It's a short story so I'll get right into it; Regulus, my younger brother," he said for Harry's benefit, "came to me with a baby girl and asked me to find a home for her. He said he found something about the Dark Lord, and he was worried about his family. I argued with him, tried to get him to tell me what was going on, but he wouldn't. All he would say was that Voldemort couldn't die, and he knew why."

"The mother?"

"Greengrass. She had twin daughters, but she couldn't give up both of them," Sirius said, without taking his eyes off of Harry.

All of a sudden, it was becoming real. It wasn't a Weasley prank. He wasn't actually a she. Harry Potter wasn't a girl. It was becoming hard to breathe and the room was spinning around him. He couldn't be a girl! It wasn't possible! He was a boy, Harry Potter, and he had been for fifteen years now. He found himself being forced into a plush armchair in the corner of the dark room and Sirius was on his knees in front of him, her?

"You knew?" Harry managed to choke out. "You knew the whole time and you didn't say anything?"

"No! Harry, I swear I didn't know! I turned you over to James around the same time that Lily had given birth. Something must have gone wrong with Lily's birth and they had you take their baby's place. I swear I didn't know that you were the same." Sirius pulled Harry into a crushing hug and the damn broke. His tears felt like liquid fire burning their way down his cheeks as a sob escaped his lips.

"So I'm not a Potter?" Harry asked, heartbroken.

"Harry; you will always be a Potter in your heart and that is what matters. In your blood, however, you are a Black. The fact that the blood wards around Privet Drive have fallen should attest to that. I would guess that Lily and James used a blood glamour, and it could no longer sustain itself," Dumbledore replied in an understanding tone, with a sad look in his eyes. "Family is what you make of it Harry. If you so decide, James and Lily will always be your mother and father. Do not forget that. Their sacrifices will always be genuine."

"So I'm really a girl, then? This is all real?"

"Yeah, pup. It's all real."

Harry took a deep breath and steadied himself as he wiped the tears from his eyes. "All right. I need a name, then. And somebody has to teach me how to be a girl."

"Just like that?" Sirius asked in shock. "No breaking everything? No shouting and denying everything?"

Harry stood on unsteady legs before he answered. "To what point? Fighting it wouldn't change anything. And I'm getting pretty good at taking things in stride, after the last four years at Hogwarts."

"I suppose you have a good point..."

"And plus, I don't have to be Harry Potter, anymore!" He exclaimed, with real joy at the prospect. "No more expectations, no more people whispering or pointing at me!"

"Albus?"

"Well, I suppose he's quite correct. He has a chance for a fresh start," Dumble smiled and his eyes twinkled. "But that leaves us with what to do with Harry Potter."

Harry caught himself mid-skip and looked thoughtful. "Dead. Harry Potter was killed fighting Death Eaters. Make me a martyr. It might stir up enough to get an investigation going on Voldemort."

"Harry...are you sure about that? A lot of people will be hurt by that news," Sirius said, giving him an incredulous look.

"Well I can't tell anybody that I'm Harry Potter, and technically I'm not. Tell them Harry's off training for the war or something, then."

"We have time to make these decisions - it is yet early in the summer and nobody will be asking questions for some months, minus your friends of course," Dumbledore said.

"Fair weather friends, maybe," Harry spat, tucking a few stray hairs behind his ear. "Nobody else should know, outside of us. As far as they're concerned, Sirius tracked down's Regulus' daughter and brought her back, which again is the truth."

Dumbledore's eyes widened, and he stooped to Harry's level. He slowly raised a hand to Harry's forehead and brushed back his bangs; it took everything in Harry's power to not backstep at the sudden close proximity. "The scar is gone...Harry, tell me everything that you can remember about your change."

"There's really nothing to tell, it happened so quickly. It felt like somebody lit a fire and threw me headfirst into it, and then immediately dunked me in ice water," he said nervously.

"Attached to the body, rather than the soul...would account for the resistance to its influence...the breakdown of your former body must have dislodged it..." he said quietly, to himself. "Good news, my boy, or rather my girl. Do you remember when I said all those years ago that Voldemort gave a piece of himself to you? It appears as if your change has destroyed that piece!"

"I feel much calmer now. Would that piece have affected my attitude...like made me angrier?" Harry asked, retaking his seat in the armchair.

"I believe it is possible, surely. Probably, in fact. Tom Riddle was, after all, a very angry person and I wouldn't be surprised if that rubbed off on you."

Harry couldn't keep the smile off of his face. Voldemort could hold him under the cruciatus for all he cared, and he'd laugh through it. He was free! He was truly free and the scar being gone was the ultimate proof. "So what now?"

"Now, we have to arrange a female influence in your life. Somebody to teach you what you need to know to be a woman," Sirius said, with a half laugh.

"What's so funny, Uncle Siri?" Harry smirked.

Sirius' jaw dropped at the sudden realization. He was an uncle and his godson was his niece! He didn't even have time to react before Harry launched himself into his arms and squeezed him in the happiest hug of his life. "We need a name for you, pup. Can't keep calling you Harry. Oh! And we're going to move your birthday to a week from today."

"Did the Greengrass lady not give me a name?" Harry asked, head still on Sirius' chest.

"Regulus didn't tell me if they named you. It's possible that he left something in his room here. We'll take a look later." Sirius turned to look at Dumbledore, who was quietly smiling at the pair from the corner of the room. "Any ideas for a trainer?"

"Maybe your cousin Andromeda? Or her daughter Nymphadora?"

Sirius snorted. "Not bloody likely. Andi has no love for this family and lets's face it, Dora isn't exactly what you'd call 'ladylike."

"If it saves you the trouble, just get me some books and I'll figure it out on my own. If somebody has to come teach me all of this stuff, they'd obviously know that I'm not exactly who I say I am," Harry offered.

Dumbledore pulled up his sleeve and checked one of the many watched on his wrist before he motioned to Sirius. "It's time for the meeting, Sirius. We'll tell everybody that you've retrieved Regulus' daughter. If they ask for her name, tell them - "

"Serina," Harry said, remembering one of his classmate's name from muggle school. "Serina Black. It's not a star, as far as I'm aware, but I'm also a Greengrass. If we learn my real name later, we can tell them that the people I was with before called me Serina."

Sirius smiled at him, no not him, her. He was a she now and she had to get used to thinking like it. "I like it, Serina. We'll go with it. You look like you're pretty worn out, Serina; you might as well lay down and take a nap. The bed is clean and fresh; I'll come back up after the meeting."

Harry...Serina just nodded and put her questions on hold for later, but one burning question forced it's way out of her mouth just as her Uncle was pulling the door shut behind him on his way out. "Do I have to go back? To the Dursleys, I mean?"

Sirius stopped and took a half step back into the room. He turned and gave her a warm smile, a smile full of care and love. "Never again, pup. I won't even let them think about it." And then he was out and the newly christened Serina Black was left alone with her thoughts.

Serina kicked off the ill-fitting shoes and rubbed he sore ankles. Her feet were so small now, she idly thought. All of her was small now, really. She was several inches shorter than before the change, and her general mass had reduced along with the height. She wandered to the vanity next to the door and took in her appearance in the mirror. Just as Harry did before, Serina looked sickly. Skin and bones, even in a new body.

She sighed and threw herself down on the bed, sinking into the feather mattress and pulled the duvet loosely around her, wrapping herself in it like a cacoon. She hadn't realized how much energy the change had really drained her of. She didn't have time to think on it anymore, as the next thing she knew, she was dreaming.

/

Upon waking, Serina found herself extremely uncomfortable. Not only was she made aware that she was very hungry, but she had to fight for control of her bladder. Luckily for her, the room she was in had its own bathroom. She fought her way out of the tangle of blankets she was in and padded across the dimly lit room and through the extra door. She took her place standing in front of the toilet bowl before it hit her; she had to sit down to pee! Merlin, she was going to be fighting a blush for the rest of the day.

Out of curiosity, she took a quick sniff of her shirt and winced at the rank smell. She must have been burning up, wrapped up like she was in the July heat and ended up sweating profusely. With a sigh, she resolved to shower as soon as she finished her other business; best to just get it all out of the way at once.

Taking a steadying breath, she let Harry's old trousers and boxers drop and took a seat. He couldn't make himself look, so as he released control of his bladder, he kept his gaze firmly on the wastebin against the wall across from him. Finished with his business, he cleaned himself up and pulled his trousers back on his now wider hips.

"Kreacher?" She called, tentatively.

With a pop, the old house elf appeared in front of her, making her jump regardless of the fact that she was expecting it. "What can Kreacher do for Miss?"

"Right, er - is there anything for me to wear?" Serina asked the haggard looking servant.

"Of course, Miss. Kreacher will lay some of Mistress Bella's old things on the bed for you." And then with another pop, he was gone.

With no excuse to delay any longer, Seline quickly pulled her shirt over her head and felt a peculiar tightening sensation as his new breasts were exposed to the cool air of the bathroom. Flushing, she brushed it off and stepped out of the trousers and underwear again and stepped into the shower. Her entire body broke out in goosebumps as her feet made contact with the cold ceramic of the bathtub, and she hurriedly spun the taps to get the water running.

He, no dammit, she reached for a bar of soap that suspiciously appeared just as he began looking for one and began the process of scrubbing himself down while doing his best to avoid his new parts. Finally, when he had nothing else to wash and no excuse, he brought the bar of soap to his chest. Merlin! Sure it was his body, but he'd been a guy for the last fifteen years and this was embarrassing! No choice though; this was who he was now, and he had no choice but to get used to it.

Se tried to ignore the pleasurable feeling of the soap rubbing over his newly sensitive nipples and he washed down there as quickly as possible. He fought back the full body flush as he replaced the bar of soap and began the process of shampooing his now long hair. He thought it had only reached his shoulders, but when it was wet and the curls were out of the picture, it had to be level with his armpits.

Finishing that, he stepped out of the shower and patted himself dry before trying to work the water out of his hair, and failing that he wrapped himself in his towel and re-entered his room. True to his word, Kreacher had left clothes for her on the bed. There were plain back knickers and a bra on top of the pile, with a black dress? laying under those. Without further ado, Serina stepped into the knickers and pulled them snug on her hips before eyeing the bra apprehensively. She slipped her arms through the straps and held the cups up to her breasts, but couldn't get the damn thing hooked in the back!

Giving it up as a bad job, she wrapped the towel around herself again and called for Kreacher. When he appeared, it wasn't quite alone. He had the portrait of the woman from the ground floor landing with him. He propped the portrait up against the wall and disappeared without a word.

"Try putting it on backward, dear," she advised, with an amused smile.

"Backwards?"

"Of course. Hook it on your chest and then spin it around and slide your arms through the straps," she answered, in a tone that suggested it was common sense.

"Oh. Alright..." Doing what she was told, Serina pulled the bar around her backward and clasped it between her breasts before shimmying it around and pulling her arms through. "Much easier!"

"Dear girl, you act like you've never worn a bra before!" the woman laughed.

"Um...er...I haven't," Serina said uncomfortably, scuffing the floor with her heel.

"Don't fidget. A proper lady never fidgets!" the portrait reprimanded her. "Explain."

Looking at the floor and making a conscious effort to act like a proper lady and not fidget, she answered her. "I was raised as a boy. Dumbledore said I was blood glamoured."

The portrait gave her a sharp, searching look before nodding. "Very well. I will instruct you in the ways of a pureblood lady. First, finish dressing."

Har-Serina, she was Serina now, picked up the dress and examined it. With a sigh, she pulled it over her head and felt the weight settle on her hips, rather than her shoulders like she would have expected. The torso was stiff, but the floor-length skirt was soft and flowing.

"Kreacher!" The portrait called. "Do her corset up."

Before Serina could protest, she felt the air being forced out of her lungs as the corset was laced and constricted around her. She fought for her breath for a few moments before she figured out to take shallower breaths.

"Good, you learn quick. That'll make this easier. Go eat, dearie. We'll begin your lessons when you have more time."

"Um, er...sorry? Why did I have to dress up just to eat?" Harry asked, pulling on the low-heeled shoes that were left for him. "I don't plan on leaving."

"The idea is to be used to wearing such things by the time you do leave." And then she snapped at Serina. "Eyes up! This dirty old carpet can't be that interesting. Now go eat."

Serina took slow strides across the room, trying not to roll her ankle or trip on the skirt. After a couple passes around the room, she finally made her way to the door and hoped Sirius would keep the ribbing to a minimum when he saw her. Sure he told Dumbledore and Sirius that this change was all well and good, but inside he was a mess. Okay, so he was actually a girl the entire time. That knowledge didn't just make everything okay, especially when he still had the mind of a male.

She didn't actually know where he was going, so he made his way slowly down the stairs and headed towards the stairs Dumbledore disappeared down to get Sirius when they initially arrived in the dark old house. She almost missed her step when she passed a wall of severed house-elf heads. Clutching her frantically beating heart, she finished her downward trek and stood at the top of the dark stair into what must have been the basement. Serina squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath before heading down and pushing open the door at the bottom.

It was just a kitchen with a long wooden table running down the length of it. There were only two people in the room; Sirius and a pink-haired witch sat opposite each other at the far end of the table, each with a bowl in front of them. Sirius turned to the door just as she took her first step inside.

"Holy shit Ha-Serina," he exclaimed, jaw-dropping. "You clean up real nice. Not sure if a corset is what I would have chosen for a dining dress, though..."

"The woman in that portrait and Kreacher didn't give me much choice," Harry said, in his new voice, which he decided that if he must be a girl, he quite liked. After several flights of stair in his heeled shoes, he felt almost comfortable in them, especially on the flat floor of the kitchen, and he almost glided across the room to take a seat next to Sirius.

"This is her then?" The witch asked in a cheery tone...too cheery, for Serina.

A bowl of what appeared to be beef stew appeared in front of Serina as Sirius turned to reply to the witch. "Yes. This is Regulus' girl, Serina; my niece. She'll be staying here with me now."

Serina couldn't help the smile that crept up on her face at the admission that Sirius wanted her to live with him. Her Uncle Sirius. She didn't think that the novelty of Sirius actually being family would ever wear off.

"How was your nap, kiddo?"

"Great; what happened had me beat. I didn't realize it until I lay down." Serina answered after swallowing her bite. Whoever made the stew did a good job. "Restroom and shower, not so much..."

Sirius barked out a laugh and layed a hand on her shoulder. "And dear old mother is going to run you ragged with your pureblood lady training. Still, as much as I hate the pureblood way of life, it'll be good to help you break old habits."

"Uncle Sirius, she made me wear a corset just so I could eat a bowl of stew!" Serina whined. When you learned to control your breathing, it wasn't so bad when you were standing up, but sitting down in it felt impossible. She was sure every one of her ribs was cracked at this point.

"If it's any consolation, you look damn good it!" The other witch threw her two-pence in. "I'm Tonks!"

"Er - Serina. Nice to meet you."

"Nymphadora is my cousin Andromeda's daughter," Sirius offered with a cheeky smile.

"Don't call me Nymphadora!" The witch known as Tonks half-shouted, her hair turning bright red. Serina's eyed widened at the display, which Tonks caught. "I'm a metamorphmagus. I can change my appearance at will. And no I can't teach you; it's something you have to be born with."

"Right. Fine by me. Seems like I already have a lot to do, as it is."

Tonks abruptly stood, and stretched her arms over her head. "Well, I'm needed back at the Ministry. Catch you later!"

"Sirius...do I have to go to Hogwarts?" Serina asked. "I mean, nobody knows that I exist, so I could stay here. You could teach me?"

Sirius fixed Serina with a small smile and leaned back in his chair before answering. "That's not up to me, kiddo. That decision falls to Dumbledore. I'm sure he'll see it your way, though. Most witches and wizards don't have an ounce of common sense, but even some of them will catch on if Harry Potter disappears at the same time that Serina Black shows up."

"And if one person knows, then everybody in Wizarding Britain will know."

There was a comfortable silence for a few minutes, with both absorbed in their own thoughts. Serina really didn't want to go back to Hogwarts; considering Harry's track record there, nobody could really blame her. She also didn't want to have to see her old friends. Ron would probably just drool over her new admittedly good looking body, and Hermione would have her pegged as Harry in ten minutes.

"We'll go shopping sometime next week for your 'birthday'," Sirius broke the silence. "We'll probably have to bring Tonks, too. I don't know about you, but I can't shop for the fairer sex."

Serina snorted in a very unladylike display of amusement. "I may technically be a girl now, but even I don't look forward to that."

Sirius barked out a laugh, in that way that just made you want to smile and rose to his feet. "Well, since we're gonna be living here together, we might as well get this house looking like a house."

Any other time if somebody mentioned cleaning, she probably would have groaned in disappointment, but the prospect of doing something with Sirius had her smiling and agreeing. Standing with Sirius, they made their way to the third floor to begin their mission.

All in all, it turned out to be a great day and easily Serina's best birthday. Conversation never once turned to serious or darker topics, and often the silence was only broken by Sirius giving her an abridged history lesson on the Blacks, supported by quips about his least favorite family members. One particularly memorable moment was when Sirius brought up his mother's obsession with pureblood propaganda, going so far as to suggest her monthlys were as pure as pure gets. Serina spent the next five minutes in joyful laughter as Kreacher popped into the room with the portrait of Walburga and gave Sirius a dressing down for being an ungrateful son and 'being crass in the presence of a lady'. Needless to say, Sirius kept away from bringing up his mother again.

At one point, she thought she heard Sirius whispering across from the bedroom that they were almost finished cleaning up. "Sorry, what?"

Sirius looked up at her in confusion. "What?"

"I heard you whispering; did you need something?" Serina asked, throwing a moldy book in the garbage bin that they'd brought with them.

"I didn't say anything, kiddo. Are you okay?"

Straining her ears, she could just barely make out the unintelligible whispering but looking at Sirius she could see that he was being honest. His mouth was sealed. "I can still hear it. It sounds familiar, but I can't make out what it's saying."

Slowly, the new witch made her way across the room to a small dressing table sitting under a window across from the door. She pointed at the top drawer. "Whatever it is, it's in here. I swear I've heard that voice before!"

Sirius joined him in front of the dresser and pulled the top drawer open. There was nothing inside of it, except for a small golden locket with an 'S' printed on the lid. "Don't touch it! Knowing this family, it dark. It'll probably possess you if you touch it-"

"The diary!" Serina exclaimed in fear. "Sirius, you need to get Dumbledore. The voice, I know why I recognize it! It's Tom Riddle's voice. If this is anything like the Diary, it WILL posses you."

Sirius recoiled at the admission. He grabbed a washcloth from his pocket and wrapped it around the locket before pocketing it and turning to his former godson, now niece. "I'll go floo Albus right away; in the meantime, don't touch anything. It's getting late anyway, so I suggest we call it a day. The room you were in earlier is all yours."

With that, Sirius herded her out of the room and pulled the door shut behind them before brushing past her and hurrying down the dark stairs. A minute later found Serina in her room, seriously debating whether to just drop down on the bed and pass out or to stay awake long enough to shower first. Her mind was made up when she realized that the musty smell of the house clung to her clothes and skin, her long hair was dulled by the amount of dust that had settled in it, and her skin was filthy from whatever was in the room she had been working on.

She made her way through the door on the wall to the right of the entrance to her room and called Kreacher to unlace the uncomfortable corset that was built into the dress. She took several deep breaths, reveling in the feeling of not being crushed before she grabbed the hem of her skirt and lifted it over her head. She winced as her was pulled from being tangled up in the laces on the back of the dress. Next, she kicked off her heels and pulled her bra over her head without even bothering with the strap. Too exhausted to even be embarrassed, she finally stepped out of her knickers and jumped in the shower.

The cold floor of the tub served to keep her awake long enough for her to quickly lather her body and soap her hair, which she surprised even herself with how much time she spent on her hair. When she was she slipped on a pair of purple knickers that had been set out for her and collapsed on her bed, asleep before her head even hit the pillow.