AN: Written as if the 6th book never happened.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything you recognize… If I did, I sure as hell wouldn't be on as lovely as the site is, writing this.
Unwilling Transformations
Chapter 1
Hermione Granger had just come home from another year at Hogwarts, and not just any year, but her sixth year, her second to last year. Even just thinking about it caused panic to rise in her throat. After the coming year she would be on her own without her school, which was her haven. She shook her head, hoping that perhaps the thoughts in it would simply fly out her ears and away forever, or something of the sort.
She turned her attention to the face in the reflection. Staring back at her was a young woman with chocolate brown eyes, delicate features, and the same brown frizz on her head. The hair was perhaps the only thing that had stayed the same over the years. She had changes remarkably, and in her own opinion, for the better. She couldn't understand why no guys ever asked her out nor had a crush on her. It wasn't really fair at all, and the worst part about it was that Hermione herself couldn't begin to understand why they weren't interested in her, and if there was one thing Hermione couldn't bear it was not understanding things.
She interrupted her musings to unpack her things before dinner. Her wardrobe was nearly the same as it had been in first year, comprised of knee-length or longer pleated Hogwarts uniform skirts, large concealing white button-downs, heavy woolen sweaters, and various other bland articles of clothing. They made her feel safe in the way they concealed her figure, her personality, her sexuality.
Before long, she had her clothing tucked neatly away into dresser drawers and on hangers in her closet. Her mother called her down to dinner promptly at six, as always, and Hermione made her way through the huge, empty house to the dinner table. Her mother served nearly tasteless chicken, plain mashed potatoes, and steamed carrots to the family and the three adults sat eating in silence. Hermione reminisced on her meals at Hogwarts which were always flavorful and varied.
Her father broke the awkward silence first. "So, Hermione, how was your year?" he asked, not even looking up.
"It went well, I'd say. My classes are good, I have a full schedule. Ron and Harry wonder how I do it all, but somehow I keep up. I learned a lot, and I got very good marks on the end-of-the-year exams. All O's, for outstanding of course. Highest marks you can get. And, of course, Harry and Dumbledore defeated the Dark Lord with the help of the Order of the Phoenix and the D.A.," she told them, over-simplifying issues concerning Voldemort as she always did. They just wouldn't understand, and they'd have taken her out of school years ago if they understood completely the danger she was in there.
"The D.A.?" her mother asked. "Oh you mean that secret society you and those boys founded?" Her mother put an accusing sort of emphasis on the words "those boys." According to Anne Granger, Hermione's friends were the root of all that was bad in the world, and they were constantly dragging Hermione along into their schemes.
"Those boys' names are Harry and Ron, Mother. They are harmless and they are great guys. Oh yes, and that is what I mean by the D.A.," Hermione explained, irritated.
"Why don't you have any female friends?" Anne complained. "Don't you ever get lonely?"
"Mum, I have a female friend. Her name is Ginny Weasley. The rest of the female population at Hogwarts, with few exceptions, is a bunch of twittering idiots," Hermione said through gritted teeth. Every time she came home they had to go through this again, and she was getting thoroughly sick of it. Much to her delight, she was spared the rest of the customary interrogation by an owl tapping at the tall windows in the dining room.
"What have I told you about getting mail from those boys at dinner time?" Anne asked sharply.
"I'm sorry, I've told them not to send me letters during dinner time and again, but they never seem to remember," Hermione sighed, getting up and letting the owl in.
"Oh, good Lord," Anne gasped, leaning back in her chair as Pigwidgeon shot past her. "It's the hyperactive, twittering one."
Hermione snatched Pig out of the air with an experienced hand. She excused herself and walked up the stairs to her room, Pig held still in one fist. Once back within the comfort of her room, Hermione untied the letter from Pig's leg and sat down at her large desk to read it.
Dear Hermione,
I know we've hardly been back from school at all yet, but in light of Voldemort's defeat and our return home, my mother "requests your company for a celebration with the rest of the member's of the D.A. and the Order." No, I didn't remember all that. She's standing here dictating it to me. The party is on Saturday, but you could arrive here any day in between now and then. I'm expecting Harry tomorrow afternoon. Of course, once you're here you're welcome to stay the rest of the summer.
-Ron.
Hermione reread the letter, smiling. Thank God someone had a plan to get her out of this house. She'd have to thank Mrs. Weasley tomorrow as soon as she got there. She fished a quill, ink, and parchment out of her school book bad and wrote back, telling Ron to expect her around the same time as Harry tomorrow, and that she would be staying until they left for Hogwarts in September.
"Mum, Dad!" Hermione said, walking into the spacious living room where her parents sat watching TV.
"Yes, dear?" Anne replied, never once looking up from the TV screen.
"Ron has invited me to his house for the rest of the summer, and I'll be leaving tomorrow afternoon," Hermione told them, rather than asked them.
"All right, that sounds fine. I trust that Ron's mother knows about this?"
"Of course she does," Hermione said, exasperated. She returned to her room, putting all of her recently unpacked clothes back into her trunk. She retrieved her school books from her shelves along with a few others including her favorite, "Hogwarts, A History." She tucked all of her other school supplies into various corners of the large trunk before closing it and going to bed.
The next morning Hermione woke up refreshed. Sunlight streamed through her sheer white curtains as Hermione got dressed in a baggy navy blue polo shirt and jeans. She ran a brush through her out-of-control hair and double-checked to see if she had packed everything she needed. At one o'clock in the afternoon she dragged her trunk and a caged Crookshanks down the stairs to the fireplace in the living room. Her parents were there to say goodbye.
"We've deposited another three hundred galleons in your account at Gringotts for any expenses over the school year," her father informed her, embracing her briefly.
"Goodbye, sweets, have a good year," Anne said, hugging her.
Hermione took a small sack of Floo powder and her wand from her pocket. She opened up the glass doors to the large brick fireplace. She muttered "Incendio," and a fire sprung up in the grate. As her parents watched these peculiar rituals, she threw a pinch of Floo powder in the fire and it turned green instantly. Hermione heaved her trunk into the lukewarm flames. With one hand on the trunk and one holding Crookshanks' cage, she shouted, "The Burrow!"
After several minutes of whirling through the fires on the hearths of wizarding homes, Hermione found the hearth of the Burrow and promptly stumbled out, tripping over her trunk. Twin redheads witnessed her fall and instantaneously hastened to help her up, chuckling.
"I don't think she'll ever get the hang of Flooing," one of them said as she got to her feet.
"Hey! That's not nice," Hermione scolded teasingly as Mrs. Weasley bustled into the kitchen.
"Hermione, dear, it's lovely to see you!" the older woman smiled, wrapping Hermione in a hug.
"Thank you so much for having me, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione gushed gratefully.
"We love having you here, Hermione. Now where are those boys?" Mrs. Weasley asked no one in particular.
"In Ron's room. Where else?" Fred replied, rolling his eyes.
"Would you bring them down here? At the very least, they should greet Hermione and help her with her luggage," Molly told Fred sternly.
The redhead raised his hands innocently. "Lecture them, not me," he requested, heading up the stairs.
"Harry's here, as you've probably guessed. He couldn't wait to get out of his uncle's house. He got here around lunchtime," Molly smiled warmly. "With relatives like that, anyone would want out of the house."
Fred returned with Hermione's three best friends.
"Hermione!" they chorused, clamoring around her. She was so glad to be here at her adopted home. She calmed noticeably, seeing all these people that she had grown up with and loved more than anything. She threw her arms around each of them in turn, unable to stop herself from smiling widely.
Harry and Ron dragged her trunk and Crookshanks up three flights of stairs to Ginny's room for her on Molly's orders.
"Ron, take Hermione's trunk up to Ginny's room for her like a gentleman," Molly ordered.
Ron sighed. "Yes, Mum."
"Harry, be a dear and take Crookshanks up, please," Molly requested.
Harry grinned widely. "Yes, Mum," he replied.
Molly's eyes filled and she grabbed him in a hug, pulling Hermione in, too. "My adopted son and daughter," she cried.
The four and the twins then ventured up the hill to the paddock in the orchard for a quick game of Quidditch before dinner.
That night, Hermione was just drifting off to sleep when Ginny got up and put on clothes, trying to be as quiet as possible, but she woke Hermione. As Ginny went to the door to the bedroom, Hermione's curiosity got the better of her.
"Gin, where are you going?" she whispered.
Ginny blushed scarlet in the dark. "I'm meeting someone, a boy. Go back to sleep and please don't tell anyone."
Hermione nodded and Ginny slipped out the door, leaving her alone with her thoughts. Why was it no one wanted to date her, never asked her out? She didn't understand it. Something must be wrong with her. As these thoughts overwhelmed her, Hermione cried silently into her pillow.
Ginny returned hours later to find a red-eyed, sniffling girl had replaced her normally confident, charismatic best friend. "What's wrong?" she asked, concerned.
"Nothing," Hermione choked out, wiping at her swollen eyes.
"This is about not having a boyfriend, isn't it?" Ginny inquired intuitively.
"No it isn't," Hermione defended herself half-heartedly.
"Yes, it is," Ginny determined.
"Why don't they like me?" Hermione demanded. Confusion and anger coursed through her veins. She deserved to have someone too.
"They don't know you," Ginny said evenly.
"Why don't they get to know me?"
"You act and dress the part of the bookworm around other people, which they think is boring. Then they don't want to make the effort to see if there's someone fascinating under that façade," Ginny sighed. This wasn't going to be easy. Hermione was so stubborn.
"I'm not going to change. Why don't they understand that there's more to people than looks and actions?"
"Have you ever heard the phrase, 'Actions speak louder than words'? Yeah, that might be it," Ginny told her. "If you'd just dress a little nicer and maybe be a little less serious, boys would be lined up on your doorstep."
"Why should I have to change?" Hermione continued her tirade.
"You just do. I'm sorry, but it's the way the world works," Ginny said. "There's something attractive and an amazing personality under those bulky clothes you wear. Just get some new clothes. I'll help you, I promise."
"I don't want to," Hermione whined.
"Do you want boys to notice you? If so, you need to do what I say," Ginny told her.
"But I can't," Hermione insisted.
"Just try it and put a little more faith in me, I know what I'm talking about," Ginny assured her.
"Okay. I'll try," Hermione said reluctantly.
AN: Review please! Its only going to get better from here, but I'm not going to update unless I get a few reviews!