5

Just The Type

"Hermione?" Her mother stood in the doorway, smiling. "They're here. We'll be leaving in a few minutes."

Hermione looked up from her last Arithmancy problem and smiled back. "Thanks, Mum. I'll be right there; I just want to finish this first." It would be her last wizarding task before she took the train to school in September. Her parents had insisted that Hermione spend this summer entirely with them; her brush with death had shaken all of them. The Grangers were about to leave for a resort near Bath with some old family friends.

"Don't take too long," said her mother, and closed the door behind her.

Hermione plunged back into the intricacies of the problem before her, and was just closing her notebook with a sigh of satisfaction when there was another knock on her bedroom door. "I'm coming!" she called, getting up and collecting the light jacket draped over the end of her bed.

"About time, too," said a voice that was not her mother's, as the door swung open. Hermione whirled, sparing a short gasp as the scars in her side pulled, and beheld a young woman her own age smiling at her, though the smile dimmed at the quick grimace of pain Hermione hadn't been able to suppress. "NeeNee! What's wrong?" the girl asked.

"Just stood up too suddenly," said Hermione with a smile, hurrying forward to hug the other girl. "Viola! Just look at you!"

Viola stepped back and did a model's spin, her grin returning. "It's a change, I know," she said. "But it's fun. I'm surprised you haven't tried it."

"Which part?" Hermione inquired dryly as they started down the stairs. "The red and blonde streaks? The baby tee? The belly jewel?"

"Any or all of the above" said Viola. "As I said, it's fun. And it causes people to underestimate me mightily. Life's short, why be predictable?"

"You have a point." A better one than you know. My life might be longer if I were less predictable.

Hermione thought about that as the car wended its way to King's Cross. She and Viola hadn't seen each other in years, but they fell easily back into the rhythm of the interaction they'd had as primary school playmates. It was obvious Viola hadn't remade her whole personality, just made some shifts in presentation. Hermione had to admit the conversational surprises were fun.

"I see what you mean," she said, as they settled themselves in the Bath-bound train.

"About which thing?" Viola teased.

Hermione grinned back. "Well, I still prefer Prince Harry to Prince Will," she said firmly. "I meant about changing. Do you really think I'm all that predictable, though?"

"NeeNee, you know I love you, but yes," said Viola. "You've let yourself turn into a cliché."

"Oh really."

"Yes, really. Shall we put it to the test?"

"How?"

"Watch." Viola turned to the woman on her other side, who was very fashionable in a blue suit. "Excuse me?"

The woman looked up from the book she was reading. "Yes?"

"May I ask you a question?" Viola asked, with a winning smile.

"I suppose."

"What do you think of my friend here?" Viola indicated Hermione, who blinked and stifled a sudden urge to go for her wand as the woman studied her.

"She's a lovely young lady," said the woman with a small smile.

"Thank you," Hermione murmured.

"Well, you are," said Viola. "No one's disputing that. But what sort of person do you think she is, just from looking? This is an image consult," she added, as the woman blinked. "What type of person would you say she is?"

"Intellectual," said the woman promptly, looking Hermione over once again. "Concerned enough about appearance to be sure clothes fit and are clean and tidy, but not enough to follow fashion too closely. Has more important things to think about than jewelry and makeup." She smiled again, as if to remove any sting from her words. "Solves problems by consulting books and thinking them through. Not a rule breaker, or even much of a bender. Favors mind over emotionalism. Doesn't deal too well with illogical problems or being wrong. Far more likely to date the captain of the chess team than the football team."

Hermione choked. "Wow," she said when she got her breath back. "That was – comprehensive."

"I work in publicity," the woman explained. "It's my business to analyze what people project. Was I wrong?"

"Not substantially." Now Hermione was getting depressed. I guess I'm just dull through and through. No wonder R -- She choked off that thought.

"Thank you," said Viola. The woman nodded and returned to her book.

"NeeNee? Are you OK?" Viola asked rather tentatively, laying a hand on Hermione's shoulder.

"Ye-e-es," said Hermione slowly. "I will say it was – a blow. I didn't realize I'd been locked in like that. And why is it so bad to be the way I am?"

"It isn't," soothed Viola. "You're wonderful the way you are. You're lovely. I just meant sometimes it's fun to play. Changing how you dress won't change the way you are."

"I suppose." Hermione couldn't help brooding for a bit, though. She wasn't accustomed to feeling inadequate in any area of her life, and she didn't like it at all.

Well, what did she do when she didn't like something? She worked to change it! If she could campaign for the rights of house elves among people who really did not care, she could work to change her appearance for herself. After all, she discovered, it seemed she did care. She giggled to herself for a moment at the thought of Ron and Harry's faces when she saw them at King's Cross on September 1st.

"All right," she said briskly to Viola. "Where do you suggest we start?"

Viola grinned back at her and rubbed her hands together. "Let's make a list."

Hermione dove into her bag for paper and a pen. "Yes, let's."