A/N – I know this has been a while coming, I spend last weekend camping. I know this is short, but hopefully I'll get the next chapter up soon. I know nothing of the British nightclub scene, I made up Mystique, and am hoping most things are the same as in Canada. The gin and tonic part is based on a real incident I had at a bar. Thank you for the reviews/reads! I hope you are enjoying the story so far.

Hermione was three quarters of her way through her fourth gin and tonic, and was starting to regret her hasty decision to come out. She was standing at the back bar of Mystique, one of the nicest clubs in London, and the only guys who had approached her had been either extremely drunk or not exactly attractive. She wasn't about to try and rebound from Ron with an ugly guy, seeing as he had gone for a really hot girl. She looked around the crowded club, scoping out the crowd, and couldn't even see any likely prospects.

She drained her drink, and turned back to the bar with a sigh. Muggle alcohol wasn't nearly as potent as wizard stuff, but it certainly tasted better than that awful firewhisky. The bartender was at the other end of the bar and she went to signal him for another drink, but felt a presence by her side. She looked sideways, then up to the man who had appeared beside her at the packed bar. She hadn't noticed him in her sweep – he was easily the most attractive guy there. Brown, slightly messy hair, deep tan, pretty tall. His face was slightly pointy, but it didn't detract from his attractiveness. He looked down at her, and she felt a jolt of recognition when his cool grey eyes met hers, but couldn't quite place him. His brow creased in apparent confusion as he looked down at her, then shook his head and looked away quickly to signal the bartender.

"Want a drink?" Hermione jumped. She really wasn't expecting him to talk to her, he had seemed to dismiss her with the first glance. His voice seemed familiar as well, but the four drinks had gone to her head, and she really couldn't place it, or even be bothered trying. He was cute, he was buying her a drink, that's all that mattered.

"Uh, sure. Gin and tonic," she replied, raising her voice to be heard over the music. He turned to look at her, with eyebrows raised.

"Seriously? I've never met a girl who drinks those."

"I like them."

"Well, maybe you should branch out a bit," and without consulting Hermione, ordered two 'liquid cocaine' shots, whatever those were. She was slightly annoyed that he had mocked and then ignored her request, but as she was about to voice her objection, the drinks arrived.

Hermione stared in shock at the shots that were in front of her. They were brown with little gold flecks in them, and looked entirely unappetizing.

"Going to chicken out?" the guy asked, taking a hold of his glass and raising his eyebrows at her.

"Never," she replied, galvanized by his rudeness, and reached for her glass, picked it up and downed the shot. It actually didn't taste that bad, and the cinnamon aftertaste was actually pleasant. When she looked down, another pair of shots had appeared, and he was looking at her expectantly.

"Fine," she heard herself say, and took the next shot.

"Impressive," the guy replied (why didn't she know his name again?), and smiled at her. His smile gave her a chill down her spine. He wasn't incredibly attractive, but there was something almost mesmerizing about his eyes. "What's your name?"

"Her… Harriet. And you?" Hermione wasn't sure why she had lied about her name – it probably had something to do with the new identity she had created for the night. And because her real name was impossible to get people to pronounce on first try.

"I'm Drew," he replied, and caught her arm. "Want to dance?"

"Let me have another drink first," the newly christened Harriet did something that Hermione would never have done – ordered another shot of liquid cocaine, and went off to dance with a guy she had never met before.

Three hours later, Hermione was in the bathroom. She had left Drew outside, because she had really had to use the toilet, but was now distracted by the sight of her new, blonde, green-clad self in the massive mirrors, and was having difficulty keeping herself upright. Drew had continued to buy her drinks, and she was wearing those stupid heels that she had transfigured from her boring flats earlier in the evening. Hermione had no idea if there was a spell to make her feet stop hurting, and even if she did, she had to remember she was in a muggle bar, dancing with an attractive muggle boy who she was sure only wasn't kissing her because of the protection spells she had put on herself, that only allowed guys to dance with her. Giggling, she flipped her new hair. This had been such a good idea. She was having more fun tonight than she had in all the stupid months of dating Ron. He had always looked on her as more of a package deal, and never really lusted after just what she looked like, and she was sick of it. She liked this attention, and Drew was much more good-looking than that stupid Parvati. And she knew he really was attracted to her – the dancing had revealed that much. And she wanted him, that was for sure.

She scurried into a stall, and made a decision that Hermione would never have made – but this new girl, this Harriet, was impulsive. It was liberating. She took out her wand, and whispered the words to remove her protection spells.