Hermione tried to put the issue with the pictures with Ernie out of her mind. It made her uncomfortable to think about. And she felt kind of uncomfortable about the fact that she was uncomfortable about it; a true Slytherin should only see the opportunity and potential in such circumstances, she thought. Whereas she just felt… odd, about the entire thing.
Ernie had provided the list to her, and while there had been more names on it than she'd expected, she'd barely glanced at it before tucking it away in her trunk. She didn't want to think about it.
There was something she didn't like about the entire thing. The pictures didn't even look like her, really – she'd done her hair and makeup and worn a costume. In real life, her hair was a big bushy cloud most days, not gentle waves. She certainly didn't have long eyelashes and softly smoky eyes most days – usually, her eyes were sharp, sometimes with dark circles under them from when she stayed up too late reading. And she wore the same robes and uniform as everyone else.
It felt like people were looking at a fake version of her. It was weird, to think about. If they liked the pictures of her more than how she actually looked day to day, what did that mean? Did they look at the picture and superimpose that image on her? Hermione wasn't sure what she thought of it all, and she disliked thinking about it, though it kept cropping back up in her mind.
When a large, misshapen package arrived for Hermione one morning, carried by a very tired owl, Pansy was the one who noticed, as Hermione had been distracted again.
"It's here!"
Daphne and Tracey were quick to elbow her and hiss at her to be quiet, and Hermione smirked as she untied the package from the owl, tearing open the envelope on top.
Dear Hermione,
Your first order put you at a higher tier of Avon saleswoman, so you're now making 15% on anything you sell. I'm not sure what sort of school girls you go to school with, who are able to drop hundreds of pounds on makeup all at once, but color me impressed. I used to make pocket change in school by selling candy bars. You clearly have the better plan.
The order came in rather quickly – it was stripping the labels off for you that took longer. If you need things faster in the future, I can send them with the labels on, and you could magic them off? Just a thought.
Dad and I both miss you terribly, and we're terribly curious what all you're getting up to! We look forward to seeing you over the holidays. We eagerly count the days.
Much love,
Mum
P.S. Yes, we can go to London to visit your Diagon Alley again over the break.
Hermione grinned and pocketed the letter. She nodded to the other girls, who were nearly shaking with suppressed squeals. Unfortunately for them, it was a Tuesday, and they had class to go to. Hermione barely had any time to run to her room and stash the package away.
Herbology that day was easy – a lesson on how to properly weed plants. Hermione suspected it was more for the pureblooded people who had never had to garden in their life, but she paid mild attention all the same. She was amused to see Pansy checking the clock every few minutes, and Daphne also staring at her watch, clearly longing.
When the bell finally rang, Hermione was swept up in a race back to the dorm rooms before lunch.
"Give it give it give it!" Tracey said, bouncing on her feet.
"I'm so excited," Daphne admitted, looking flushed. "I can't wait to see what I can look like with this."
"I can't wait to curl my hair," Pansy announced. "It will change my life."
Hermione let a small smile play around her lips as she unwrapped the package, carefully checking the order form she'd written out with what had been sent. In order to make the math easy, Hermione had just charged whatever the price was in pounds, but in galleons instead. A £5 mascara, therefore, cost 5 galleons. With the exchange rate being roughly £5 to a galleon, Hermione was pocketing 80% pure profit on each transaction, not counting Avon's commission rate.
It was exorbitant, but the girls had paid it.
And it had added up. Pansy had paid 45 galleons for her hair curler, leaving Hermione with 36 galleons of profit from one sale alone. She had amassed a nice bundle of galleons to put into her vault when Christmas time came.
"Tracey," Hermione said, handing Tracey her pack. Tracey had gotten some eyeshadows, eyeliner, and mascara, as well as a powder. She hadn't had the money to get too much.
"Thank you," Tracey said reverently, taking the package with care. She hurried over to her bed and began examining everything, wide-eyed.
"Millie," Hermione announced, handing Millicent her things. Millicent had gotten a bit more, and she offered Hermione a rare grin as she took it from her.
"Pansy." Pansy had ordered a lot, nearly one of each main item, in addition to her hair curler. Pansy snatched her things from Hermione's hands, hurrying to her bed with it.
"And Daphne."
Daphne smiled at Hermione, and carefully looked through her things. Daphne had ordered a nearly everything – eyeshadows, eyeliners, lipsticks, lip glosses, highlighter, bronzer, powders, compacts, foundation, concealer, a curling iron, and even 'magic wipes' that helped cleanse your face of the potions before you went to bed, so as not to clog your pores.
Hermione had made a lot of money from Daphne alone. A lot.
Hermione smiled as she watched her roommates dig through their new things. After advising them to be careful, reminding them to make sure they all looked natural, and tossing them photo tutorials she'd asked her mother to cut and copy from Muggle fashion magazines, Hermione went down to lunch. She felt a bit better, now – her scheme was working, and she wouldn't have to wear make up herself anymore, now, if she didn't want.
She saw Harry approaching the Gryffindor table, and she quickly pulled him aside.
"I need a favor," she said quickly. "If anyone comments on how different the first year Slytherin girls look, don't say anything, alright?"
Harry blinked. "Why?"
"I've started selling them Muggle makeup," Hermione admitted. "But they don't know that. If they can keep it subtle enough and keep it a secret, I'm hoping I can make a mint off them before they figure it out."
Harry looked like he was trying not to laugh.
"I'll do my best to not react," he told her with a grin. "But if Pansy shows up with green glittery eyelids, no promises I won't laugh."
"Fair enough," Hermione agreed with a smile.
Lunch wasn't crowded that day, so Hermione settled in with a book. After lunch was History, and Hermione watched as her classmates carefully returned. To her surprise, none of them looked like they had done anything, save a little bounce to Pansy's hair.
Daphne sidled up to Hermione. "We decided that if we all looked abruptly different in the middle of the day, it'd be really obvious something had changed," she explained in a hushed voice. "We all agreed to gradually start using things, so we gradually look prettier and prettier."
"That's smart," Hermione told her, nodding. "Good thinking."
History was an incredible bore, and Hermione took her book out to read. Halfway through class, she was surprised to see a small owl charmed out of paper fly over to her and flatten out in front of her. Looking around curiously, she met Blaise's gaze. He was grinning at her. Raising an eyebrow, she flattened it out.
You're learning to play chess?
Immediately, Hermione scowled at the note. She'd been reading a chess strategy book, trying to memorize patterns. She wasn't about to let a stupid game stop her from winning the obstacle course.
I'm trying to get better at chess, she wrote back. I already know how to play.
She sent the note fluttering back, watching as it flapped along the floor. Blaise opened it, grinned, and scrawled something back.
I'm good at chess, the note said. Want to practice in the Common Room some time?
Hermione considered. Given she was horrible at chess, any help she could get would be a plus, though she'd have to sacrifice her pride to reveal that to him. She didn't think Blaise was offering because he knew about the giant chess board, but she'd be able to subtly probe if they played together. Why was Blaise offering, though?
Blaise never cared what your blood status was, Theo's voice echoed in her head. He cared that you were Slytherin, female, and attractive.
Hermione bit her lip to force back a smile, remembering how he'd demanded a kiss as payment for his help with the Cerberus.
Looking over at him, she nodded, and a wide smile spread across Blaise's face, provoking a smile from Hermione in turn.
Even if she didn't learn to get better at chess, these lessons had the potential to be fun all on their own.