Chapter 1 - Rats
"Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid, fat rat yellow," said the adorably gullible red-headed boy. He had a smudge of dirt next to his nose, and for some reason Hermione had a strange urge to slowly wipe it off with her hand. And then perhaps, run her hand along his gorgeous cheek, stare into his deep blue eyes, lean in and-
"I should've known the Twins were pranking me," the red-headed boy said miserably, his gray rat napping on his pleasingly-shaped thighs. "'Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow?' I must be a bloody idiot."
Hermione huffed, struck by the sudden urge to find these twins and give them a dressing down for bullying such an innocent, experienced, cute, rugged- Wait! She'd read about a charm that could make things change colour in the fourth-year spellbook she'd read past bedtime in an audacious fit of teenage rebellion. She hadn't practiced it, but she remembered the incantation and wand movement.
"Give it here," Hermione said, sitting next to the red-head and fighting off a blush. "I think I know the spell you were trying for. I mean, it is for fifth years, so I might not be able to do it and that's probably why you couldn't. I know you're a good wizard, but I've been the best student in every class I've been in, so you could hardly compare to me." Did she really just say that? Oh gosh, she was still blathering wasn't she? "I even skipped ahead four years in school. Everyone tells me I'm a genius, but I know that it's just that I study harder than them although I suppose I might be a little clever. Anyways, I've tried all the spells in first and second year, of course, and they've all worked for me-"
The red-head handed her his rat with an alarmed look on his face.
Strange. She'd never felt such compulsion before. It was funny how even though she logically knew she'd been the one speaking, it really felt like a different person had taken over her voice and tried to make her look like a complete wanker. For one she may have been less than entirely honest in her embarrassing little soliloquy (although it could hardly be considered her fault, what girl wouldn't fib when faced with such a dropdead gorgeous redhead?). The charm was a fourth year spell, she'd skipped ahead three years of school not four, and she'd only managed about a third of the first year spells and a fifth of the second year spells. And for two, why had she volunteered to try out a colour change charm in the first place? It was far too advanced for Perfectly Ordinary Hermione Granger. More importantly, she'd promised Mum and Dad not to practice magic more than three years in advance (they thought it was important she find a place to stay for once), so performing the fourth-year charm was against the rules.
The cute redhead was staring at her expectantly, sending Hermione's heart aflutter.
Forget her promises! Forget her past! Forget prudence! All that mattered in the entire world was impressing him, for if she truly impressed him all would be right in her world!
She remembered the incantation, emphasis on the 'VA', no wand movement.
"Colovaria." Hermione said, imagining the rat yellow, holding her wand steady. It stayed quite gray.
Pachelbel's Canon! Hermione blinked in dissapointment.
"It's fine," said the red-head, in a relieved voice. "You did say it was a fifth year spell. I appreciate you trying to help me, but even if you actually were a genius…"
Hermione stopped listening. He didn't think she was a… So he thought she was stupid? No! Unacceptable, simply unacceptable. Hermione sniffed. Even though this was when she'd normally quit, something about the red-head thinking less of her made her feel positively sick to her stomach.
"Co-loh-VA-ree-ah," Hermione said willfully. This rat's stupid gray hair would NOT get in the way of her future with the handsome red-head.
A red light flashed from the tip of her wand and the rat's hair slowly turned a beautiful shade of red that matched its owner splendidly. "There you are. A sixth year spell, whoever those horrid Twins are, they're in for a rude surprise." Humble Hermione smirked. Maybe she really was a genius.
"Hey! Don't insult my brothers," the red-headed boy snapped angrily, snatching his rat back. "And I rather liked Scabbers being gray anyway. I wanted him yellow, not some ugly red, so thanks for nothing."
"And didn't you say it was a fifth-year spell before?" Asked an annoying red-headed girl. "When did it suddenly become a sixth-year spell?"
"Good point Ginny," said the red-headed boy, who was somehow even cuter when he was angry. "I bet you're not really a genius at all! Just a big-headed know-it-all, even worse than Percy." He muttered to himself angrily, stroking his ugly rat with his delicate hands.
"Well I thought it was brilliant," said a thin, green-eyed boy wearing broken glasses.
Hermione smiled. "Reparo." With her wand, she tapped the tape on his glasses with, causing it to flutter and click, until the bridge between his lenses was good as new. "I'm Hermione Granger by the way."
"Harry Potter," said the boy, holding out his hand.
Hermione shook it, absent-mindedly wondering how she could get the red-headed boy's name.
"I'm Ginny Weasley," said the red-headed girl, snatching Hermione's hand from Harry's, and grasping it so tightly it almost hurt. "And this is my dumb older brother Ron."
Ron Weasley, Hermione swooned, blushing. What a handsome name.
"Pleasure to meet you Ron," said Hermione, trying to break free from Ginny's iron grip. But the opportunity was missed, and she lost her chance to hold Ron's hand. "What house do you think you'll be in?"
"Whichever one you're not!" Said Ron immediately, obviously critical of her competence.
Hermione blinked, a little offended. But then, this was Ron Weasley. A boy like him wouldn't be impressed by some simple fourth year charm, especially after she'd botched her spell like some dim-witted public schooler. She'd have to polish her witchcraft until she could impress him.
Oh, Hogwarts was going to be ever so much fun.
"What house would you like to be in Hermione?" Asked Harry.
"Gryffindor," said Hermione, answering the obvious question immediately. "It sounds by far the best."
Ron's face fell. Not Gryffindor then, Hermione amended silently. Whichever house was the opposite, for that's where Ron would be.
Harry's face lit up. "I hope I'm sorted into Gryffindor as well."
"That'd be nice." Hermione nodded absent-mindedly, thinking about Ron. He was staring miserably at Scabbers bright red coat, muttering darkly to himself.
"Then I'll be in Gryffindor as well," Ginny declared.
"That'd be nice," said Harry, nodding with a dazed expression.
Ginny glowered, until she finally snapped at Hermione. "Don't you have a toad to catch or something?"
That's right. She was helping Poor Neville find his toad! "Well, it was nice meeting you all." Hermione jumped up. "Harry, Ginny, Ron. I'll be seeing you around."
But as she left the compartment, a strutting blonde boy shoved past her. He entered the compartment with two large wankers at his side, and Hermione bit her lip in indecision. Those boys looked like they were up to no good. Perhaps she should follow after them, maybe alert a teacher or a prefect?
No, what was she thinking? Ron Weasley wouldn't need her help dealing with a few silly first years. He was Ron.
Hermione sighed longingly.
After a brief scuffle in the compartment, the blonde boy burst out, holding his thumb. "It bit me. Your rat bit me!"
"That's right Malfoy," Ron said vindictively. "And Scabbers has the Weasley Curse! That's why he's that horrid shade of red. Pretty soon your hair's gonna be redder than mine!"
"You're making that up Weasley," The Evil Malfoy spat, nervously running his hand through his slimy, slicked-back hair. "My… My Father will hear of this! Crabbe, Goyle, let's go!"
And so the three stooges doddered away, defeated by Valiant Ron's quick thinking.
"You know, I could have protected you if I'd been there," Hermione said, as she found herself bragging again. "I know all sorts of curses. I could've made slugs come out their mouths, or forced their legs to dance an uncontrollable jig, or even just frozen them all like statues."
Ron stared at her for a moment. "Are you mental or something?"
Hermione reviewed what she'd said. "Are they not strong enough? I could read up on the cutting curse or some explosion charms."
Ron's eyes widened, and he gave her an expression which even she knew was bad.
"The Unforgivable Curses," Hermione said desperately. "I don't know them, but I'm sure with a little resear-"
"Stay away from me Granger," Ron said, slamming the compartment door in her face.
What just happened?
Upon review Hermione decided she had been a tad derivative. Ron was probably from the wizarding world, and all the curses Hermione had suggested were- what was the word…
Uninspired.
Yes, that must have been it.
So Hermione reviewed the curses in her textbook, and read all about the house opposite Gryffindor in Hogwarts, A History by Bathilda Bagshot. She pursed her lips, unhappy with her reading, until she put down the textbook with a sigh. Her Ron would never believe in something as silly as blood purity. She supposed some slightly more complicated plans were in order. And so she dug up some more books for a little extra research to get the details sorted.
She gave a frustrated snort when students were called to the Sorting Hat alphabetically. Well, she'd just have to do her best and be sorted into the same house as Ron. And so it was, with her mind full of curses and plots, that Hermione placed the old hat onto her head after Anthony Goldstein had been sorted into Ravenclaw.
I would really rather not do that to you, a voice drawled in her head. The Sorting Hat? Yes, you're correct I am the Sorting Hat. Clever, perhaps I could justify putting you in Ravenclaw.
No. Hermione was fairly certain that Ron wouldn't be placed in Ravenclaw.
Are you quite sure? The Sorting Hat asked lazily.
Listen, Mister Hat, sir. Hermione thought the hat sounded male. After you sort me into Gryffindor, make sure you sort Ron Weasley into Gryffindor as well.
Who says I'd put you in Gryffindor? The hat asked obnoxiously.
Hermione snorted. Gryffindor is the best; I'm the best, so it's an obvious fit. Where else could I possibly be sorted?
She had the distinct impression the hat was rolling its eyes. You really are asking for it you know? Do you understand what you're getting yourself into?
Why, whatever do you mean? Hermione thought, batting her eyelashes innocently.
It's been over twenty years since I've sorted a muggleborn into Slytherin, the old and possibly senile hat said randomly. It isn't all about being 'cunning' or 'brave'. I do take practical considerations into account. Your success and happiness is what is most important in your sorting.
Now listen here Mister Hat, Innocent Hermione thought reasonably. I need to be in the same house as Ron Weasley. And I'm quite certain that you'll find a way to make it happen. For your own good, you understand.
… Said the hat, rendered speechless by her rhetorical excellence.
I really would rather avoid having to use the confundus charm on you. Whoever knows what it would do to a powerful but ancient being such as yourself? Why... Wouldn't it just be easier for everyone if you just gave me what I wanted?
"Slytherin," murmured the hat reluctantly.
Hermione smirked. She really was glad that they'd come to an understanding even if she'd had to resort to some good-natured trickery. She didn't actually know the confundus charm, she'd just said that to move things along. She put the gullible hat primly back on its chair, and skipped to her new friends. A man with greasy hair pulled her aside.
Her new housemates were murmuring to each other. "Granger? What family is Granger?"
"Listen Granger, you must not reveal-"
"Peter Pettigrew," Hermione whispered back, giving him a grin, glad to learn that not all Slytherins believed in that silly blood purity nonsense.
The man released her, and Hermione sat happily alone at the table. But her time in the spotlight was short-lived, as a girl who was prettier than her- and thus legitimate competition for Ron's affections, named Daphne Greengrass was sorted into Slytherin and received a much louder cheer. Hermione sniffed as the pretty girl sat next to her and started piling mashed potatoes on her plate which gave Hermione a start. She sighed and began to distribute toothpaste to her new magical peers as more students were sorted. She had promised her parents, and it was the least she could do, all things considered.
"There's a lot of sugar in mashed potatoes," Hermione said smartly. "You know that sour taste you get after you eat? That's lactic acid from bacteria breaking down all the food in your mouth. Magicing the plaque away isn't enough, you need the toothpaste to neutralize all the acids."
Daphne stared at her blankly, her spoon held static inches from her mouth, plopping some suds back onto her plate. "What are you, a muggle?"
The dutiful daughter Hermione nodded proudly. "My parents both have doctorates, although they are just dentists. Not that there's anything wrong with wasting a doctorate on dentistry of course."
Daphne slowly scooted away, and Hermione pretended not to notice the fact that every single Slytherin was gaping at her, or the fact that all the chatter around the table had screeched to a halt. "So then you're a… a… muggleborn?"
"Hmm?" Pure and Innocent Hermione asked obliviously. "Yes... Well actually… I suppose technically not. Mum had me before she met my dad. Some bloke named Peter Pettigrew apparently. I think he was a wizard, but I never met him, so he doesn't mean much to me."
It was all nonsense of course. Dad was her dad, biologically and otherwise. But she'd rather not be a social pariah, and Peter Pettigrew was the perfect choice for her fictional father. First and most importantly, he was dead which would make it awfully hard for him to deny Hermione's allegations. Secondly, as a known member of the Order of the Phoenix it was at least plausible he'd have been lovers with a muggle woman. Thirdly, he had disappeared for long stretches of the wizarding war against Voldemort ensuring that there would be no pesky witnesses that might reveal her fib. Finally, he was famous for having large front teeth.
Hermione gave Daphne a toothy smile.
An older Slytherin inspected her from afar, and gave a short nod. Talk slowly resumed, until the table erupted in cheers when the nasty blonde boy who'd been hassling Ron- apparently named Draco Malfoy- was sorted into Slytherin.
"Granger," said Malfoy immediately, pushing Daphne aside to sit next to Hermione. "You were there on the train. You saw that filthy rat bite me. Did it look sick to you? Crabbe and Goyle tell me I'm imagining things, but they'll say anything to please me."
"Red didn't look like its natural colour." Hermione confirmed. She pulled her hand through Malfoy's platinum blonde hair.
Daphne hissed. "Do you know who her famil-"
"Not now," Malfoy said, putting up a hand to quiet Daphne."It doesn't look different does it? My hair?"
"Well, if I look closely, it does look a shade red."
Malfoy paled. "Weasley is gonna pay for this. I'm gonna write Father, and he's gonna have that stupid rat inspected for curses and killed. Rats are such filthy creatures, only a Weasley would keep one."
"Well I think rats are quite noble," Hermione said loftily. "You know, it may be true that rats were once disease vectors, but in the modern world they're used to test our medicines. They save millions more than they kill."
Malfoy stared at her for a moment. Then he snickered. "Figures that the only girl who'd ever fancy Weasley would be off her rocker."
Hermione huffed. "You'll regret saying that when Ron is ruling this house."
"You don't actually think a Weasley could ever get into Slytherin do you?" Malfoy asked smugly.
Hermione just raised an eyebrow, and pointed at Ron as he placed the Sorting Hat upon his cunning head.
"Gryffindor!"
Huh?
But… But… Her plans… Their future together...
Malfoy raised an eyebrow as Ron's bratty little sister Ginny took her turn in the spotlight. "See Granger, I told you a Weasley could never end up in-"
"Slytherin!"
Author's Note: There is a plot point similar to this in Hermione Granger and the Perfectly Reasonable Explanation. In my defense, here Hermione turns Scabbers red instead of yellow, so you know, totally different.