1secretspells311: Well, I'm glad you think it's okay.

Lexie the Dreamer: I'm happy not to disappoint you. I hope you like this chapter!

Natasha: I'm sorry your first kiss sucked as much as mine (and Hermione's.) I hope you like the rest of the story.

volcomhottie05: Happy you like it!

Dark.And.Light.Intertwined: There was no review button for chapter 7? That's odd. Well glad you liked it.

Ebony-Amanda-brittany44: Hope this is soon enough.

frozenroses: I'm glad you liked it so much. And yeah I know what you mean about laughing while everyone is asleep. It's like HA crap. I do that all the time when I'm reading something I find amusing. Lol.

sugar n spice 522: I hope you like this chapter too.

Disclaimer: Still not mine. Nothing has changed. At least not in the ownership department.

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I slide into my desk in Professor McGonagall's classroom, almost (but not quite) happy that classes have started so I can have other things to occupy my mind besides my normally disastrous behavior around the Sex God. Transfiguration is usually interesting and in all my other years at Hogwarts, it has managed to keep my attention pretty easily.

And then in comes the Psychopath, thundering like a moron, with The-Boy-Who-Couldn't-Possibly-Go-Anywhere-Alone trailing behind him. They're laughing and talking about something (probably Quidditch, judging by their exaggerated arm movements in a poor attempt to recreate "awesome" moves they've picked up without the aid of brooms. And I would also imagine that the only one who's really picked up any "awesome" moves is Harry, who happens to be more talented than Ron at Quidditch. So much more talented, in fact, that it's simply ridiculous.) The moment Ron sees me, however, the arm movements stop and the Ron-trying-to-be-stealth moves take over. You know, the moves where they pretend they're invisible and there's no possible way you could have noticed them walking right in front of you. Give me a break, Ron. Does he honestly think I'm going to bother him at all? I hate it when they pull shit like that-boys, I mean. They do one little (or in Ron's case, big) stupid thing and then they act like it's all you and you're going to harrass them the minute you see them, when in reality you're perfectly happy and would like nothing better than to avoid them. Anyway. Ron and Harry take seats across the room from me, closest to the door. Harry smiles at me slightly, and mouths, "Talk later," then goes back to his inordinately fascinating conversation with Ron, who keeps shooting glances he obviously thinks are stealthy in my direction.

I couldn't be happier when McGonagall walks into the room and tells everyone to shut the fuck up so she can take the goddamn roll. Well, not exactly like that, but you get the picture.

I fear not even Transfiguration is going to be able to keep my mind off other things this year. Crap. And I was so looking forward to getting my useless and so far fruitless quest to shag the Sex God out of my mind for a little while. Thinking of all the ways it's going to fail makes me slightly depressed.

And that fucking zit isn't getting any smaller, either. I can practically feel it growing on my face, like a balloon. Don't touch it. As tempting as it is to touch it to gauge the size, don't touch the little shit. Just...pay attention to the lesson. In a few hours, you'll be able to go back to your chambers and get your makeup and do some touch-ups in the privacy of your own bathroom, and everything will be okay. Just pay attention now. It'll be alright. Just one more class after this one.

It's useless. I can't even convince myself. I have no persuasion skills whatsoever. Thankfully I'm not relying on those to coax His Uber-Sexiness into bed. I'd be fucked.

Pay attention, asshole.

"Now, before we get to today's lesson, I would like to remind everyone that your NEWTs are coming up at the end of this year. I hope I do not need to stress the difficulty and importance of these tests. Therefore, I would advise all of you to pay attention in class. That includes you, Mr. Weasley. Considering your end of term grades from last year, I would say it is safe to assume that you are not at all prepared for these tests. You might want to stop talking to Potter over there; I'm sure your conversation can wait to be continued until after my class."

Ron looks up, his face immediately turning red. I have to stifle a very Draco-like snigger. Stupid prat. Probably carefully going over the details of what happened last night with Harry and trying desperately to figure out where things went wrong. If he asked me, I could definitely give him a clue.

"And now, on to today's lesson. Today we will be learning how to turn these scarves into thermal blankets. Although the spell is not difficult, it does take a lot of practice to actually get an adult-sized blanket. The spell word you are going to be using is blanketus (A/N: I apologize for my very uncreative spell words-I'll try to get better as I keep writing). The root of this word..."

At this point, parchment and quills are pulled out of bags, and heads are bowed low over the desks, dutifully writing down everything the professor says.

I must admit, this is one of the more practical transfigurations we've done yet. I mean seriously, who the fuck is going to give a shit if you can turn a candle into a turtle if you're on the street and dying? Nobody.

I wonder how big that stupid pimple on my face is by now. It certainly feels enormous. I'm sure by this point it's residing on half my cheek and is about to overtake my nose. Good God. How much longer is this class?

"...the wand movement is simple as well. Merely a flick, and a swish. Not to be confused with swish and flick, of course. If you swish and then flick, you will probably find yourself turned into a blanket."

A few students chuckle weakly as they realize this is McGonagall's effort at a joke. I don't even bother. I'm too busy worrying about the Himalayan mountain growing on my face.

"If there are no questions, I will allow everyone to come up to the front of the room and take a scarf from the box...then, you may go back to your desks and practice until the end of class."

I wander up to the scarf box with the rest of the class, grab one, and go back to my desk.

I'm absentmindedly practicing the wand movements before I say the incantation when, suddenly, my head is jerked backwards violently.

"Oops...um...Hermione...don't move...my wand is kind of, uh, stuck..."

Fuck. Neville Longbottom must be at the desk behind me. And from the feel of it, he's gotten his wand stuck in my hair.

Spectacular.

"Sorry, Herms. Just...hold still while I untangle it..." I comply with his request, even though I can feel his chubby little fingers tangling the wand up even more in my hair. A blind elephant could better untangle the damn thing.

"What's the problem, Longbottom?" McGonagall, always the first to notice a fuss, calls out.

"N-nothing, Professor," Neville stutters nervously. "I just got my wand stuck in Hermione's hai-there we go."

And Neville does the one thing I didn't want him to do.

He uses all of his strength to rip the wand out of my hair.

I use all of my strength not to curse and turn around and kill him.

I'm too busy tentatively reaching my hand back towards my ponytail, which has, to my dismay, turned into a giant war zone. I must look ridiculous.

One very long half an hour later, I finally get out of that class and rush to the girls' bathroom so I can look in the mirror and see what kind of casualty I look like.

The very fucked-up kind, that's for damn sure. My hair is a knotted, tangled mess that only a shower with some shampoo and conditioner can fix, and the pimple on my face seems to have grown by half and turned very red since the last time I looked.

And now I have to sit through double Herbology. Thank God it's not with the Slytherins-I would seriously risk my reputation and skip that class if it were. I glance at my watch. There's not enough time to run up to my chambers-by the time I got up there, I'd just have to turn around and run back out. I'll just have to go to Herbology as is, looking like I got attacked by some hair-eating, pimple-causing fungus.

This is turning out to be such a bad day. And knowing my luck, it's going to get a lot worse before it's over.

My little prophecy comes true the moment I walk out of the bathroom door. Draco Malfoy is lounging against the wall across the hallway, presumably already at his next class.

"What happened, Granger?" He asks lazily. "Did a book eat your hair?"

I have to decide between punching him in the nose or taking advantage of his current position against the wall.

Both not good. I'll have to go with a more neutral option.

"Shove it, Ferret," I respond, and hurry away as fast as possible before my crush-crazy brain takes over and does something I'll regret later. Just get to the greenhouses. The morning is almost over.

As I walk into Greenhouse 3, I can hear a few snickers and know that everyone is laughing about my hair. A few are probably having a good laugh about the zit, too.

And I have to sit through two periods of this?

What did I do, Lord, to offend you so?

Thankfully, I'm also very much just on time to this class, and Professor Sprout walks in before the comments can start flying.

"Settle down, settle down. I would assume your last teacher already gave you the speech about your NEWTs, so I'm not going to waste any time in repeating what he or she already said. We're just going to jump right into our lesson-we'll be working with the dragon vine for the first few weeks of term, folks. Now, can anyone tell me the magical properties of the dragon vine?"

A few hands are raised; mine, however is not one of them. I'm going to try and draw as little attention to myself as possible today.

I'm so wrapped up in my own little melodrama that I don't notice Harry has moved next to me until he starts whispering.

"Not having a good day, Herms?" Oh no shit, Sherlock, what gave that one away? Shut up, you bitch. He's just trying to be nice.

"I think this is one of the worst days of my life," I whisper back. "Did you see my hair? That idiot Neville got his wand stuck in it in Transfiguration."

"Yeah, I was there, that was awful." One good thing about Harry-he's pretty tactful. So even though he probably thought it was funny as all hell, he would never tell me.

"Granger! Potter! I apologize if my lecture is interrupting your conversation, but you need to know this for your NEWTs."

"Sorry, Professor," we both mumble, and the little chat is over.

"Now, today, we will be pairing up and carefully cutting out pieces of the dragon vine. Be sure to collect the blood that will drip out upon cutting the plant. Once you have collected three vials of blood, label them with your names. As soon as everyone is finished, you can have a 10 minute break. Then come back and we're going to begin studying the magical properties of the blood. Alright? Grab a partner, pruning shears, three vials, and get to work on a plant."

Thankfully, Harry is more than willing to be my partner. At least I'm not going to have to explain the state of my hair ten zillion times during class. I hate that, having to repeat an embarrassing story over and over again as everyone from the bum on the street to the pope asks you about it. That, somehow, always seems to happen to me.

We grab the required equipment and get to work on one of the dragon vines, not attempting to engage in conversation as we do so. This is probably the best course of action. Considering how my day is going so far, I might pruning shear my finger off if I don't pay attention.

Wait...that might not be a bad idea...I'd get to spend some time in the hospital wing...it's an easy out for this horrible day...

Oh shut up, you moronic masochist.

Finally, everyone has collected their three vials of dragon vine blood, and our ten-minute break is put into action. Harry follows me outside into the sunlight, and we plop down a few yards away from the greenhouse so we can talk in private.

"Herms, what's going on with you this year? I haven't seen you this out of it since...well, I've never seen you this out of it, actually," Harry says to me, worry crossing his face.

As I ponder how to best answer this question and remain one of Harry's friends, I look behind him and see Ron milling around by himself, looking quite lost.

I feel sorry for him.

Tonsil surgery.

Never mind. I don't feel sorry for him. Just looking at him gave me flashbacks. Yikes.

And now on to Harry's question. What to say? In the end, I decide to just be honest.

"To be perfectly honest with you, I don't really know what's going on with me. It's been a very odd past couple of weeks, what with the whole Ron...thing...and me being named Head Girl and having to move in with Se-Draco Malfoy..."

Hopefully he didn't catch that little slip of the tongue. Okay, maybe I'm not ready to be completely honest.

He's a guy. He didn't catch the tongue slip.

But he obviously doesn't believe that my reason could be that simple.

He gives me a Look.

I cave.

"Oh alright, and also, I'm so tired of people just seeing me as a walking brain. It's an exhausting image to live up to and also not entirely true. Don't you ever just get so TIRED of people seeing you the same way?"

Harry, of all people, should definitely understand where I'm coming from. I mean, come on, everywhere he goes, people have already defined him as The Hero Who Defeated Lord Voldemort. Seriously, and I think my little image is hard to live up to? At least the world isn't expecting me to save it.

"I get where you're coming from, Hermione," Harry responds, a very serious look on his face. "I really do. But the only person who can change the way people view you is...you. And I know that sounds stupid and cliche and like something your mother would tell you, but it's true."

He's right, I know he is. Just like Ginny is right about me taking her advice and maybe not blowing it with the Sex God this year.

But I don't know if I'm ready to change yet. Well, not true. I am ready to show people I'm not the Nerd Queen of the Universe, I just don't know HOW. That's the part that's really troubling me.

But my little troubled thoughts are interrupted by Professor Sprout calling everyone back to the greenhouse.

"Everyone in! Let's get back to work!"

Oh, fun and joy.

I never knew anyone could drop so many vials.

Neville happened to be at the work station next to me, and he dropped two vials with dragon vine blood, and they of course splashed all over me.

Lovely. Now, not only do I look like I've been in a war, I smell like I've spent some quality time in a garbage dump. Or maybe a swamp. Either way, the smell is not good.

I have about an hour to clean myself up. Fuck lunch, I think I've lost my appetite. It's off to my chambers for me. I'm going to have to take a shower now. I want to attract the Sex God when I smell like vanilla and strawberries or something, not when I smell like the Swamp Thing.

I make it up to my chambers without too many people seeing me. I was, after all, the first to bolt out of our class and most people are just heading out of their classroom and to the Great Hall to discuss what an awesome first day they've been having.

Actually, the ones to make the biggest deal out of my appearance aren't people at all.

Desdemona and Esmerelda have really big mouths.

I really want to punch both of them in the kidneys.

When I reach the wooden doors and gasp out the password, I guess the tone of my voice must attract some attention, because they each stop doing their equally useless tasks and look at me.

"What happened to you?" the one on the left (I can't remember which one that is) giggles at me.

"Just shut up and let me in, I gave the password," I growl. Even as they obligingly swing themselves forward, I can hear them gossiping excitedly.

"Did you see her clothes? She was covered in blood!"

"That wasn't the worst part, did you see her HAIR!"

I don't even live up to the appearance expectations of wooden door carvings. Excellent. If they made a Queer Eye for women, those guys would be all over me in a heartbeat.

I trudge into the living room and drop my satchel on the floor near the fireplace. I'm just dragging myself and my purse up the stairs to my room, quietly rejoicing in my solitude, when I hear a familiar drawling voice behind me.

"Quite the mess, aren't we, Granger?"

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!

"It's been a rough morning," I respond, hoping to end the conversation there. As much as I want to turn around so I can gape at him, something tells me giving him a full-frontal view would just entice more insults and this conversation would keep going. As it turns out, it really doesn't matter if I turn around or not, because the conversation continues anyway.

"I'll say," The Picture of Perfection replies. "I don't know if anyone has informed you of this, Granger, but if they haven't, someone should-you smell positively awful. What did you do, roll around in dog shit or something?"

Before I say this, I'm going to apologize right now. I'm sorry Neville, but you really brought this on yourself by being a bumbling idiot.

"Well, apparently this is the result of having Neville Longbottom working next to you all morning," I reply, immediately feeling guilty. Neville takes enough abuse from everyone as it is, and here I am talking shit behind his back. Lovely, Hermione.

Draco smirks at this, and opens his mouth to say something else, but I really need to take a shower and I'm not going to let him have control of this conversation any longer.

"Why are you up here, anyway?" I ask.

At that exact moment, Pansy Parkinson walks out of Draco's room, straightening her robes.

There you go. My answer.

I almost feel like crying. Or maybe just sticking my wand in her hair and messing it up.

I don't know how she does it, but she always manages to make me feel bad about my appearance. She's just one of those girls. You walk out of the house feeling like you truly look awesome and sexy today, and then you bump into people like her, and you automatically feel like you look like shit and why the fuck did you wear this today?

Before this can go any further, I'm just going to go take a shower now. I walk into my room and shut the door on both of them, locking it behind me before I head off to my bathroom.

I emerge from the shower about half an hour later, feeling refreshed. I no longer smell like the blood of a dragon vine, and I actually managed to untangle my hair. I also found my concealer, sitting right on the sink top where I left it. I dry my hair as quickly as possible, put on a clean uniform, and then get to work on hiding the Alp on my face.

Unfortunately, my concealer doesn't want to cooperate with me today. Instead, it applies itself perfectly around the monster, but refuses to adequately cover up the redness and/or the zit itself.

I am so destined to blow it this year with the Sex God.

Finally, I just give up. Today is not my day, obviously.

I find my schedule in my bag downstairs and look it over to see what classes I have to endure this afternoon before this horrible day is over. Charms, right after lunch and...

Potions, with the Slytherins. Yay. I can hardly contain my excitement.

At least it's only one period though. It could be worse and be double Potions with the Slytherins.

Because of the amount of homework teachers assign seventh-year students, the schedules of said students are shortened so there are fewer classes in a day, giving us time to do all that homework we need to do in order to achieve good marks on our NEWTs. Therefore, I will never have more than five classes in one day, compared to everyone else, who will have six. Although this sounds like a pretty good deal, the homework is enough to make you wish for six classes and to not be taking huge ugly tests at the end of the year.

Well, it's off to Charms for me, I guess.

Charms, thankfully, passes without incident. Maybe just the morning was bad, and the rest of the day will be alright.

Ron keeps looking at me oddly during the entire Charms class, but that's probably just because he's wondering why I wasn't at lunch so he could harrass me. Whatever.

I'm almost in a better mood and am actually having a civil conversation with Lavender Brown about her new boyfriend when I remember that my last class of the day is Potions.

With the Slytherins.

Good feeling's gone.

Not only will I have to put up with Ron (and that bumblefuck Neville), but I'll have to handle both of them in front of the Sex God. This is a combination made for disaster. My psycho ex, a moron, and Mr. Hot Stuff, all in the same room, and all taking up worry space in my head.

"Hermione, are you listening to me?" The insistent voice of Lavender cuts through my worries.

"Um...sorry...actually, Lavender, what would you do if you had your psycho ex and your new crush and they were both in the same room and you had to deal with both of them at the same time?"

Maybe she has some better ideas than I do about how to take care of all this.

"I'd pray for the ground to open up and swallow me whole," she laughs.

It was worth a shot.

By the time we reach the Potions classroom, my stomach has twisted itself into something resembling a wrung-out dishcloth. I don't even know why I'm getting so worried. It's not like Draco's actually interested in me or anything. I mean, get real, he already has the perfect girlfriend, and even if he didn't, it's not like it's hard for him to get girls or anything. And Harry seems to have kept Ron in check all day-Ron hasn't bothered me today. So my only real, legitimate worry is Neville, because I've already had several unpleasant encounters with him today. Maybe that and having to sit through Potions feeling physically and personality-inferior to Pansy Parkinson.

I begin to relax. Not nearly as much to have a meltdown about as I thought.

Professor Snape begins his class much the same way as Professor McGonagall, talking about the NEWTs and how important they are. Then, he gets on to the lesson.

"Today we are going to be constructing a very simple potion. Made correctly, it should only take about 15 minutes to be complete. Some of you may have heard of it. It's called Herodotia, named after the wizarding medical genius Herodotus. He created it several thousand years ago, and Healers continue to use it today. It is a multi-function potion, but its chief use is to cure all fevers instantly. If everyone will open your textbooks to page..."

God, Draco is so hot. Look at the way his face moves when he's interested in something someone is saying. Look at the way his fingers move when he opens his book...

Shit. Opens his book. Everyone's opening their books. I zoned out and I have no idea what page we're on or anything.

"Miss Granger, if you would kindly stop staring at Mr. Malfoy and pay attention to the lesson at hand. You need to know this for your NEWTs. And since you didn't raise your hand when I asked who had heard of this potion, it means you really have no idea what I'm talking about, for a change. Twenty points from Gryffindor for your inadequacy."

The Slytherins are roaring with laughter, and Pansy is giving me nasty little he's-mine looks from across the room, much akin to the looks several of my house-mates are shooting me for losing 20 points already.

Snape allows the Slytherins several more minutes of their side-splitting laughfest before mildly instructing them to settle down and continuing with his lesson.

Finally, we're allowed to get our cauldrons, collect the ingredients for the potion, and get to work.

And once again, I'm stuck near Neville, who has no Potions skills whatsoever and usually relies on me for help. If I only I were in a better mood with him today and willing to give him said help.

The Potion really isn't hard to make at all. It's just a few simple ingredients. Perhaps the most difficult part of all is the stirring of the brew once it's in the cauldron. Seven stirs to the right, eight to the left...

I'm nearly finished with my potion when I hear a loud, "Oops!" from behind me and something splashes into my cauldron. Steam angrily rises up, and when it clears, my potion is no longer the maroon it was before.

It's bright purple.

"Sorry, Hermione," Neville says, his round face looking worried as Snape, malevolent human bat, swoops down on us both.

"What's going on?"

"I...uh...I accidentally knocked a jar of bat wings into Hermione's potion, s-sir..." Neville stutters.

"Perhaps we should give you your own dungeon, Longbottom, so you won't endanger other students or their work," Snape drawls. "Ten points from Gryffindor. Continue working. Looks like you'll have to start again, Miss Granger."

By the time I get out of Snape's dungeon, I am humiliated, tired, and about 20 minutes behind everyone else.

I head straight for the library to start on my homework and get some of it out of the way before dinner. I'm so busy examining the list of work I have to do and trying to decide on what to start first that it takes me a few seconds to notice the sniggering as I enter the library.

Excellent. A whole table of Slytherins. The Sex God and his friends have obviously chosen to make homework and insulting me a group effort tonight.

"Better hide your face with a book, Draco, I think Granger's staring at you again," Blaise Zabini says, and Draco's posse cackles with laughter, like it's the funniest thing they ever heard.

I don't even know what to say, so I hurry away to my own corner and get started on my homework.

Ah yes. Once again burying myself in books because I'm socially inept. Great job, that's really showing them you're not a bookworm, Hermione.

By the time the dinner bell rings, I know exactly what I have to do, and who I have to talk to to do it.

"Ginny!" Luckily for me, she's passing by the library just as I'm leaving, and we walk down to the Great Hall together.

"You remember how you suggested giving me a makeover and all that shit?" I ask.

"Yeah," she replies. "Why? You want to do it?"

"Actually, I think I do."

I've had a shitty enough day that it's convinced me that I need to change. I am not enduring a whole year of this.

I'm going down swinging.

Well, I hope you liked it! It's one of my longer chapters. The story should start picking up from here. Read and review, please.

Carrie