Peace.

Title: Winds of Change

Author: Kary Starr

Ship: Harry/Hermione

Rating: PG-13/R

Summary: After the Great War, things have changed. Hermione learns to deal with what life is really about, and how to deal it-realizing that not everything can be handled on her own.

Genre: Angst, Romance, Humour

Story Canon: 1-5

AN: Back again, not without much to miss. Totally random, who here thinks that Alan Rickman's best looking movie is Sense and Sensibility? You know, if you've seen Hamlet (with Kenneth Branagh) she seems to be just like a Harry Potter movie.

SPEAKING of the next movie, what the HELL were they thinking when they cast Gary Oldman?!?!?!?! I mean, the guy is not at all ever meant to be Sirius Black. I always saw Viggo Mortesen in that part. I mean, come on, Gary Oldman? No offense if you like him, I don't. Fifth Element and oh, I don't know, DRACULA seem to ring in my mind.

Before I forget, I had a dream last night about Alan Rickman. NO, YOU PERVS not like that (he's gonna be 57 in January, sorry, he is just a little bit old). In my town, Private Lives is coming to the local stage, and I dreamt that Alan Rickman was going to make a special appearance, and that I absolutely HAD to see him on stage, because he won so many awards for the role.

Anyway, note to self: need to get the Lord of the Rings CD #2, for the last song. That is so cool. More on that later.

If you can catch the Sense and Sensibility line, you will one million dollars.in knowledge.and an award for being pathetic.

Read, review.

* * *

Chapter Five: Red

* * *

The dinner ended rather uneventfully, Hermione most of the time stirring her fork in her spaghetti. Great, just great. A couples-only dance. On my last year. UGH! And, as Hermione well knew, the Head Girl and Boy have to plan the dance, too. Together. Oh what a cruel, cruel world.

Hermione, as reported, went to the Headmaster's office after dinner, though not accompanied with Harry. He ate rather quickly, as Hermione tried to not to pay attention (Ginny was going off about some dress she saw in Witch Weekly that would look great with her long red hair), but he stole out of the room unnoticed.

So now, using the password given to her earlier that day (McGonagall had mentioned something in Transfiguration after class about it), she went up the stairs and entered the Headmaster's office.

She only been here precious few times in and out of the years, a lot more during sixth year than she liked, but McGonagall hardly changed a thing from Dumbledore's days. Gizmos and gadgets buzzed and moved throughout the room, and objects spun of glass glistened in the lamplight. There were two chairs for them; Harry was already seated at the left, and Hermione sat down in the identical red plush chair on the right. She folded her hands in her lap and looked at McGonagall expectantly, who was seated behind a huge oak desk covered in papers and books.

"Now, you two," she started, "we have two weeks left until this ball, and the budget is not exactly what you'd call bountiful, so I'm hoping you can come up with something magnificent for the 21st. You can use these two hours now as planning time, and I want a status report with estimates at the end of the week, Friday. That's two days from now," she said, looking at them, "but I don't want to rush you. I know the two of you will do a wonderful job." She paused. "Well, hop to it."

"Yes, Professor McGonagall," Harry said, standing. "Hermione and I will have something beautiful planned by Friday."

"Ah, thank you Potter. And you too, Granger," she added. "Good night."

"Night, Professor," Hermione said meekly, standing as well. The two Gryffindors exited without comment. When they approached the Griffin that took them downstairs, still they said nothing.

When Harry stepped off the revolving staircase, he hurried briskly ahead. Hermione frowned at his back. Now what could his problem be? Cho must have really told him off...

"Harry?" Hermione asked, pulling on her black robes. "Can I talk to you for a moment?"

He stopped ahead of her. "Sure, Hermione." Harry glanced back at her, a look of uneasiness in his eyes.

"Why...are you avoiding me?" she asked delicately. "Is it because of Malfoy?"

Harry gulped, and put his hand behind his head. "No, not entirely..."

"What?" Hermione replied briskly. "Then what is it?"

Harry looked down at her. Hermione never noticed how much taller he really was. "Well, when I heard about Malfoy kissing you and all-that was very upsetting. But then Cho-Cho said that I should ignore it, because it was a way for you to get attention. Then I replied that Hermione would never do that, not that kind of attention, you know? And then-" he paused, looking away guiltily. Hermione knew it. It had to come sometime.

"The ultimatum, wasn't it?" Hermione said softly.

"Yeah," Harry replied, looking at her sadly. "I really love her, Hermione, and I figured, well, if she knew I had skived you for a bit, then she would calm down like she always does and you would...you would understand, right?"

Hermione nodded, her throat tight. Tears stung the corner of her eyes. That bitch, God, it's not fair to have to make Harry choose... She was so angry at the both of them. She understood Harry's actions, but he should never have had to be put in that position.

"I understand, Harry," Hermione whispered. She couldn't even talk. She felt like the wind was taken out of her stomach.

"Are you all right?" Harry asked suddenly. "You seem...upset..."

"I'm not upset, Harry," Hermione said, absentmindedly wiping her eyes. "It's not fair for Cho to put that on you, to make you choose between her and me. But I'm glad it's this way. I mean, Harry, I want you to be happy, and if being with Cho-" and not me, she thought sadly. "-makes you happy, then Harry, please don't worry about me. Of course I'll understand. After all-" tears leaked down her cheeks, "what are friends for?"

"Oh, Hermione," he said, wrapping her in his strong arms, "I'm sorry, I knew it wasn't fair any way I picked..." Use colours for the chapter titles depending on how the chapter goes: confrontation with Cho-Green anger-Red death/whatever-Black wonderful life-Yellow extreme sadness-Blue

She started to shake, gripping handfuls of his robe at his chest, as tears came over her. What if this is the last time Harry ever give me a hug? What if he never can talk to me again? Because of CHO...and her jealousy...

"Harry, I just want you to be happy," she cried, shaking into his strong grip.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione," he said. "She just was worried about us. She was afraid that something could happen between us. I told her that she was just jealous, but that didn't go over well..." He leaned back a little. "Nothing will happen between us, right?" He seemed to be looking for the right answer, and not the truth. The truth that was bursting from her. His pause seemed to indicate he was looking for verification.

Hermione felt a tear slide down her cheek, as she looked into Harry's fathomless eyes.

The deciding moment. The truth-or to lie. What she said...what she could say...but without thinking, Hermione spoke. "No, Harry, nothing," she said with an attempted smile. "Nothing can happen to us, we're the best of friends, aren't we?"

"That's good," he said, pulling her closer again. "I'm glad to have such a close friend like you."

"Yeah," Hermione said, her eyes welling over once more. "Nothing like it."

* * *

"So, I was thinking, that maybe the decorations should have a colour scheme. What do you think?"

"Uh?" Hermione looked up at Harry. His renewed friendship felt like it was tearing her into a million pieces. She was so angry at herself. And, on top of that, she was not paying attention to anything.

"Colour scheme?" he repeated.

"Yeah, that would be cute," she said. Pay attention, he'll figure it out! And with that, she added, "What about silver? Silver is very Christmas-y."

"So is gold," Harry added. "What about gold, red and green?"

Hermione frowned. "Doesn't that scream...Gryffindor elaboration?"

"A little," Harry said, looking down at the paper he was writing on. Hermione had sketched out the rough outside of the Great Hall, where the tables should be placed, etc. So far, they had the tables placed by four, all grouped in one space, though they were not crowded. They encompassed a square spot in the middle, where Harry had hoped the dancers would go.

They were going to extend the decorations from the Entrance Hallway, down the stairs, and into the Great Hall itself. They supposed that garland would make for a festive decoration, with green ivy and red berries. But they were stuck on the garland colour.

"Gold is very pretty, though," she said. "I would pick it, just that since the two of us are in Gryffindor and all, gold and red...you know..."

"Yeah, yeah, got it." Harry looked closer at the paper, touching heads with Hermione who was looking down at it as well. "Sorry," he said quickly.

"No problem," Hermione said, though her heart was in her throat. Just one touch and you're all a-flutter. This is worse than either you or I thought....

Shut up. We're friends. He said he loves Cho.

But can you really love someone-like that-even when you're this young?

He does, end of story.

"Well, what about garland here," she said, drawing with the quill lines up and down the staircase, with the ivy leaves intertwined. "Better?"

"Yep," Harry said.

"What about floating candles?" Hermione said after a small silence, glancing down at the paper. "And, of course, the tree." She drew it in.

"Ah, the tree. Decorated with golden ornaments."

Hermione hung her head. "I feel a little like Martha Stewart..." she said, trying not to grin.

"So do I," Harry admitted, and started to laugh. Hermione resisted looking at him, and giggling politely, glanced down at the parchment.

She concentrated on the job before her. "What if there were three candles, large ones, on golden pillars, with green ivy and red berries, on different levels? I mean, to the entrance," Hermione specified.

"That would be very...romantic," Harry said, sitting back, and stretching.

Hermione noticed him. "You want to go to bed, Harry?" she asked, catching him mid-yawn.

"Nah, got an essay left to do..." Harry glanced at the clock on the mantel above the fireplace from where they were borrowing light. "It's nearly eleven...and we're gonna have to move all of our things tomorrow...to our new rooms..."

"Not soon enough," Hermione muttered, rubbing her temples. God, she only wondered if stupid Parvati had Malfoy up in her room...their room, but it's not like Lavender ever kipped there anymore-she never spends the night in Gryffindor Tower. Hermione didn't know where she was, though.

"Parvati, huh?" Harry said, leaning in, resting his elbows on his knees, guessing at her side comment.

"You have no idea, Harry..." she murmured, feeling dread settle into her stomach. "That...cow...of a slut Parvati has had Malfoy stay over twice since Sunday."

"You know, I never knew they allowed that until this year," he added, thoughtfully.

Hermione replied flatly, "They don't. It's against the rules. But you won't see Professor Snape turn in Malfoy-somehow, somewhere, that name still demands respect from that miserable old bat." She paused. Though she usually stuck up for Snape-and Harry did, too, most of the time, after the end of fifth year (though no one but Harry knew why), she was just too exhausted to care. "And I can't say one word on Parvati, she'd make it even more worse for me than it already is."

Harry heaved a sigh. "Yeah, that really sucks..." he said, exhaling. Fishing for a change of subject, he added, "You know, we've worked on this all we can, call it a night? You look tired, Hermione. More than usual.... Get some rest."

"I can't go back up there," she moaned. "I don't want to witness the evil that is Parvati." Hermione looked up at Harry. "Hey, you said it was eleven, right?"

"Yeah..."

"Where's Ron?" she asked, slightly bewildered. Harry turned red and looked determinedly away from Hermione.

As if she was suddenly bestowed with an over-abundance of information that she did not want, nor need, to know, and was enlightened without any words spoken. "Oh, my," she said quietly, flushing herself.

"Yeah," said Harry dully. "Sometimes I wish Cho was in my year. Then..." he paused, blushing furtively, "it certainly would be easier...she would know what was going on, like normal couples, and would stop being so damned jealous."

"Boy, to have the troubles of a love life," Hermione said coolly, wrapping the paper up. When Harry started to chat about Cho, that usually was her cue to get up and leave-now. For other reasons than she just liked Harry, but that she just didn't want to hear it. "Night, Harry."

"Oh, yeah, right-" Harry said, looking at her. "Sorry-"

"What have you got to be sorry for?" said Hermione, nearly snapping at him. "It's not your fault that I can't round up a guy to like me." She started to feel huffy, and turning on her heel, she walked away from him. Harry jumped up and walked after her, following her to her stairwell.

"Someone's bound to think you're great, Hermione," Harry said, in a rush, pulling her back by her sleeve. "You're really smart, and you're not half bad looking, and you're really nice-"

"Oh hush your pity talks, Harry Potter," she said with tears in her eyes. If he knew that you were the one-the guy I liked... "That's-you're-you're just so dense sometimes! Tactless! I would love to have a boyfriend, Harry. I don't need you to come over here and assure me that I'll eventually be good enough for someone. Gee, why don't we take a trip back in time to fourth year? Hmm, the Yule Ball. When I didn't get asked by anyone except as a last resort. Except for Viktor. Lucky catch I made, huh? Only those lucky in love assure others that they'll have their day in the sun. Well," Hermione felt tears down her cheeks, not one boyfriend in the last three years, "take your sympathy and shove it. My sun has set...and I just don't care anymore!"

She stomped up the stairs and into to her dormitory room.

There were noises coming through the heavy oaken door. She was going to have to wait until they were done before she could enter. Hermione settled down angrily on the floor, burying her head in her arms, feeling tears of self-pity streak her cheeks.

This was going to be a long, long night.

* * *

Hermione washed and brushed the next morning, thankful that Malfoy had to stow away in the early hours of the night to get back to his dormitory before anyone "noticed." She pulled out her trunks and started packing- happy enough to get out of this hellhole whorehouse Parvati had made the seventh year girls' dorm into.

She didn't finish before first classes, but got a good portion of it done. Shoving books, parchment, ink/quills and her wand into her bag, Hermione ran down the stairs hoping to catch a slice of toast before having to heavily concentrate on Advanced Transfiguration, which would be, for the first hour and a half, lecture notes-then afterward normal class Transfiguration (three essays due today, she thought happily).

When she entered the assumed-empty Common Room, she did not expect Harry to be sitting on the couch, in what Hermione could only assume was waiting for her.

"Harry?" she said, confused. "What are you doing here?" Somehow, anger with him from the night before seemed to evaporate with the happy thoughts of not having to spend another night in Gryffindor Tower's "pleasure paradise."

"I just wanted to apologize for last night," Harry blurted out quickly. "That was mean of me, you know, I'm sure you're uncomfortable with me talking about Cho and all-"

"No, Harry, that's not it," Hermione lied, waving her hand absentmindedly at him. "It just made me think...well, when is my turn? I mean, Ron and Luna, and Ginny and Dean...you and Cho...even Neville has a girlfriend. When all your friends have someone, it makes you think, well, why don't you? What's so wrong about you?" She spoke rather quietly, though these were thoughts she was prodding and pondering for quite a while last night, among other nights when sleep would not come.

"Oh," Harry said, stunned, not knowing quite what to say. He ran a hand through his hair. Hermione noticed he did this more lately.

"Nevermind, I'm going to be late," she said. "But I'm not bothered by you talking about Cho..." Liar! She bit her lip. If Harry didn't think he could talk to me about Cho, then who could he talk to? He certainly takes to me for love advice...and I would miss those chats horribly, even if it were about another girl.... "...Actually, I'd rather have you talk to me rather than...Ron, who is very much denser than lead in the Girl Department. And I'm very glad to hear about someone who had made your life...in light of all that has happened...more enjoyable. How could I be so mean and angry about that?"

"I suppose you're right," Harry said slowly. "It just seemed lately, you get all huffy about the little things."

"I'm under pressure," stated Hermione tersely. "A lot of work, you know. Like yourself."

He grinned. "Anyway, ready to kip a quick breakfast?"

"No, I've got to run, Harry," Hermione said, looking at the clock. "Transfiguration lecture without food, I guess."

"Good luck," called Harry, as Hermione leapt into and out of the portrait. She waved absentmindedly back.

If you only knew, Harry.

* * *

One week away from the Christmas Ball and Hermione was getting edgy. No one had asked her yet, and she'd not bother to look for a dress. She knew it was poor form for the Head Girl not to attend when, under direction of herself and Harry, the Ball had been planned. But McGonagall was just so adamant about couples. And about her coming. But Hermione could not be a couple by herself.

No one else noticed this problem. Ginny, who might have taken a little clue, only spoke to Hermione when she rushed into the Common Room with the bag in hand, a token of the dress she'd ordered. Her eyes were glittering as she beckoned Hermione upstairs and watch as Ginny, with bountiful shapes and curves, slid into a dress that accentuated much and left nothing to be imagined. It was painful for Hermione to say she looked very good, because Hermione, though telling the truth, knew that 1) she could never look that good and 2) would never see her at the Ball anyway.

When she asked what dress Hermione herself had picked, she told Ginny that it was a surprise. Surely, that was not a lie; it would be a surprise to find a dress and a date in one week's time. Ron and Harry didn't mention anything, what with Ron being tied down with Luna and Harry knowing better to say anything. But even just one boy would be nice.

Hermione would get to see the final decorations, as she had to put them up, but she couldn't, at this point, enjoy them. It was depressing. Especially when Harry suggested magical snow to fall from the ceiling.

Hermione, who at that point, had been working on an essay (but drifting far out in space) growled with frustration. Even Neville was going to this! It seemed she'd be the only seventh year to not attend...Hermione didn't know whether to cry or kick something.

She stood suddenly, from her oaken desk (packed with books from Year One to Year Seven), knocked her chair down (it clattered loudly in her private Head Girl room) and threw her quill. She couldn't concentrate anyway-she was supposed to be describing the effects of Human Transfiguration into each class of creature, and there were about forty of them. Hermione plowed easily through the first twenty seven but it was getting extremely tedious. She needed a break.

Hermione walked over to her four poster bed (quite large, actually) and heaved a sigh. The maroon hangings were of no comfort now, as she slid them closed. She fell back onto the maroon comforter and white sheets, her head coming in contact with the feather pillow. Could she just sleep away the next week? Funny, just last week I was pleased to be cut off from the rest of the world, she thought, but if I'm near no one, how are they supposed to ask me to this Ball? Ugh! I wish I could choose whether or not to attend!

Hermione knew why this was, of course. Two days ago, McGonagall called Hermione down to her desk and gave her this brief, but very heavy, message:

"I expect you to show with your partner, Miss Granger-don't worry," she had said, mistaking her mask of horror as one of anxiety, "your decorations will certainly be splendid."

Sure, Hermione thought angrily. They'd be great to experience it with someone nice and wonderful-like Harry!

If only there wasn't Cho.

Hermione sat up in bed, and pulled the curtains open again. The sunlight streaming in from her angular window seemed to stiffen her resolve. She'd have to find someone...and soon...and she can't be hiding in this bedroom, waiting for it to happen.

Who could she go with? Certainly, someone from her year...she'd hate to have to divulge lower. But she might have to, in this case. What rotten, horrible luck.

It wasn't as if Hermione wasn't pretty. She had curly hair that had lessened in bushiness over the last year. She had a clear complexion. Hermione could get away with virtually no makeup. She wasn't big busted, but there was enough to fill her bra, which is more than she could say for some girls her age. She wasn't fat; in fact, Hermione considered herself well toned. Hermione never had a problem with appearances or self confidence. What did Ginny and Parvati have that she didn't?

There was a knock on the door. "Come in!" she said sharply.

"Hey, Hermione," said Ron, peeking his red hair inside the door. He grinned at her. "Got some good news."

"What?" Hermione said, standing. Curious more than anything. Just don't say, "I'm gonna be a daddy!" Hermione pleaded silently.

"Fred and George are coming to the Ball," he announced happily. "They said, 'We need a break off, mate,' and I answered, 'Well, there's a Christmas Ball coming up soon.' Then they asked McGonagall if they could attend for good times' sake, and McGonagall said yes!"

"That's great, Ron," said Hermione, trying to be happy.

"The thing is," he had slipped himself completely in the door now, "that George doesn't have a date."

"Oh," she said softly. Geez, Ron, a pity date? Well, it's better than nothing....

"Yeah, Fred's with Angelina now, did'ja hear?" Hermione shook her head. "Anyway, George said that he needed a date, if I knew anyone who was free, and I told him that Hermione didn't have one yet, and he said, 'Ask her if she'd go with me,' so: will you go?"

Hermione was slightly in awe; she'd never heard Ron talk that fast before.

"Sure, Ron. Tell George I'd be glad to...at least...have a date," she said, forcing her lips to upturn. "Tell him that was sweet."

"No problem," he said. "Oh, and Ginny said she hasn't seen your dress, have you got one?"

"Yes," she replied, a little testily. "I was quite prepared, Ronald Weasley." Liar!

"Oh, then Ginny wants to talk to you after this. You might want to bring your dress."

"She knew I'd said yes?" Hermione said disdainfully. Ginny could be psychic for all that's worth it. But that didn't change the fact that she didn't have a dress.

"Guess so. Talk to you in a bit, Hermione," Ron finished, and stepped out of the room, closing the door.

Hermione groaned, covering her face with her hands. Now I really need to find a dress, and Ginny's the only one that can help... With that thought, Hermione rushed down the hallway and past her own portrait, into the Gryffindor Common Room. Closing it behind her, she ran up the stairs to find Ginny.

When she entered the familiar sixth year Gryffindor girls' dormitory, she was shocked to find Ginny with Luna...and Cho.

"Hey, Hermione!" Ginny said happily. "Where's your dress?"

Hermione blinked. Why is Cho here? she thought angrily. "Um, I lied, Ginny. I don't have one." She bit her lip, still focused on why, a Monday night, was Cho here? Didn't she have a job or was she making that up?

Cho flipped her long hair back behind her shoulder. "Well, I think then we've got to find a suitable dress...though she didn't leave us bountiful amounts of time to do so..."

Hermione felt her face reddening. I know what you are insinuating, you horrible cheat, Hermione thought, her face flushing magenta from embarrassment and anger.

"Aw, come on, Hermione," Ginny said encouragingly. "I've got the latest three Witch Weekly's, they carry their dresses back three versions-we'll find you one for sure." Ginny then spread the magazines out on the bed and the four girls spent the next hour helping Hermione find that one, perfect dress.

* * *

It was Ginny who finally found "it," as they were calling the dress. It was a off-the-shoulders dress (robe, rather; Hermione kind of liked calling it a "dress," maybe it was the old Muggle in her), that hung down, down, down...the model's legs look miles long. Hermione was sure that Ginny was out. Of. Her. Mind.

"This is way to expensive," Hermione said painfully, looking at a price starting at 150 Galleons.

"It's nothing compared to wowing the crowd, Hermione!" Ginny said enthusiastically, as Luna and Cho leaned over and glanced at where Ginny's perfectly manicured finger was pointing. "With a draped gabardine to match the colour of the dress, and your hair up-not too up," she added, squinting with one eye and imagining Hermione in the hairstyle only in her mind, "the right earrings, some makeup...you'll be a Princess, Hermione!"

"Do you think that that will fit her?" said Cho coolly. "It looks a little...small...."

"No, Hermione can't be any bigger than a size two?" Luna replied softly.

"One," Hermione said quietly. "That's what my jeans tell me, anyway."

"See?" said Ginny triumphantly. "It's the dress! Now we just have to rush order it..." Ginny flipped to the back, ripped out the form, and got a quill so quickly, Hermione thought she summoned it.

"Name, Hermione Granger. Address? Head Girls' Gryffindor Room, Hogwarts School.... Product? Fab-u-louso dress...."

Luna giggled appreciatively, while Hermione smiled weakly. With no time passed, the dress order form was out in the mail. Ginny assured her that the billing would come later, no problem, and the dress would be here in three days, guaranteed.

"I ordered a size one, like you said," Ginny announced, sucking on the end of her quill. "But if it doesn't fit right, we've got only one more try to fix it-I wouldn't dare take magic to a dress like this..."

Hermione turned to Luna. "What will your dress look like?" she asked curiously.

"It's so grand," Luna replied, her eyes sparkling. "It's off the shoulders, with two long stripes of cloth, and it billows." She seemed breathless.

"Ah," Hermione said, knowing all to well that asking even a perfectly simple question as that would ensure a very odd answer indeed. Cho snorted on Hermione's left.

"Harry will love my dress," she said pompously. Hermione frowned. Now Cho can't be like this normally-she usually seems sedate. Is she that jealous of me? What happened to the waterworks girl of the past? The one who was so sure she was in love with Cedric and couldn't help herself to bring him up on Harry's and her dates. Back then when I didn't care, except that Harry was acting gentlemanly. Nowadays....

"Anyway," Hermione said, after the long, awkward silence, "I have an essay that needs doing, so if you'll excuse me..."

Ginny waved as Hermione stood. "Bye then," she said, moving so Hermione could get out the door. "I can't wait until the Ball! I'm so glad you found a date-I'm sorry I didn't realize that you were without one."

Hermione smiled very, very weakly. "Well, I'm going with George, so I can go now...to the Ball, I mean."

She grinned. "Fred and George back, I can't wait! Man, since fifth year- I've missed those guys around here." Ginny had a very mischievous look in her eyes.

Hermione was afraid to know why.

* * *

Without realizing it, the day of the Ball had come. Despite the unwavering importance of O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s, classes for fifth years and above were cut short, and most of the teachers allowed for some fun-well, except Snape, who, as always, promised rained when they wanted sun.

When Hermione, unknowingly, walked out of Charms that afternoon, Ginny pounced on her, attacking like a rabid animal. "Let's go!" she hissed, and lead-dragged, really-Hermione back to the Common Room and up to the sixth year dorm where Hermione's dress lay.

"Bath!" she ordered, and spun Hermione into the bathroom. An hour for "pre- priming," she was assured. How long it took for Ginny to get ready, Hermione never knew. Much pain was accompanied with this reverie. Quite frankly, Hermione was wishing she were back in class.

Determined for Hermione to have a "fresh" look, Ginny attacked her with feminine equipment: hot wax, green globs, relaxants, cucumbers, nail polish, the works.... Tears (the crying kind) and tears (the ripping sort) ensued, as Ginny took to Hermione's legs, eyebrows...plunged her face in cold cream and stuck vegetables in her eyes...scratched and scraped at Hermione's nails, buffed them and polished them ("Clear," Hermione ordered, but hardly could see what was going on). She wondered why Ginny wasn't primping herself when, curtly and irritably (Hermione might have scratched and screamed a little too loud with the waxing), she declared this done a day before. Short of taping Hermione's mouth shut, she forbade her to speak until the preliminaries are done, Hermione captive in a terry cloth robe in the bathroom.

Hermione emerged an hour later, her skin was soft and clean, her nails well done, her legs smooth, her eyebrows arched, and her curly hair tame. She had to admit, she was impressed at Ginny's intuitiveness. When asked, Ginny eyed her with a gleam in her eye not unlike the one Weasleys' occasionally had, and said, "I've been waiting to do this to you for three years, Hermione. I love making people pretty." A juvenile comment, but Hermione knew better to inquire any further when Ginny was, clearly, on a mission.

Ginny spun poor Hermione into the Common Room where her hair and face was attacked once more. Slipping the undergarments on, including the slip, Ginny was over at the vanity mirror (vein-ity mirrors, Hermione thought dryly), books open and odd instruments pulled out, in order, according to what Ginny thought she ought to use. It scared Hermione, especially, when she was called over and was asked to sit in The Chair.

Eyes squinted shut, Hermione felt the oddest feeling on her head, as brushes, wand spells and those...pieces of equipment...played with her mane of hair. When Hermione opened one eye wearily, she was absolutely shocked at what she saw.

It was twisted up at the top of her head, in a loose, swirling band, but there were pieces of hair falling softly everywhere, the tendrils curling softly around her face. Her bangs were side swept, shorter, a little, but much more complimentary than before.

"It looks great!" Hermione exclaimed, almost uncharacteristically, as she ran to the mirror. She heard Ginny cackling softly in the background.

"Now...for the makeup!" she cried, swinging The Chair around. Boxes were open everywhere. Powder, blush, lipstick all flew at her face in record time. Foundation, to smooth out the skin tone...blush, to make Hermione seem more adult...light pink eyeshadow, to match the dress...powder to ward off shine...pale pink gloss to make her lips irresistible....

When Hermione was finished, she never saw herself more adult. Ginny's cackling grew steadily louder. It wouldn't have shocked Hermione to hear her scream, "It's alive!"

"Now, go get dressed," Ginny ordered, pointing to the floating dress in the corner, where the spells cast on it warded off wrinkles. "And let me to myself."

Hermione moved quickly to the corner and slipped the dress over her head, where she had found three days before to fit perfectly. Now, completed, Hermione did look like a Princess. She was about to pick up gabardine to have hang around her arms and around her back when she head, "Accio Dress!" from Ginny.

When she turned around, bewildered, she saw that Ginny not only had her dress on (light blue with sparkles that hung very low and very long), but that she also had makeup and hair done as well (her hair was down, except for the edges, which were really curly and her makeup was very light).

"Gin, how do you do it?" Hermione asked in awe.

"I, Hermione, am a girl," she replied disdainfully. "I know the secrets...."

She's crazy, Hermione thought, as Ginny dragged her downstairs.

It was time to meet everyone.