A/N: *denotes dialogue taken directly from the movie. "Italics" are how I'll designate when the characters are singing - this is a musical after all! I hope you enjoy this Magical version of High School Musical!

Snow is swirling outside the ski resort as I sit inside by the fire and read. I'm in my favorite comfy armchair, with a stack of books on the table beside me. I've charmed them, so they look like ordinary books that don't have peculiar titles and pictures on the covers. The last thing I need is to draw more attention to myself. A teenager choosing the solace of a soft-lit room, with the crackling fire juxtaposed to the soft jazz music playing over the speakers and the stately view of the snow-covered mountains beyond the picture windows is not a sight you see every day.

The spacious lounge is underutilized by guests during the day, making it a quiet place for me to concentrate, and I don't realize how late it's become until I hear conversations and foot traffic pick up as other guests pass through to the bar on the far side of the room.

"Hermione, dear, it's our last evening on holiday. I think it's time to put the books away." My father sits on the edge of the coffee table in front of me.

"I'm fine here," I assure him, aware that they've made dinner plans before intending to join the New Year's Eve party in the adult club on the property later on.

I've already planned my evening around the knowledge that my parents are looking forward to a date night. I'm about to explain this to them when I hear Mum tut from behind as she moves to stand next to Dad with crossed arms. They're both dressed in their semi-formal wear, ready for a night of celebration.

"Hermione, we've been understanding this whole time. I know this isn't easy, switching schools again, but you will be fine. No more reading. Go back to the room, get cleaned up and put on your maroon dress. You're going to the teen party tonight to ring in the new year."

"But Mum—"

"No buts. We'll be checking on you after dinner. You can order room service or wait until the party to eat, but please, go and have fun. Be a teenager!"

There's a hint of exasperation in Mum's tone, and I can't help but feel the slightest bit of guilt. I relent, not wanting to cause my parents any grief. This isn't any easier on them than it is for me. A few hours with kids my age won't kill me, even if they aren't exactly like me.

Gathering the pile of books beside me, I place them in my bag and stand up. "Alright, but you don't have to check on me. I'll go to the party."

They don't need to know I plan to bring a book with me.

I hug and kiss them both before wishing them a wonderful evening. My parents mean well, and that's what I remind myself as I head back to our suite. My thoughts wander to the changes I will have to face once we head back to France and finish packing up the house. We're moving again, for the fourth time in five and a half years, and sometimes I think it's not a coincidence.

The first eleven years of my life were spent in England, where I attended primary school and was somewhat of an outcast. My parents always told me to embrace my uniqueness, but that's easier said than done when you don't have any friends. On my eleventh birthday, I found out why I was so 'different'. I was a witch, and magic was real. A professor from a school in Scotland came to visit us to explain the circumstances, which threw my parents for a loop.

At the time, Mum had started her research on dental practices around the world, and there was talk of us moving to the States so she could pursue her interests and share her findings by speaking at various conferences around the country. The professor who visited us assured my parents that I'd be able to attend the magical school closest to where we lived. So, when we moved to New York six months later, I was enrolled at Ilvermorny for the first two years of my magical education.

After my first year at Ilvermorny, my parents made it more apparent that they weren't keen on me studying magic, and, even now, they're still giving me subtle hints about attending university upon the completion of my magical education. I've always tried to give my parents the benefit of the doubt because they're No-Majs, or Muggles, as the English call them. Because I tried to see the good in them, I was surprised when we moved to Honduras just before the start of my third year. I spent the next two years at Castelobruxo before moving again to France ahead of my fifth year.

By the time that move came around, I couldn't help but feel as though they were doing this to frustrate me with the differences in my magical education on purpose. I would often write them while at Castelobruxo, detailing every opposing view the school had from Ilvermorny, and how the classes varied so much from the ones I'd taken in the States. Once I realized this was probably the fuel they needed to aid their efforts in getting me to choose the No-Maj lifestyle, I became tight-lipped about my experiences at Beauxbatons since I started there last year.

Now, Mum's life's work has given her the opportunity to bring us back to England. I'll finally get to attend Hogwarts, where I should have started six years ago. When I wrote to Professor McGonagall, she was surprised to hear from me. She confirmed that it's unheard of to welcome a new student to the school mid-year, but they would make an exception since my transcripts from the other three schools had gone through.

Mum and Dad have promised that we'll be able to stay in England for the remainder of my schooling, and I hope they're telling the truth. Every time I'd start to make new friends at any of the other schools, I'd be torn away. The whole thing was frustrating, and for so long, I've forced myself to believe it's better this way because I had no other choice.

I love learning and reading, and have a knack for memorizing and retaining every possible bit of knowledge. Most call me smart, but I work hard for everything I earn. My experiences were the most normal at Ilvermorny, until my classmates struck my eagerness for learning as cockiness, and then I was called a teacher's pet. Unfortunately, this mindset had a tendency to follow me to Castelobruxo and Beauxbatons, too. I close my eyes and pray that things will finally be different at Hogwarts. England has always been my home, and it's ironic that the final leg of my education will be at the school where I should have started to begin with.

I eat the meal that's delivered to the room and then get cleaned up and dressed for this so-called 'teen party'. Rummaging through my bag, I choose the sixth year Charms text, assuming that will be the easiest to focus on amidst a rowdy bunch of kids my age. Deciding I've stalled long enough, I make sure I have my key card on me as I make my way to the party; my wand is also hidden, strapped to my leg under my dress, just in case. I take my time, wandering through the halls as I take in the bustle of the various events happening throughout the resort, until I finally find the teen party.

The event space is decked out in streamers and banners that are plastered with 'HAPPY NEW YEAR!' and 'HERE'S TO 1997' throughout the room. There's a bar with various drink options, a snack table on one side of the room, and an area with a multitude of arcade games on the opposite, which happens to be directly ahead of me. A smattering of chairs and tables are to my immediate right, and a small stage is set up on the opposite side of the seating. A dance floor separates each of these designated areas in the center of the room.

Colorful circles dress the room in their rotating light, and I look up to find various disco balls placed on the ceiling around the room. Two TVs are also mounted from above and face the stage, where two kids are singing karaoke. I decide to keep to myself and choose one of the chairs at the abandoned tables near the dance floor. Checking my watch, I bite back a sigh. There are still two hours to midnight, and it seems that I've got a long night ahead of me.

I settle into my reading for a while, with the occasional glance to see what the other attendees are engaging in. There is a slew of people on the dance floor, moving to some rendition of Wannabe by the Spice Girls by five horribly tone-deaf girls who are shouting the lyrics more than they are singing. A group of boys are partaking in some air hockey tournament, and I can hear shouts every now and then that jolt me out of my focus.

At some point, the horrendous song ends, and I see the girls disperse from the stage. I bask in the momentary quiet as the emcee is looking for someone else to take their place. Taking advantage of the lull, I focus on the practice behind non-verbal spells. This endeavor doesn't last long as all of a sudden, there's a bright light shining in my face. I squint and look up to see the shadow of the emcee waving me up to the stage.

"We've found our next two karaoke participants! Come on up, don't be shy!"

Oh, no, no, no. This cannot be happening.

I shake my head, but the light remains trained on me. There's no way I can do this. I don't sing in public, and this random guy can't make me. I'm running through ways of how to sneak out to avoid utter humiliation when a hand reaches out and pulls me out of my seat. I manage to shut my book and leave it on the table as I'm dragged to the stage.

Someone else leads a tall, lanky, redhead to the stage across from where I'm standing, and we are both mirroring each other with our slumped shoulders and awkward, uncomfortable glances. I try not to stare, but I have a hard time tearing my eyes away from his fit physique and kind face. My face flushes as my heart beats faster in my chest.

He's attractive, and I'm...plain old Hermione.

Well, at least he seems uncomfortable too. Maybe we can both refuse to sing the song together. I try to catch his eye, even though it's ridiculous to think silent communication would ever work with a stranger. The emcee appears between us, placing his hands on our shoulders as he says,

"Someday, you guys might thank me for this...or not."*

He backs away, and the introduction to the song starts. I've heard it a few times before, but there's no way I could possibly sing it. I fold my arms across my chest, attempting to make myself as small as possible as the music continues on. My head is down to avoid looking out at the other teens who are watching us with judgemental eyes, wondering what we're going to do.

This is mental. I'm not doing this, they can't make me. I turn, about to step off the stage, when a sound surprises me.

"Livin' in my own world, didn't understand."

Oh my god, he's actually singing! And he's good! I pause and listen some more. My body moves back to the microphone as he continues, and I realize that if he took a shot at this, that I can too.

"That anything can happen when you take a chance."

I know that it's my turn now, so I take a deep breath and look up at the screen even though I already know the words.

"I never believed in what I couldn't see. I never opened my heart [oh] to all the possibilities, ooh."

I'm spurred on by his interjection and gain more confidence as the music builds to the pre-chorus. I chance a look in the redhead's direction, and our eyes lock. His are a brilliant blue that cut deep to my heart as we share a shy smile in the brief transition of the music.

"I know that something has changed. Never felt this way, and right here tonight this could be the start of something new. It feels so right to be here with you, oh. And now lookin' in your eyes, I feel in my heart [feel in my heart], the start of something new."

The music begins to pick up, and the crowd on the floor is actually dancing. I tilt my face toward the guy I'm singing with, who takes the microphone off the stand and matches my stance as he continues into the second verse.

"Oh, yeah. Now who'd have ever thought that, mmm."

His shy smile transforms into a lopsided grin, and that gives me spurs me on, allowing my body to turn towards him as we play up the act.

"We'd both be here tonight? [Oh] Yeah. The world looks so much brighter [brighter, brighter], oh, with you by my side [by my side].

"I know that something has changed, never felt this way. I know it for real. This could be the start of something new. It feels so right to be here with you, oh. And now lookin' in your eyes I feel in my heart, the start of something new."

I take my microphone off the stand so I can move around a bit more. My duet partner takes a step closer to me as he starts the bridge.

"I never knew that it could happen till it happened to me. Oh, yeah."

"I didn't know it before, but now it's easy to see, oh!"

Leading into the final refrain, I allow myself to loosen up and move along to the music, but as he steps closer and closer to me, my brain short circuits and I take rapid steps backward. I almost fall off the stage when someone on the side catches me and pushes me back up.

Once the panic subsides, I allow myself to inch closer to him as I tell myself to live in the moment and enjoy being with this stranger who I've never seen before, but feels oddly familiar to me. We both join in on our respective parts.

"It's the start of something new. It feels so right to be here with you, oh. And now lookin' in your eyes I feel in my heart, that it's the start of something new. It feels so right [so right] to be here with you, oh. And now lookin' in your eyes [lookin' in your eyes] I feel in my heart [feel in my heart]..."

"The start of something new."

"The start of something new." He echoes the words before we both sing the final line together.

"The start of something new."

I don't realize how close we've become until the music fades out and we're standing in the center of the stage, microphones and knuckles touching as I'm staring up into his eyes. He breaks the trance that we're caught up in as he holds out his hand.

"Ron."

I smile at his introduction as I can now put a name to his face. Reaching out to shake his hand, I respond with "Hermione."

An awkward laugh escapes my lips as I break the contact and turn to place the microphone back on its stand. Unsure of what to do next, I step down off the stage and walk back to the table where I was sitting before, reeling from the fact that I just had fun for the first time in a long while!

I pick at the binding of my book, debating whether or not I should sit back down or try to mingle with my newfound confidence when a voice interrupts my thoughts.

"You were brilliant back there. Are you a singer?"

I turn to see Ron standing behind me, the confidence he exuded on stage faltering as he rubs anxiously at the back of his neck. Flashing a grateful smile that he's sought me out when he didn't have to, my decision is easier now as I tuck my book into the small bag I've brought with me.

"Does shower singing count?" I feel my face grow hot at my response, not really thinking about what I've just said to a boy I don't know.

In a quick attempt to brush my comment off, I turn the tables on him. "You sounded great, too. It seemed like you're much more practiced in front of an audience than I am."

"Oh, uh, no. Not really. I mean, I'm on the qu—football team at school, so you could say I'm used to crowds, but sometimes I have a—er—choking problem."

My eyes narrow as I catch a quick slip from Ron. Was he about to say quidditch? Could he be a —no, there's no way. This is a muggle resort. From what I know about wizards and witches, they stay close to their kind. But even still, I find myself listening with even more intent as we continue our conversation.

"What position do you play?" I ask with interest.

"Keeper!" His response is enthusiastic, and I try to hide my disappointment as it doesn't curb my suspicions.

"That's brilliant! I'm not athletic at all."

I don't want to admit any more about myself for fear it might repulse him and send him running in the opposite direction. Not that it would matter since I'll never see him again after tonight anyway. My foot kicks at the ground, and I'm taken by surprise when Ron slips his hand into mine and leads me out onto the terrace.

It's cold as the snow continues to swirl around, but there are outdoor heaters giving off enough warmth to take the shocking chill out of the air.

"Well, I think you should try singing somewhere other than your shower," he urges as he leans out over the balcony.

"I don't know, I'm too quiet for that."

I look off to the distance at the majestic mountainscape. Even though I'm not one for skiing, I'll certainly miss these views when we leave. Sure, England has rolling hills and beautiful green landscapes in the country, but nothing beats the magnificence of the European mountain ranges I've grown accustomed to over the last eighteen months.

"Well, you never know when your braver side might come out to play."

"Yeah, maybe…"

Ron flashes me another lopsided grin, and I can't help but notice how the fairy lights that hang above us twinkle in his eyes and illuminate his shocking red hair. I can see the multitude of freckles that cover his face, including the clump on the bridge of his nose. I've never really allowed myself much time to notice boys or even entertain the thought of dating, but with Ron, my heart flutters, and I find myself wondering what it might be like to have a boyfriend. Especially one that's so genuinely sweet and supportive as he seems to be.

I've lost track of time, and it shocks me when I hear the chants of a countdown coming from inside.

"Is it almost midnight already?" I don't even realize the words have slipped out.

"Looks like it," Ron says as he checks his watch for confirmation.

I'm hyper-aware of how close our bodies are now. We share an awkward glance before looking away, but my eyes can't help but be drawn back to his. I do my best to fix my gaze elsewhere when his head makes a miniscule movement to look back at me, and we play this game of avoiding eye contact as the final five seconds tick away.

There's an eruption of applause, and shouts of "happy new year" bleed out into the winter air. I jump as fireworks are set off in the distance, lighting up the snow-capped mountains in hues of reds, golds, blues, and greens. Ron's hand steadies me as we make eye contact again. My lips part and I can't help it as my eyes travel down to his mouth for a split second. When I look up, I realize he's done the same.

I feel as though my eyes are playing tricks on me, but I can feel the faintness of his breath on my cheek as he leans in. My heart is pounding in my chest as I hear his words about bravery echoing in my mind. So, I lean closer to help close the gap. When our lips meet, his feel feather-light against mine. It's sweet and tentative, yet it feels perfect, like everything I've ever hoped for in a first kiss. The setting couldn't be more romantic, and I catalogue everything I'm thinking and feeling, not wanting to forget a single detail.

We break apart after a few moments, and sadness and regret flow through me, ruining the elation I was hoping to hang on to. What was I thinking? I'm never going to see Ron after tonight, so why have I just gotten my hopes up spending the last part of the evening with him? I need to pull myself away now before I do anything else that will cause me more pain later on.

"I should go find my parents and wish them a happy new year."

"Oh, er, yeah, me too!" Ron agrees before a look of confused realization graces his features as he knits his eyebrows together and opens his mouth in a wide 'O'. "I mean, not your parents, my Aunt Muriel!"

"Y-yeah," a faint chuckle escapes my lips, and I'm glad I'm not the only one who feels unsure of how to continue a conversation after sharing a moment like that.

"So, um, I'll—I could write to you! Do you—er—have an address?"

I'm struck again by the peculiar way in which Ron seems to be searching for words, and once again, my brain is screaming, 'he's a wizard!' but I have no concrete proof. Nodding, I reach into my bag and pull out a piece of paper and a pen, scribbling down our new address in England. Even if the chances are low for us to see each other again, I'm still grateful that he wants to write. I could use a friend, even in penpal form.

I hand the paper to him before stuffing the pen back into my purse. "Thank you for tonight. It's the best I've had in a long time."

He's staring down at my handwriting on the paper, and I know I need to leave now before I can no longer force myself away. If he's serious, then he'll write. At least, that's what I resolve as I turn and slip away.

I never thought I'd say this, but I'm thankful that my parents forced me to attend the party tonight. It felt nice to be a normal teenager, even if I did read for most of the night. My mind wanders back to Ron as I weave my way through the crowds in the halls, heading back to our suite. I don't even know Ron's last name, but I'm sure I'll never forget him or this night, and I'm filled with hope at the prospect of hearing from him sometime in the future.