Authour's Note: I think the Weird Sisters are suppose to be an all male band, but I always saw them as a band with four guys and a girl lead singer. Think Good Charlotte meets Avril Lavigne, except with better music, lyrics, muscians, and people. Just so everyone knows, I don't particularly like Good Charlotte, and I despise Avril Lavigne; no offense to all of you kiddies who like them. Love and Kisses From the Underground, Mandi. Cheers!

Chapter II.

Destination Anywhere

"Alright, 'Mione?" Ron inquired, waving a hand in front of her face.

"Of course, Ron," Hermione rolled her eyes, slapping his hand away, "Are you paying attention?"

"Yes, yes, yes, give me some room would ya'?"

She moved away from him, hoping that she was not being terribly obvious that she had been trying to get as close to him as she could. Raising his wand, Ron cast one more glance at his text book. Hermione gave him a reassuring nod, though she doubted he even saw it. It was the first time the Gryffindor girl had ever seen the inside of the boy's dorm, and quite frankly it was nothing special. Wall to wall posters of favourite Quidditch teams, and loads of Weird Sisters posters (mainly of the female, lead singer) littered the room.

Hermione took note of the frontwoman: she was exceedingly short, with spiked, dyed, bright red hair, hazel green eyes, and very, very wide hips. Is that the type of girl he goes for, she asked herself. After all, most of the band posters of the girl were nearer to Ron's bed. But, Chudley Cannons posters out numberd them immensely. On second looks, each of the boys had a poster of the girl lead singer near their bed. What was her name, again? Oh, Bailey O'Donovan, an Irish beauty if there ever was one.

Neville seemed to prefer the innocent looking Bailey: adourned in a school girl's uniform, complete with a tie and knee high socks. She was smiling, coyly, while waving gently. Dean had the most famous picture of Bailey: dressed in black with silver chains hanging from the belt area of her pants, hair in a faux mohawk, bright red lipstick, shadowed eyes, and studded bracelets. She alternated with running back and forth in a cell, flipping the camera off, then pulling at her hair, screaming. Seamus's picture of Bailey was considerably smaller: Bailey had on a barely-there kilt, red and black, a ripped black shirt, and knee-high boots. In this picture Bailey was sticking her tongue out, as well as blowing rasberries. Then, there was Harry: he was the only one with a group shot of the band. The entire band had on their "I'm so bad-ass," faces.

"Occulus Qui Albus,"

Ron flicked the wand toward his now closed eyes. Seconds later, he opened them tentatively. His face turned to a horrendous expression, his mouth quivering to scream.

"I'm blind!" cried Ron, reaching out to grab Hermione, "I'm bloody blind!"

"Ron - Ron! Calm down, here. Occulus Normalis,"

For many moments Ron ceased moving, stopped breathing, merely sat on his bed. Hermione almost thought she had performed the spell wrong. Finally, the red-headed boy let out a much needed breath. Relief washed over him: he could see once more. And, what he saw was beauteous. It was Hermione Granger, the girl he had know for years. Yet, it was like seeing her for the first time.

Directly behind her was a poster of Bailey O'Donovan, also referred to as "The Wild Irish Rose." It was certain that she was lovely, yet nothing could compare to Hermione at the moment. Her hair was in a low pony-tail, no make-up on what-so-ever, and then there was the lovely scent of Eucalyptus loitering on the girl's skin.

"Ron?"

"Oh - what - huh?"

"Oh, Ron . . . "

Groaning, Ron threw his wand across the room. There's just no use in it, he told himself, I'm just an average wizard, nothing more; nothing less. With a gentle touch only a woman could embody, Hermione laid a hand on her best friend's shoulder. She gazed upon him with a face full of compassion, kindness, and most of all adorance, though Ron was most oblivious.

"Why in the hell do we have to learn Glamour spells, anyway? I just don't get it,"

"We're studying to be Aurors, Ron. It's only natural if we do become Aurors, we'll be doing undercover work, so mastering the art of disguise would be mandatory,"

"Okay," Ron rolled his eyes, "But, eye colour, 'Mione? Come on . . ."

"This is not something to scoff at. Appearance," she glanced at a random image of Bailey O'Donovan, "Means everything to some people. Everyone recognizes Harry because of his scar. Imagine if he could cover it up; he'd be able to go out into public without everyone bugging him so much."

"Well, if you've mastered it so well, let's see,"

"What?"

"Let's see," Ron said again, "I wanna' see you in disguise . . . Unless you can't do it,"

"Hmpff! Capillus Croceus," Hermione raised her wand to her head, then to her eyes, "Occulus Qui Argentum."

In a flash, her lengthful hair turned a white shade of blonde, and her eyes to a illustrious silver. Ron's mouth near hit the floor: she was beautiful, but he preferred the original Hermione. Out of instinct, he tore off the band that was holding her hair back. As the tresses slipped out of the dull holder, it appeared as if it was twinkling with every move she made. Hemione blinked rapidly, attempting to adjust to her new eyes. The lighter the eye colour, the more weak the eye sight became.

"Wicked!" exclaimed Ron, fingering Hemione's long strands of silky hair.

"I suppose I should take that as a compliment,"

Jerking her head a bit, Hemione pulled away from Ron's minstrations. She desperately wanted the boy beside her to tell her she looked awful with these new fangled looks. She wanted him to . . .

"You're beautiful,"

The girl could have wept at that moment: he only liked her when she was made over. But, Hermione Granger was strong, she did not cry over such trivial things as looks. Long ago she had come to terms that she was just an average looker, and quite frankly - it did not bother her - that much. Then, Ron said something that absolutely took her by surprise.

"But, you're even more beautiful when you're you - just you,"

And, he took her wand from her hands, aiming at her head then orbs. Staring at him much like a deer would when caught in headlights - she smiled brightly at him.

"Occulus Normalis, Capillus Normalis,"

Instantaneously, Hermione was back to her old self again. Ron began to stroke her hair again, this time more adoringly. Self-consciously, the girl leaned into his touch. His hand drifted to her cheek, yet he did stop in his stroking. Soft, un-marred flesh came in contact with his calloused hands, but she could have cared less. Both teens hesitantly leaned forward, the room fading into oblivion, and all they saw was each other. Besides, as long as they had each other, they knew their destination.