Hermione hadn't even wanted to come to America. She'd been here before, and hadn't seen a point to taking another holiday, even if it was to another state. She hated Los Angeles so far. It was crowded and smoggy and had absolutely no culture whatsoever. What was worse was the change it was causing in her little sister Susan.

She was refusing to answer to Susan, for one. She'd started calling herself Susanna Marissa Krystynna Granger, thinking it rolled off the tongue. She was trying to adopt an American accent. She'd begged their mother to go to a drug store and pick up the dye she'd used to turn her hair a violent shade of purple. She had found a new wardrobe that would require the purchase of another suitcase for the return trip home. Worse yet, Hermione was expected to share a hotel room with her. The parents Granger were under the impression that it was just a phase, but Hermione hoped it passed quickly.

Their third day there, Hermione had done her homework while letting Susanna into the bathroom first. She only looked up when she heard the sound of a throat clearing. She doubted her reaction was what Susanna wanted. "You look like a harlot," Hermione said, taking in the visage before her.

Susanna looked offended, glancing down at her tiny denim skirt and bright pink tank top with a trendy saying on it. "I look good!" she insisted.

"No, you don't," Hermione said. "You're fourteen!"

"So?"

Hermione's eyes caught something on her little sister's shoulder, and she jumped off the bed to examine it. "What is that? Is that a... a tattoo?"

"It's temporary," Susanna admitted grudgingly.

Hermione rolled her eyes for what felt like the billionth time this trip. "Susan-"

"Susanna," corrected Susanna. "Or Marissa or Krystynna. I haven't decided yet. You know, 'Hermione' is so boring. Why don't you change it?"

"I like Hermione," Hermione insisted through gritted teeth. "It's from Shakespeare."

"But you can be Raven or Morgana or Larissa. Something cool."

Hermione had to say "You're mad," before walking out of the room. She had to leave before she hit the girl and was forced to apologize.

-----

That same day, they ran into none other than Draco Malfoy in Hollywood. The girls had been let loose by their parents- which Hermione had sworn to get them back for- and found him leaning against a store window, laughing at the tourists. At first Hermione hadn't thought it could possibly be him, especially without his father or his goons around. "What are you doing here?" she asked in disbelief.

"I don't... That's none of your business, Granger," Malfoy snapped, standing up straighter. He noticed Susanna and his entire demeanor changed immediately. "Hello there."

"I'm Susanna," Susanna said. "Or Marissa or Krystynna. Whichever."

Hermione tugged on Susanna's wrist. "Come on, Susan." She said no goodbye to Malfoy, just dragged Susanna down the Walk of Fame as quickly as possible.

"That wasn't very nice," Susanna complained, then smiled. "Did you see that? We have an instant connection."

One comment like that and Hermione could have dealt with it. She would ignore the fact that she had never ever seen Draco Malfoy act as he just had with Susanna. However, Susanna went on about Malfoy all through the day, through the car ride home, and then back at the hotel while Hermione desperately tried to find something on television that would drown out the babble.

"I think Draco loves me," Susanna declared.

For a moment Hermione thought she could hear herself gritting her teeth over the sound of the television. "No, he doesn't. And don't call him Draco."

"Are all Slytherins that cute?"

"I... Where are you getting that Malfoy is cute? Are you damaged?" Hermione asked irritably. "Susan, has someone put a spell on you?"

"Susanna," corrected Susanna. "I could be a witch, you know."

Hermione pressed her fingers into her temples, hoping to either alleviate the headache that was forming, or kill herself. Whichever. "You're not a witch."

"I could be!"

"No, you can't," insisted Hermione. "You never got a letter."

"Maybe it got lost in the mail!"

"It doesn't..." She sighed, refusing to let her blood pressure spike over this. However, she was beginning to find creative uses for the remote control, such as bludgeoning Susanna to unconsciousness.

Susanna took the pause as a sign to continue her deluded fantasy. "They'll probably transfer me in as a fourth year," she went on. "And then Draco and I will be together."

"You can't start at Hogwarts as a fourth year!" Hermione cried, unable to stop herself. "It doesn't work that way! You have to start as a first year! When you're eleven!"

"Not if you're really smart. Maybe I'll be so smart they'll make me a teacher at sixteen."

This time the remote made contact with Hermione's own forehead. Maybe if she kept hitting herself, she would become stupid enough to deal with this behavior.

"Harry will probably fall in love with me, too," Susanna went on. "He and Draco could fight over me."

"Harry has other things to worry about," countered Hermione. She rubbed at the sore spot on her forehead.

Susanna turned her nose up. "You're just jealous that I'd be with the Boy Who Lived. All cute scars and rippling biceps..."

"Rippling biceps? Have you seen Harry? I don't think he's ever lifted a weight in his whole life!"

"Maybe he started over the summer."

There was a silence, so Hermione took the opportunity to run into the bathroom to get ready for bed. When she came back into the room, Susanna began eyeing her critically. "What?" Hermione asked warily.

"You should let me dye your hair," said Susanna.

The answer was immediate. "No. Stop talking. Your brain obviously has ceased to process thoughts correctly."

It took forever to shut Susanna up about her imaginary life at Hogwarts and her newfound ability to turn into any animal at will.

-----

Hermione was beginning to feel a bit abandoned by her parents. Once again they'd left her alone with Susanna, this time at the Beverly Center, of all places. Susanna in a mall was something Hermione never wanted to experience again. She spent her entire afternoon being dragged along by Susanna, somehow unable to escape her even when they split up. Everywhere Hermione went, there Susanna was.

She couldn't see the point to the shoes Susanna kept trying on. Though for a while she stuck to combat boots, she slowly began working her way over to chunky heels that looked like a podiatry nightmare waiting to happen. "Try them," said Susanna, passing over a pair she had just tried on.

"I will not," Hermione said.

"They're shoes. What are they going to do to you?" Susanna asked.

"Break my feet," Hermione responded simply.

"Will you shut up if I try them?"

"About this."

Shooting her a dark look, Hermione slipped off her sensible shoes and stepped into the ones Susanna had tried. Standing, she immediately noticed a four inch height difference. "How do you even walk in these?" Hermione asked. They pinched her toes and put her whole body at an uncomfortable angle. Tentatively she took a couple steps and almost fell over. "Look, I'm walking just like you," she said dryly.

"Cool, aren't they?" asked Susanna with a smile.

"No," Hermione said. "They hurt. These things would murder your ankles. They'd cause back problems. You aren't short. Why do you need four inch heels?"

"They're cool," Susanna said.

Hermione shook her head and practically fell out of the shoes in trying to take them off. "Every day I think you're a little more insane."

She boxed the shoes up again, and could hear a teenage boy start talking to Susanna. "You're so mind-bendingly beautiful," he said, sounding in complete awe. "I think I love you."

Hermione grabbed Susanna's wrist. "We're going, nice to meet you," she said.

That night, when Susanna had finished going on about how she might really be Dumbledore's granddaughter and fell asleep, Hermione got out of bed and called a cab. Since Susanna had stolen their father's credit card and had been using it all day, Hermione thought she could at least do this one bad thing.

She wasn't sure how she knew she would find Malfoy in Hollywood, or why he would still be there, but she just knew. Immediately upon seeing him in front of the same store where they'd met the day before, she demanded, "What did you do to my sister?"

"What are you on about, Granger?" Malfoy sneered.

"Something's obviously happening to Susan. She gets away with being bitchy to everyone, she's obviously delusional, she seems to think she's gone punk, whatever that means, and she keeps quoting Backstreet Boys lyrics at me like she's being pithy. What are you doing here, Malfoy?"

He paused, then said haughtily, "I have no idea. But I haven't done anything. Come off it. You really think I'd give your stupid wretched little Muggle sister a second of my precious time?"

Hermione felt the logic seeping back into her brain. "Right. Oh my God," she realized in horror, "maybe it's affecting me, too! This isn't anything like me!" She almost thanked him, but thought better of it. In fact, she slapped him as an afterthought. "And that's for saying that about my creepy little sister."

-----

Hermione started off the next morning with a bloodcurdling scream. "What the bloody hell did you do to my hair!" she shrieked, storming out of the bathroom.

Susanna smiled, sitting up in bed. "You look so hot, Hermione."

"You dyed my hair pink!" Hermione cried. "How did you even... I mean..."

"I'm special," Susanna said proudly.

"You're dead," Hermione told her. "You don't even know how bad I'm going to hex you."

"Can't do magic outside of school," sang Susanna.

"It'd be worth it!" She would not cry over her hair, she would not cry over her hair...

Susanna was studying her again, and suddenly Hermione wanted a weapon to defend herself. "I think I'm going to start calling you something cool. Dramatica, or something. How many names do you want?"

"I will not answer to Dramatica! I am going to take a shower and hopefully the pink will wash out." Maybe if she washed it six times at once...

When she got to the dresser to get her clothes, she almost screamed again. "Where are my clothes!"

"I replaced them with something cool. It's kind of Goth-y. I found this great store at the mall-"

"I want my clothes back!" Hermione demanded.

"But Dramatica, we can be twins!"

"I'm almost two years older than you! We can't suddenly be twins!"

"Psh. Whatever. Age doesn't matter when it comes to that. Hey, what do you say we spend the day doing rebel stuff and listening to Evanescence?"

"I am not a rebel!" Hermione said, feeling her own sanity beginning to collapse. "You apparently don't even know what the word means!"

Susanna sighed. "Come on, Dramatica. Be like me. Everyone wants to be like me..."

-----

"Hermione! Wake up!"

Hermione's eyes snapped open, looking up at Ron. "Wstfgl?" she said.

"You're snoring all over the common room. You really should cut back on the studying a little," Ron said. "O.W.L.'s aren't that important."

"It was just a dream," she gasped in relief. "A horrible, horrible dream! I don't even have a little sister!"

"Was it at least interesting?" Ron asked with a little half smile.

She paused. "I'm not sure that's the word for it."