Disclaimer: Me. No. Own. Harry. Potter. Rowling. Lucky. . Was that clear enough?

Author's Note: This chapter is a bit useless really. But I find it at least minutely amusing.

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The head girl and boy, surprisingly from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw respectively, had decided to throw a masquerade ball. Ginny had convinced Hermione to leave both the costume and make up to her, so Hermione was completely devoid of any notion of what she was going to arrive as.

They had been granted a Hogsmeade visit, and Hermione had decided to use her time well. She arrived at Salem's Salon earlier than the appointment she had made, but the bustling woman who ran the shop was not at all busy.

Hermione was gently forced into a hairdressing chair and a length of black cloth was draped over her lap. Hermione honestly didn't know what to do with her hair, but apparently Celina Salem did. Hermione watched as a wand was waved over her hair, a pair of magicked scissors snipping very close to her throat. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut as various potions were applied to her hair. It may have been the cosiness of the little salon, or the plush chair she was sitting on, nevertheless Hermione was asleep within seconds.

Being shaken awake to find yourself in an unknown place is quite frightening. Hermione had jumped a mile into the air before realising that she was being shaken awake by none other than Celina Salem, who had evidently finished styling Hermione's hair.

Hermione looked at herself in the mirror. She got the same happy feeling as when her teeth had shrunken down by Madam Pomfrey. Her hair was still curly, but in a tamed, elegant way. The only thing that was drastically different was the side-fringe she had acquired. Hermione was happy. She had not wanted anything too significant, just a tidying up of sorts.

After paying Celina Salem and thanking her profusely, Hermione made her way back to the Griffindor Common Room, where Ginny was ever-so-patiently waiting for Hermione to make an appearance.

Ginny was peeved when Hermione finally made it to the Dormitory, but approved the simplicity of Hermione's hair.

"You'll look great in what I've gotten you," said Ginny. "But first, sit so I can do your make-up."

Hermione obligingly sat, but only after reminding Ginny that they were invited to a masquerade ball and therefore they had to be going incognito, thus the point of a mask. Even after listening to Hermione's incredibly logical argument, Ginny just told Hermione, quite bluntly, to kindly shut up.

Hermione winced at the amount of lotions and make-up kits spread out before her. She had also argued, again quite logically, that make-up could be applied quite easily by wand, but Ginny wouldn't take anything less than success. And therefore, Hermione had to spend around about two hours alone with make-up.

Ginny smiled as she finished Hermione's makeup, but she didn't let Hermione look at herself in the mirror just yet. Ginny brought out a dress.

It was floaty, semi-transparent, worn with a purple shift inside. Hermione shrugged the dress on and watched as Ginny zipped it up. It was baggy, and looked like a pile of semi-transparent sheets had been thrown over her head, until of course Ginny started fitting it properly. With several flicks of her wand, Ginny had the dress moulded to Hermione's perfect physique, flaring slightly out just below her hips, ending in varying lengths. The strapless dress was sprinkled with a small amount of silver glitter, and Ginny brought out the mask. It was also semi-transparent, but by the work of many a wizard with sufficient talent, Fred and George, it did not allow people to recognise her.

Hermione turned and looked in the mirror. She gasped, her hand clamped over her mouth. The dress was beautiful, and Ginny had done a wonderful job with her make-up. Her hair was exactly how Celina Salem had styled it, except there was a wrought silver tiara perched upon her head. She could see herself exactly how she was, but the way Ginny's eyes slid straight over her face showed that she wouldn't be recognised.

"It's the same spell they use on the Leaky Cauldron. Fred and George tweaked it a little so that even wizards wouldn't know who you are, but they still will be able to see your make-up. Confusing isn't it?"

Ginny's eyes were directed at an empty spot just above Hermione's head.

Hermione smiled and turned once again to the mirror. She attached a pair of very real looking wings to her back. She felt the muscles along her back contract and relax as she made her wings flutter.

Ginny smiled, but it faltered as Hermione turned around, a very wicked expression on her face.

"My turn," Hermione said, as she lightly shoved Ginny into a chair and began applying her make-up.

  

Draco regarded himself in the mirror. He was wearing a green dress shirt over tight black pants. A long black overcoat was then slipped into, only after the adornment of a black belt with its silver buckle in the shape of a coiled dragon. He donned his mask, green and silver, cut specifically to show his eyes and a lot of his face, but still demanded credit because not even Blaise could recognise him until a minute of intense staring.

As Blaise began to throw on his outfit, Draco fastened a very-real sword to his belt. He placed a silver crown over his head, completing his kingly masquerade.

Blaise turned around as he finished. He was to come as a knight, but had not dressed up in any armour. In fact, he wore an outfit similar to Draco, minus the crown, plus a silver mask. He was also wearing a silver shirt, not green, and his belt buckle was of a snake, not a dragon.

The Prince and The Knight made their way down to the Great Hall. Their immaturity and the fact that they were near-average teenage boys took hold of them, and they began childishly rating the girls surrounding them in the corridors they were passing.

Draco and Blaise were admitted to the front of the line outside the doors of the Great Hall, just before the doors swung open to reveal a very changed hall. It was all black, ceiling still enchanted. Candles floated just out of reach almost everywhere, and the air seemed to glitter. The Heads had done a great job.

Draco swept into the hall, and because no-one could recognise him, he hardly got his revering treatment as per usual. He was somehow unnerved by it, as if his degradation to status 'normal' was something unthinkable. With that thought, Draco pulled off his mask.

It's not like people weren't going to recognise me eventually, he thought to himself.

Draco smirked as the people around him took one look at him and stepped backwards, allowing him and Blaise a free path to the 'Slytherin' corner of the Great Hall. Someone dressed in a horrible pink dress squealed his name and began running to him. Blaise shook with uncontrolled laughter at the scowl of disgust on Draco's face, as Pansy Parkinson, predictably dressed as a fluorescent pink fairy princess, came galloping towards them.

I think I feel the ground shaking, he mused to himself. He allowed Pansy to wrap her vine-like arms around him for less than a second, then unwound her arms brusquely. Pansy's hurt face was almost immediately replaced by fervent adoration. Draco made his way to a couch, a bottle-green with silver cushions, and with one glare emptied it of all its occupants. He lounged on the chair, inviting only Blaise to sit with him. After an amusing conversation that involved him threatening a first year Griffindor, Draco let his eyes wander around the room. No-one caught his eye, except for an exceptionally pretty Ravenclaw girl.

The pretty ones just had to be in other houses, Draco fumed. He was getting quite bored, examining the lacy ending of the cushion when the whole room hushed. He looked up just in time to see a beautiful girl gliding into the room. Something about her invoked recognition, but he couldn't quite put a finger on it. Her dress was like a spider's web, glistening and baby-fine. Her silver heels, not so high actually, set off her splendidly shaped legs.

His eyes travelled appreciatively over her body, lingering at her chest and trim waist. He was amazed at the level of Transfiguration that the girl would have had to pass before she learnt to make those beautiful wings. He appreciated smart girls.

Draco shook his head as he felt himself blushing. That wasn't natural. Malfoys did not blush. But he desperately wanted to find out who she was, and was fretting about it until he realised that he was a wizard. With a flick of his wand, he made himself immune to the charms placed upon her mask. He recoiled as he realised he had been admiring none other than Granger.

Of course, he thought, only Hermione would have been able to do that.

His eyes widened as he thought of her as 'Hermione', and sat in a daze of complete confusion. Blaise had to repeatedly yell his name before he came back to his senses. He had called Granger 'Hermione'. And because of that, he was traumatized.

What the hell is wrong with me?!

"So, mate, who d'you think the chick is?"

Draco looked up to see Blaise looking at Granger, obviously not knowing who she was. Blaise's eyes looked like they were undressing her. Draco felt a tinge of annoyance, but reprimanded himself for it seconds later.

"That there? The Mudblood," Draco grinned as he watched Blaise's hungry expression turn into one of complete disgust.

Draco watched Hermione was asked to dance over and over again. She eventually had the nerve to decline a poor Hufflepuff boy and sat down at the Griffindor couches. She was immediately surrounded by throngs of admirers. Draco sneered. He had the 'throngs of admirers' treatment every second of his life. Granger was just on a one-off. She'd never get that treatment again. Except for maybe Weasley.

He watched as she shied away from the people looming over her, her breasts pushing up against the fabric of her dress. He could clearly see the outline of her bra, and when he let his eyes linger downwards, the firm line of her underwear along her hips. He tensed. He, Draco Malfoy, was not about to get… excited… over a Mudblood. He crossed his legs, trying to hide the growing bulge. He felt disgusted at himself. But then again, as he looked around nervously, he could see many boys were having his same problem. He smirked, but that was wiped off his face when Hermione looked up to catch his eye.

Her eyes were a tawny brown.

Fitting colour for a lioness, he thought, but reprimanded himself for that thought as well. His brain told him to hate her, but his body was retaliating. Every part of him seemed to gain temperature, one part, much to his embarrassment, gained size. Hermione's eyes broke away from his and glanced down to his crotch area. Her cheeks reddened considerably, and she immediately looked away, her mouth forming a comical 'o'.

He was going to use this against her. But first, something to… calm him down.

Oh, look everyone, he thought to himself, wrenching his eyes away from Hermione, it's Pansy!

He lost size almost immediately.

  

Author's Note:

I'm not entirely sure I want a review... Oh, and if you want me to continue with the ball in the next chapter, give me some ideas. If you dont, give me some ideas anyway.