Hermione In Style
So I decided to write a fic about Hermione being superficial. Why? Because she deserves it. Awesome. Oh, and for the sake of this fic and my not wanting to rewrite the first chapter, they can all do magic at Grimmauld place because they can't detect magic being done in such closely warded areas. Yeah, that's why o.O
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Bookish, bushy haired mudblood. That's how they had seen her all through school. To be honest, it was exactly had she had been all through school, until her seventh year.
Then, something odd happened. Something remarkable, even. The threat of Voldemort was gone, Harry Potter was gorgeous and available, and Ron Weasley had a new girlfriend, the oh so exotic Parvati Patil.
Her mother had been thoughtful enough to send her subscriptions to Vogue and Noir, with a letter of inspiration to Go Get Him! She'd seen him in the paper, and Hermione didn't know her mother had been talking about Harry Potter until reading the letter over twice. Suddenly, Hermione was inspired to be something other than boring, nerdy, and sore to look at. She was determined to make her seventh and final year….Fun.
Her transformation had taken place at Grimmauld Place. Grimmauld Place, with Harry, Ron, and Ginny present. Not to mention Professor Lupin, Tonks, Alastor Moody and several other Order members. Hermione, feeling reckless, wore her first lacy thong.
And the world felt different. She began to wonder what people would think, or how they would think. Perhaps it was naïve of her to feel this way, but she thought she had caught Moody setting his magical eye in her direction.
She began to set her bushy hair into manageable curls, smooth, sleek and untangled. She applied dabs of muggle perfume on her wrists, on the crooks of her elbows and knees, and behind her ears, in the French fashion. She paid more attention to her clothes; not only the style of the clothes, but the way they fit her. And her shoes. Always the shoes. Her collection was modest at first, but she soon fought an addiction. Being able to transfigure her own shoes out of magazines was not helping her at all, and soon she had to clear out one of Grimmauld Place's hallway closets to house all her pumps, kitten heels, mules, flats and sandals.
Ginny had walked in on her one day.
"Hermione…what're you doing?" Ginny eyed her suspiciously, and Hermione convulsively clutched her shoes to her body.
"Uhm, nothing. Just…organizing," Hermione said, quickly placing her shoes back into their respective Mylar bags.
"Right. Where'd you get all those anyway?" Ginny picked through a few of them and found Hermione's black Ferragamo sandals. "These are gorgeous."
"You can borrow them, I have another pair." Hermione Leviosa'd her shoes back into their little boxes and set them aside. Ginny smiled and put them on.
"Wow, they're so comfortable!" Ginny enthused, wiggling her toes. "Shoes are not this comfortable, especially not the expensive, pretty ones that are supposed to hurt!"
"I've placed a charm on them, a cushioning charm. I think they're the same ones Quidditch players use on their brooms. Extra cushy, isn't it?"
And so it was that Hermione had recruited Ginny into her own love for shoes and anything pretty. Fickle, some would call it. Hermione had seen it as well deserved after fighting in all those filthy battles and having to practically eat mud for years for being muggleborn. Sad, the world.
Hermione fished around in one of her closets for the day's outfit. It was warm out, summer saw to that. Harry and Ron would be flooing out to France today, and Hermione didn't see why she shouldn't do some shopping in Paris while they were out. Ginny heartily agreed.
Now, they had all been indoors for a while, and Hermione really didn't want to look pasty because of it. It was simple to use a tanning charm and have at it, but it was also dangerous to fall into the trap of Getting it Even and becoming darker and darker until she was no longer recognizable. She opted for dark long jeans, Coach sandals and a long, lacy camisole. It didn't matter what she did or didn't do today. She looked good.
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It was with mixed emotions that Hermione returned to Hogwarts for a new term. She was certainly happy to return to her books and magic and history, but a certain part of her ached at the choice of outfits. Black robes with tacky pointy hat or black robes without tacky pointy hat. What a pool of decisions, really.
"Hermione, I just love your shoes," Parvati said, clinging very girlishly to Ron Weasley, who had a pleased expression because everybody got to see who his girlfriend was.
"Oh, aren't they pretty? I got them from Prague." She hooted pleasantly. Mingling was so different now that she didn't feel as if people were looking down on her. She felt somehow…stronger.
Hermione had on a pair of small, black chandelier earrings on and they sparkled cheerfully from behind her hair, which also sparkled cheerfully. Everything seemed cheerful now, people were smiling at her.
And now it was the real test, to see if it really was noticeable. Draco Malfoy came strutting through the hallway to the Great Hall. Normally, he didn't look at who he was pushing around. He just plowed on through, expecting people to move out of his way in fear. At least the hulking weight of Crabbe and Goyle would make sure of that. Hermione squared her shoulders and set her face to Happy, But Don't Push It, Pal. And he did notice. In fact, he did more than notice. He actually stumbled over himself to avoid knocking into her. She never stopped or even acknowledged his presence, just kept click click clicking to the doors of the Great Hall, noticing with some amount of satisfaction that Draco seemed taken aback.
She stood with her back straight for perhaps the first time in her career at Hogwarts. She was no longer encumbered by the sheer weight of books on her back, and she was certain that she never would be again. It may have been quite dim of her, but it took her six years to realize that there were several spells available with which she could shrink, lighten or just transfigure books. No more books bags would be harmed in the process of her education.
What was, perhaps, most satisfying was Professor Severus Snape staring at her without recognizing her. He just looked at her, looked at Neville, and looked at her again before sneering, "Granger."
Perhaps this was all she needed. Her seventh year already looked to be the most rewarding out of her entire career at Hogwarts, and it was just getting started.
And was it just her, or did Professor Snape just take a peek at her shoes?
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So hey, everybody! What do you think? I know, I know, I know. Okay, well, I don't. So you have to tell me what you think! Because I am so psyched about this fic. It'll be complete hilarity. Anyway, I just need to take a little break from the SERIOUSNESS of Scented, 'cause it's getting to be soooooooo stressful. I know I started another fic too, but I don't' know if I'll continue with that. The plot seems kind of flat. and that's pretty bad, because by the second chapter I have Severus smoking pot and Hermione swearing not to tell anybody and practically throwing herself at him. Ugh. And we all think Severus needs a little fashion update anyway. Don't hide it, I know you wanna see him in La'coste!