Chapter 6:
Ineffective Makeovers and Frightened Ickle Firsties
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"Ernie."
One Ernie Macmillan obliviously scurried around the Hufflepuff common room carrying vials and bottles containing lethal looking potions.
"Ernie!"
"Oh…yes?"
Hermione sighed: she would never get through to him.
"Nothing, Ernie."
Nodding like only a beauty specialist maniac can, Ernie got to work plucking, pruning, and preening whenever possible. Finally after what seemed like hours later, he stood back and admired his work.
"Perfect! I am such a genius!" Wiping a tear from his eye he gingerly picked up a mirror and lowered it to her level.
"Well…" He trailed off seeing her blank expression.
"Do you not like my work, Hermione?"
"Ernie," She deadpanned, "I look exactly the same."
"No! No, I-I…"
Hermione slapped a hand to her forehead; this was taking far too long.
"Ernie forget it. I didn't want a makeover in the first place. I just want advice."
Sniffing loudly he nodded. Untying her from his 'work bench' he then preceded to lead her to his dormitory.
Hermione rolled her eyes, he was sooooo melodramatic.
Cough. "So…you want advice?"
A nod.
"About Zabini?"
Again, a nod.
"Well," He began and leaned forward conspiringly, "You should of course learn his likes, dislikes and such."
Lying upside down on her back situated on Zacharias Smith's bed, Hermione decided that this made sense.
"Your right- of course. But, Ernie, how do I without looking suspicious?"
"Get someone to find out…do you have any connections in Slytherin?"
Hermione shook her head and snorted in derision.
"Ravenclaw?"
"No, not for this."
"Hermione, Hufflepuffs aren't exactly welcome in Slytherin."
"I know…but, maybe-" A wicked grin erupted on Hermione's face as she found her solution.
"Ernie, have you ever heard of the Polyjuice potion?"
"Um, no. What does it do?"
In the common room, first years screamed and ran for cover as the sound of maniacal laughter floated down from the boy's dormitories.
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