"I have something floating around in my head. Something horrible. I'm going to try to type it out now, I hope it does some good." Those were the words of the author before she started. She did type it out, and it turned from a quick parody into something a bit bigger. It could end here, or it could go on. It hasn't decided yet.

I'm sure you've seen them. Those stories where Hermione is suddenly someone completely different, usually having embraced the debauchery of a badly-written Mary Sue (if it's well written does it still count as a Mary sue?). Usually an American Cousin gets involved somewhere. I'm sure you've seen them, I don't think you would have clicked the link here if you hadn't. This is a bit of what I think Hermione would be like if placed in this situation. Of course, I could be terribly wrong. If anyone who's written one of these things is reading this then I hope you're not terribly insulted. I can only suggest that you try laughing at it, it may help. As a disclaimer: I don't own Hermione, or any of the other characters or places. I'm not even sure I own the cousin, though I'm a lot less distressed by that fact.

And now, On with the show.


Hermione Granger looked like a prostitute. And not the expensive kind either.

She hobbled through the barrier of 9 and ¾'s and towards her friend on five inch heels. She made it there just in time to collapse into the arms of the saviour of the wizarding world.

Harry Potter spent several confused seconds trying to identify the girl in his arms before she turned her face to him.

"Harry" she said "it's awful! The worst thing has happened."

"Umm" said Harry eloquently to the eerily familiar girl.

She righted herself so that she could stand to face him, only lightly leaning her palm on his shoulder for support.

"Harry, you've got to listen to me. My cousin, my American cousin, she's come. She – she's done things to me. Horrible Things! Look at me!" the girl gestured to her more than unfortunate outfit, specifically the writing on the far too small top. "I've never even wanted to be a Porn-Star!" She exclaimed breathing in a way that only caused the writing to become more accentuated.

"Hermione?" came from a very shocked redhead who had been attempting to ignore the not so uncommon anymore occurrence of a strangely underdressed woman flinging herself in the direction of his best friend.

"Ron! Please, you've got to help me."

"I- you- you- dressed- I-" At this point the apparently unconnected words faded off into gurgling.

"Yes! I said! She dressed me!"

"Dressed you?" said Harry who's mind was still coming to grips with the fact that this was indeed Hermione and she was indeed wearing a shirt that had Porn-Star written on it. He hadn't yet dared to look any lower.

"Yes! Well, no. I'm actually wearing my usual clothes but she's transfigured them and I don't know the spell to change them back!" Her voice raised perilously close to the tone that Harry recognized came just before the times he had seen her cry.

Ron took this moment to gasp in some much needed oxygen as he hadn't actually inhaled since he had discovered who this scantily clad female was. This was an incongruous sound to his previous gurgling and Hermione quickly assumed that it had been made because she'd admitted to not knowing something.

She took a second to glare at him, an act which lost much of its effectiveness because of what being out of breath was doing to the words Porn-Star across her chest. Which was what the young man was focusing on at the moment.

"Well I've never really spent time looking for spells to turn myself into a tart have I? So I really wouldn't know the counter spells, would I?"

She turned back to Harry, almost losing her balance again. "We were in the lavatory, just us, and she assaulted me and turned me into, into this! And then she ran out on me!"

The look on her face changed from panic to something would have made her look scary even without make-up that would have only seemed 'just the right amount' to someone with very, very bad eyelid acne. "I hear they don't have repercussions for underage magic in America. I hope she's having a nasty surprise." She said this in a tone that had only ever been heard previously in reference to Rita Skeeter and in the subconscious sounded more like "I hope she gets her wand broken and is deported back to America. In the baggage compartment. Without oxygen."

It was at this moment that the red-headed younger sibling of the red-headed friend of the saviour of the wizarding world approached, attracted by the loud noises coming from the center of what was now a large circle formed around three people. The onlookers were the sort who wanted to watch the action but didn't want to get too close in-case something explosive happened.

Ginny Weasley used what were referred to lovingly around the burrow as 'the elbows of doom' (and, of course, her legs and feet) to make her way to the inner circle.

She recognized her brother and Harry and, after a few moments and the kind of shock that would cause deep-seated problems later in life, Hermione.

She made her way to the trio, a dazed look on her face and poked Hermione in her barely covered, Daisy Duke shorted hips.

Just to make sure she was real.

Hermione was very solid, and, as Ginny was too, noticed this invasion of personal space.

The older girl turned to the younger and, in a very unusual way of greeting someone one hasn't seen all summer said "Can you change me back?"

The red-head thought about this for a moment before replying "I can do the clothes"

"Well please do! Before anyone else sees me like this." Said Hermione who actually hadn't noticed the growing ring of onlookers and was starting to calm down, if just slightly.

Ginny wasn't perfectly sure if the 'no-magic-for-summer' law ended once one was on the platform or if one actually had to get on the train for school before one could cast, but decided from the look that Hermione had given her for just this thought's pause that she would rather risk the wrath of the Ministry than of her friend.

Ginny, without much ado, performed the spell and the still straight haired and horribly face-painted Hermione hugged her arms around her now much more adequately covered body before hugging Ginny and then herself again.

"Thank you" She chanted "I will never again dismiss learning a spell, no matter how inconsequential it may seem."

Several people in the crowd wondered if the girl had gone mad, and accepted that, for who she was, and what had just happened to her, she well may have.

It never dawned on Ron that while Hermione 'Had never gone looking for spells to turn herself into a tart and so wouldn't know the counter-spells' his sister apparently had.

He did however notice that Hermione still had the makeup of a leper trying to disguise something and that she still smelt like she had been dropped in a vat of scent that was to the smell of real strawberries what marshmallow-banana's are to the taste of real ones.

He also noticed that her hair was straight and far more blonde than it had been last time he'd seen her.

"Your face is still… Glehh" he said, using both sound and body language to get his message across.

Hermione could feel the make-up caked on her skin as well as the pressure on the roots of her hair that was keeping it straight.

She scraped her nails lightly against her face but they were impeded from reaching skin and came away without any foundation to show for her efforts.

"It won't wash off, I tried in the loo" she said, still distressed but much happier now that she was properly clothed.

"I bet Lavender could get it off" Ginny piped up helpfully.

"I bet I could, lemme try" said a voice and Hermione looked around, for the first time noticing the ring of onlookers of a more than five person radius. She recognized more people than was good for her, many of whom were not on good terms with her, and more than a few of whom were adults. The heat of embarrassment was radiating from her face and she found herself more than a little pleased at the fact that the makeup denied the onlookers a view of her real blush.

"Err" She said "Lets find a train car and do it in there"

Along with several soft giggles from a second year who had grossly and purposefully misinterpreted her statement, the ring dispersed and they headed for the train.

Hermione tried to ignore the not so quiet gossiping that had broken out as they passed.

---xx0oo0lOvOl0oo0xx---

The window on this car was thankfully not stuck closed and so was opened to allow the scent that wanted to be a strawberry but had failed horribly to escape. Hermione was just glad that it was no longer coming from her.

Lavender had managed to remove the make-up and the smell but only after extorting the promise that the once again characteristically haired Hermione would someday let Lavender do her up. This was agreed upon readily enough for, while not the same as Hermione's, Lavender's fashion sense was much better than that of The American Cousin's.

"So" said Harry "This American Cousin of yours, where is she?"

The questioned girl turned to him, a hunted look in her eyes. "Oh, she's here. I know it. She's on this train, coming to Hogwarts. She's calling herself a 'Transfer'. Ha! A transfer is an exchange! I know this! No-one, no-one in Hogwarts has gone over there, because if she was a transfer then she would have stayed with them wouldn't she? But she's stayed with me! With my family…" She trailed off.

"My family…" she said again slowly "She's… my cousin"

Everyone in the car suddenly felt awkward and not quite in the 'Hermione's finally flipped. Well, we always kinda expected it would happen. She worked herself far too hard I'll tell you.' way.

Trevor was ill.

The moment passed with a simple "scourgify" from Hermione. Neville beamed at her. In a metaphorical way.

"No, she's coming" said Hermione, even though no one had said she wasn't "She's just waiting to make an entrance."

The train seemed to slow down, just a little.