FIRST HP FIC!!!!!!!!!! ^___________^
I read this really good one, I think it's called the walking encyclopedia or the living encyclopedia (forgot) and it was about Hermione and Draco and it was really actually (even if it was slightly cliché in the beginning). So I wanted to write my own. ^___^
Discalimer: I don't own HP characters. I WAS a fire-breathing monkey a former life though. Doesn't that count?
That was random. Anyways, on with the story!!!! ^___________^
************************************************************************
At age 17, her last year at Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry, was slowly crawling toward her. Furious studying, then final exams, then a real career in the wizarding world. So much to worry about. She sighed, amazed at how quickly her years at Hogwarts had passed her by.
She was sprawled across her bed; her potions book in her hands. It was a lazy Sunday and she had nothing better to do than to get an early start on her studying. But at the moment, she did not want to study. In fact, she didn't really want to do anything.
She sat up, groggy from doing nothing all day, and found herself staring at her reflection in the large vanity mirror stationed at the foot of her bed. Her image, as the mirror told her, had long flowing rich chocolate brown curls that hung gracefully over her shoulders. Her eyes were a deep shade of earthly brown, her lashes long, and her eyebrows slim and delineated. Judging from the length of her legs, she was perhaps a few inches above the average height.
She tilted her head in deep thought, remembering what her appearance had been for the last six years. A mass of bushy brown hair enveloping her head, criticizing sharp eyes, and shamefully large front teeth. She frowned at the mental image. She hadn't been very gentle on the eyes, she suspected bitterly. But no worries, she told herself, grinning at the mirror.
The girl I see now is none other then Hermione Granger.
Hermione flashed a satisfied smile to herself. She had grown weary of so many jeers and taunts from others. "bucked-tooth brunette", "frizz queen", "book worm", she had heard every single one. And she finally resolved to do something about it at the end of sixth year.
The fresh-out-of-sixth-year Hogwarts students knew only one place that could get even HER to obtain her desires. And that was "Lapis Lazuli Salon and Spa". It was a place for witches desiring to become the ultimate femme fatale. And in their ad, they promised to grant that wish, along with one or two success stories. Their photographs of the women before visiting the spa were drooping, depressed, and sometimes sobbing poor creatures. But strolling around and confidently posing were the "after" pictures. They reminded Hermione of the celebrities in the muggle world who had gone slightly overboard with make-up. But even so, she had been intruiged.
The treatment had not been cheap. But Hermione had been preparing for that. Gathering her last few galleons, she had managed to scrape off enough money to afford the therapy. They had a difficult time with Hermione (especially her mane of brown hair) and wouldn't stop scowling, but she didn't take it to heart. Had she been an easy costumer, she most likely would've left the spa with so much make-up and hair color, it would look as if she had been beaten and abandoned to live on the streets. The actual result however, was rather pleasing, if she didn't' say so herself. It was not overly gaudy, but it still allowed her to stand out favorably.
She flopped back onto her bed and mused to herself what Ron and Harry's reactions would be. Her face screwed in concentration. It puzzled her that she had no idea whatsoever. Not even a guess at what they would do when they'd see her. Fearing a negative response, she wondered whether she should send them an owl to tell them before hand. But a mischievous voice inside her told her not to spoil the surprise.
Happiness bubbled inside of her as she picked up her potions book once again. Book lists had arrived not so long ago, meaning school was only but a few weeks away. The thought urged her to continue reading, attempting to absorb every word.
************************************************************************
Ron groaned. He was staring at his reflection in the mirror. His robes were once again about six inches too short.
"Mum!" he shouted, "I need new robes!"
Ron's mother, Mrs. Weasly, poked her head out from a crack in the door. Judging from her look, they hadn't the money to afford new robes for him. It wasn't as if he suspected them to.
"Well, I'm sure you can borrow one of Bill's old robes", she said uneasily. He'd been expecting that.
"Mum, don't be silly!" scolded a new voice. Mrs. Weasly gazed in surprise at Fred. George appeared shortly beside him.
"I'm sure we can bust up enough money to buy him a new set of robes. We're not THAT deep in poverty", George said, grinning.
Mrs. Weasly frowned. "Is this money coming from your Joke Shop?" she pronounced Joke Shop as if it her forbidden.
The twins hadn't a choice but to inform their mother of their plans after they'd run out of school two years ago. Mrs. Weasly had put up quite an argument, but the twins miraculously escaped scratch-free and with permission to continue their business, as long as it was not to pose as their lifetime career. But that still didn't stop Mrs. Weasly from glaring sourly at the idea every time it was mentioned.
"You shouldn't spend your money so frivolously", scowled their mother, obviously trying to find any excuse against anything related to the Joke Shop.
"We're not spending it 'frivolously', Mum", Fred replied a matter-of- factly.
"Shouldn't it be classified as more of a necessity? Ron needs new robes, so we'll get him new robes. Besides", George added with a snicker, "he looks absurd with the hem floating a foot off the ground. Sort of gives the image of a dress, doesn't it?" George lifted his foot away from Ron's angry stomp.
Mrs. Weasly sighed. She'd lost again. Would she ever win?
Fred grinned from ear to ear. "Well now, shall we go then?"
************************************************************************
Harry lay dully on his bed, staring at the ceiling of the house of number four Privet Drive. Vernon's irritatingly proud compliments floated up into his room.
"Young champ in the making!" he beamed. "You make Daddy proud, Dudley!"
"Oh, Duddikins!" wept Petunia. "You're growing up so quickly!"
Dudley had apparently won another medal in a boxing tournament he had attended not too long ago. And since then, Vernon and Petunia had never stopped cooing, sobbing, or shouting proudly at their son. Harry snorted. He knew Dudley would never tell his parents that every child who participated in the tournament received a medal as a consolation prize; had he truly won, he would've returned with a trophy.
Harry decided to write a letter to Ron to lift his mood. It was a rather lengthy one, asking him how his summer was so far, how Fred and George were doing, and when they were going to go and buy new books. He signed the letter and tied it to Hedwig's outstretched leg. Giving the beautiful a couple gentle strokes before she left, he watched her flap gracefully into the distance. He wished he too could fly.
************************************************************************
A boy with slick blond hair and hauntingly silver irises skimmed the fabrics available in Madam Malkins Robes. Usually his father would be here with him, but due to circumstances, he was not to be seen in public. The world knew he was a Death Eater now. All because of Harry Potter. He grimaced.
"Don't like that one?" Madam Malkin asked.
He looked up, embarrassed, but caught himself. "No", he replied curtly, although it had been one of his favorites. The woman didn't question him.
He skimmed some more, but his thoughts drifted elsewhere. He didn't particularly miss his father. Had his father been present, the conversation would no doubt be about his falling grades and his below average marks on the O.W.L.s. All except for potions of course. He mused over whether Potter had done any better. He smirked. No, of course not. Not that scum. Weasly was out of the question as well. The smirk grew wider. No matter what they'd do, they would always be out of his league. He concluded smugly.
But Granger. That was a different matter. He had a strong urge to growl. That mudblood didn't have the right to surpass him at anything. The very thought of it scorched his pride. Never had he met such an infuriating person, shoving in his face again and again of his failures. And the most agitating part; she wasn't even aware of it. His parents never really cared much about his grades until they heard word of Granger's success. More so since she was a mudblood.
But he caught himself once more. Don't let yourself get so worked up Draco, he told himself. Someone like that was not worth his emotions.
"This one", he said, placing a finger on the most expensive material he could find. Madam Malkins immediately lifted the fabric from the display shelf and grabbed her measuring tape from her pocket.
Draco stood the stool and held his arms out dully as the measuring tape zoomed around him. His thoughts drifted once more. But all three of them he found something strongly irritating about. Harry and his heroism and constant fame, Ron and his loving family, Hermione and her academics, they all angered him. But he relaxed. It was his last year at Hogwarts after all. He was going to make it worthwhile.
************************************************************************
Only about twenty minutes after he sent his letter, Hedwig came swooping back in, with a short messy reply:
We're picking you up in twenty minutes.
Harry gasped and checked his watch. Is he was right, Hedwig's flight had already taken ten minutes at the least and now he had - ten minutes. He began throwing his things into his trunk. Robes, quills, parchment, they all flew in a frenzy into his luggage. He did all this by hand. He hadn't quite mastered that one packing spell, even it was his last year at Hogwarts.
He glanced around his room quickly, making sure he hadn't forgotten anything when a question aroused in his brain.
How WERE they going to arrive?
Harry grew nervous. He thought of the time when the Weasly's had arrived through Floo Powder. No words could describe it other than an absolute mess. Brooms were definitely out of the question. It was broad daylight and if the neighbors saw a bunch of redheaded persons riding on brooms floating in the air...well, he tried not the think about it. He wondered if they could use a port key. Nah, he told himself. They needed to register it with the ministry first and go through all the paper work. It wasn't worth just picking up Harry to go shopping. So Harry, wondered, how WOULD they get here?
He didn't have to wait long. A loud screeching noise sounded outside his window. Hedwig fluttered in alarm and Harry stuck his head out to see. A crazy old banged up car swerved dangerous toward the driveway of number four Privet Drive. Inside it he could see about six panicked heads full of flaming red hair. He grinned.
************************************************************************
AN: YAY!!! Done!!!!! I'm actually pretty proud of this fic. So many fics about everybody falling in love with Hermione but I found it highly unbelievable that Hermione could be so loved all of a sudden. She needed some sort of makeover. So I gave her one!!!!! ^__________^ ::grin grin:: and while I was reading other fics, I also didn't like the way they made Draco all sappy and totally OOC. Draco's just not meant to be that way......T_____T I don't know how to work in the Ron/Hermione context though. And I have NO idea what to do with Harry. Harry and Ginny pairings kind of freak me out personally.
But anyways, enough ranting.
Ja ne!!
~Meow-chan~
I read this really good one, I think it's called the walking encyclopedia or the living encyclopedia (forgot) and it was about Hermione and Draco and it was really actually (even if it was slightly cliché in the beginning). So I wanted to write my own. ^___^
Discalimer: I don't own HP characters. I WAS a fire-breathing monkey a former life though. Doesn't that count?
That was random. Anyways, on with the story!!!! ^___________^
************************************************************************
At age 17, her last year at Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry, was slowly crawling toward her. Furious studying, then final exams, then a real career in the wizarding world. So much to worry about. She sighed, amazed at how quickly her years at Hogwarts had passed her by.
She was sprawled across her bed; her potions book in her hands. It was a lazy Sunday and she had nothing better to do than to get an early start on her studying. But at the moment, she did not want to study. In fact, she didn't really want to do anything.
She sat up, groggy from doing nothing all day, and found herself staring at her reflection in the large vanity mirror stationed at the foot of her bed. Her image, as the mirror told her, had long flowing rich chocolate brown curls that hung gracefully over her shoulders. Her eyes were a deep shade of earthly brown, her lashes long, and her eyebrows slim and delineated. Judging from the length of her legs, she was perhaps a few inches above the average height.
She tilted her head in deep thought, remembering what her appearance had been for the last six years. A mass of bushy brown hair enveloping her head, criticizing sharp eyes, and shamefully large front teeth. She frowned at the mental image. She hadn't been very gentle on the eyes, she suspected bitterly. But no worries, she told herself, grinning at the mirror.
The girl I see now is none other then Hermione Granger.
Hermione flashed a satisfied smile to herself. She had grown weary of so many jeers and taunts from others. "bucked-tooth brunette", "frizz queen", "book worm", she had heard every single one. And she finally resolved to do something about it at the end of sixth year.
The fresh-out-of-sixth-year Hogwarts students knew only one place that could get even HER to obtain her desires. And that was "Lapis Lazuli Salon and Spa". It was a place for witches desiring to become the ultimate femme fatale. And in their ad, they promised to grant that wish, along with one or two success stories. Their photographs of the women before visiting the spa were drooping, depressed, and sometimes sobbing poor creatures. But strolling around and confidently posing were the "after" pictures. They reminded Hermione of the celebrities in the muggle world who had gone slightly overboard with make-up. But even so, she had been intruiged.
The treatment had not been cheap. But Hermione had been preparing for that. Gathering her last few galleons, she had managed to scrape off enough money to afford the therapy. They had a difficult time with Hermione (especially her mane of brown hair) and wouldn't stop scowling, but she didn't take it to heart. Had she been an easy costumer, she most likely would've left the spa with so much make-up and hair color, it would look as if she had been beaten and abandoned to live on the streets. The actual result however, was rather pleasing, if she didn't' say so herself. It was not overly gaudy, but it still allowed her to stand out favorably.
She flopped back onto her bed and mused to herself what Ron and Harry's reactions would be. Her face screwed in concentration. It puzzled her that she had no idea whatsoever. Not even a guess at what they would do when they'd see her. Fearing a negative response, she wondered whether she should send them an owl to tell them before hand. But a mischievous voice inside her told her not to spoil the surprise.
Happiness bubbled inside of her as she picked up her potions book once again. Book lists had arrived not so long ago, meaning school was only but a few weeks away. The thought urged her to continue reading, attempting to absorb every word.
************************************************************************
Ron groaned. He was staring at his reflection in the mirror. His robes were once again about six inches too short.
"Mum!" he shouted, "I need new robes!"
Ron's mother, Mrs. Weasly, poked her head out from a crack in the door. Judging from her look, they hadn't the money to afford new robes for him. It wasn't as if he suspected them to.
"Well, I'm sure you can borrow one of Bill's old robes", she said uneasily. He'd been expecting that.
"Mum, don't be silly!" scolded a new voice. Mrs. Weasly gazed in surprise at Fred. George appeared shortly beside him.
"I'm sure we can bust up enough money to buy him a new set of robes. We're not THAT deep in poverty", George said, grinning.
Mrs. Weasly frowned. "Is this money coming from your Joke Shop?" she pronounced Joke Shop as if it her forbidden.
The twins hadn't a choice but to inform their mother of their plans after they'd run out of school two years ago. Mrs. Weasly had put up quite an argument, but the twins miraculously escaped scratch-free and with permission to continue their business, as long as it was not to pose as their lifetime career. But that still didn't stop Mrs. Weasly from glaring sourly at the idea every time it was mentioned.
"You shouldn't spend your money so frivolously", scowled their mother, obviously trying to find any excuse against anything related to the Joke Shop.
"We're not spending it 'frivolously', Mum", Fred replied a matter-of- factly.
"Shouldn't it be classified as more of a necessity? Ron needs new robes, so we'll get him new robes. Besides", George added with a snicker, "he looks absurd with the hem floating a foot off the ground. Sort of gives the image of a dress, doesn't it?" George lifted his foot away from Ron's angry stomp.
Mrs. Weasly sighed. She'd lost again. Would she ever win?
Fred grinned from ear to ear. "Well now, shall we go then?"
************************************************************************
Harry lay dully on his bed, staring at the ceiling of the house of number four Privet Drive. Vernon's irritatingly proud compliments floated up into his room.
"Young champ in the making!" he beamed. "You make Daddy proud, Dudley!"
"Oh, Duddikins!" wept Petunia. "You're growing up so quickly!"
Dudley had apparently won another medal in a boxing tournament he had attended not too long ago. And since then, Vernon and Petunia had never stopped cooing, sobbing, or shouting proudly at their son. Harry snorted. He knew Dudley would never tell his parents that every child who participated in the tournament received a medal as a consolation prize; had he truly won, he would've returned with a trophy.
Harry decided to write a letter to Ron to lift his mood. It was a rather lengthy one, asking him how his summer was so far, how Fred and George were doing, and when they were going to go and buy new books. He signed the letter and tied it to Hedwig's outstretched leg. Giving the beautiful a couple gentle strokes before she left, he watched her flap gracefully into the distance. He wished he too could fly.
************************************************************************
A boy with slick blond hair and hauntingly silver irises skimmed the fabrics available in Madam Malkins Robes. Usually his father would be here with him, but due to circumstances, he was not to be seen in public. The world knew he was a Death Eater now. All because of Harry Potter. He grimaced.
"Don't like that one?" Madam Malkin asked.
He looked up, embarrassed, but caught himself. "No", he replied curtly, although it had been one of his favorites. The woman didn't question him.
He skimmed some more, but his thoughts drifted elsewhere. He didn't particularly miss his father. Had his father been present, the conversation would no doubt be about his falling grades and his below average marks on the O.W.L.s. All except for potions of course. He mused over whether Potter had done any better. He smirked. No, of course not. Not that scum. Weasly was out of the question as well. The smirk grew wider. No matter what they'd do, they would always be out of his league. He concluded smugly.
But Granger. That was a different matter. He had a strong urge to growl. That mudblood didn't have the right to surpass him at anything. The very thought of it scorched his pride. Never had he met such an infuriating person, shoving in his face again and again of his failures. And the most agitating part; she wasn't even aware of it. His parents never really cared much about his grades until they heard word of Granger's success. More so since she was a mudblood.
But he caught himself once more. Don't let yourself get so worked up Draco, he told himself. Someone like that was not worth his emotions.
"This one", he said, placing a finger on the most expensive material he could find. Madam Malkins immediately lifted the fabric from the display shelf and grabbed her measuring tape from her pocket.
Draco stood the stool and held his arms out dully as the measuring tape zoomed around him. His thoughts drifted once more. But all three of them he found something strongly irritating about. Harry and his heroism and constant fame, Ron and his loving family, Hermione and her academics, they all angered him. But he relaxed. It was his last year at Hogwarts after all. He was going to make it worthwhile.
************************************************************************
Only about twenty minutes after he sent his letter, Hedwig came swooping back in, with a short messy reply:
We're picking you up in twenty minutes.
Harry gasped and checked his watch. Is he was right, Hedwig's flight had already taken ten minutes at the least and now he had - ten minutes. He began throwing his things into his trunk. Robes, quills, parchment, they all flew in a frenzy into his luggage. He did all this by hand. He hadn't quite mastered that one packing spell, even it was his last year at Hogwarts.
He glanced around his room quickly, making sure he hadn't forgotten anything when a question aroused in his brain.
How WERE they going to arrive?
Harry grew nervous. He thought of the time when the Weasly's had arrived through Floo Powder. No words could describe it other than an absolute mess. Brooms were definitely out of the question. It was broad daylight and if the neighbors saw a bunch of redheaded persons riding on brooms floating in the air...well, he tried not the think about it. He wondered if they could use a port key. Nah, he told himself. They needed to register it with the ministry first and go through all the paper work. It wasn't worth just picking up Harry to go shopping. So Harry, wondered, how WOULD they get here?
He didn't have to wait long. A loud screeching noise sounded outside his window. Hedwig fluttered in alarm and Harry stuck his head out to see. A crazy old banged up car swerved dangerous toward the driveway of number four Privet Drive. Inside it he could see about six panicked heads full of flaming red hair. He grinned.
************************************************************************
AN: YAY!!! Done!!!!! I'm actually pretty proud of this fic. So many fics about everybody falling in love with Hermione but I found it highly unbelievable that Hermione could be so loved all of a sudden. She needed some sort of makeover. So I gave her one!!!!! ^__________^ ::grin grin:: and while I was reading other fics, I also didn't like the way they made Draco all sappy and totally OOC. Draco's just not meant to be that way......T_____T I don't know how to work in the Ron/Hermione context though. And I have NO idea what to do with Harry. Harry and Ginny pairings kind of freak me out personally.
But anyways, enough ranting.
Ja ne!!
~Meow-chan~