Disclaimers are here.

Hermione's brow furrowed as she considered Kelly's statement, although she kept a wary eye on the other girls who surrounded them, various objects in hand (including a hair straightener and a mascara wand) that she was able to make out now her eyes had adjusted to the darkness.

"What do you mean?" She asked Kelly, perplexed and feeling slightly mortified at the hint of a tremor that only she was attune enough to notice.

"You're getting a makeover, you silly chit."

The girls broke into smiles, some giving catcalls and whoops of excitement, and Hermione was pushed lightly back into the chair as they approached, devices at the ready, glinting in the soft light.

**

Soft snores were drowned out by the disruptive sounds of breakfast at St Trinian's; screaming first years, a bacon eating competition, a food fight, and the constant ring of mobile phones (at least where the muggle children were seated).

Hermione's head, resting on the arm that was propped up by several textbooks, was dangling her hair precariously over a bowl of porridge as she slept, trying to make up for the hours lost the previous night when she'd been accosted by her schoolmates.

Speaking of the almost-kidnapping, Hermione's hair was now stylishly cut to minimise the bushiness, and to accentuate her face shape. Peaches really had done a good job on Hermione's normally difficult curls; it cascaded down her back (although, now, with her head on her arm, it threatened to fall into her breakfast) and she didn't doubt that if she tossed her head just so it would resemble a shampoo or hair dye advertisement from the television.

One of the classy ones.

Her school uniform, too, had been altered, giving way to a severely short black dress, the school tartan only apparent in the edging, which sat over a delicate white blouse while her legs were encased in a pair of silken, thigh high stockings held up by lacy black suspenders. Her wedge shoes were nowhere near as high, or as sharp, as Chelsea's or the other Posh Totties', but the shiny, black patent leather looked nice with her outfit, and she could actually walk in them (they had found last night that the skinnier the heel, the more unstable she was).

Initially, the first years had taken her through their suggested outfit; white knee high socks, buckled shoes, and a skirt, shirt and tie combo (all with a hint of non-regulation about them), but the look was soon cast aside for something older. Thankfully everybody had agreed that it wasn't her style.

Following this, the chavs had taken over and diamantes, fake eyelashes and large hoop earrings came to the forefront. While certain aspects of this dress were secretly coveted by the brunette, she didn't honestly think it suited her well enough to be pulled off, so this too was thrown by the wayside, leaving the challenge to be picked up by the Goths.

Now this was something Hermione found interesting.

Black covered her almost head to toe, and with incredible make-up and an excess of spiked bracelets she had the feeling that she was somebody else entirely. Perhaps an alter ego, Hermione had considered, thinking about the past before hurriedly thrusting herself out of her more unhappy memories.

The Posh Totties were last, and – strangely - Hermione felt slightly more at home dressed by them than any of the others, although there were some things she refused point blank (like the one set of lingerie with the…Hermione coughed, trying not to blush as she remembered Chloe's explanation of why the red leather was such a wonderful investment) and instead traded them for certain aspects of the other trends.

And so, Hermione found herself – like Kelly – not quite contained by the cliques that had grown in the microcosm that was 'school'. The approving glint in the Head Girl's eye and the suggestion of a smirk in the corner of her mouth told Hermione all she needed to know regarding the other girl's opinion.

The sound of the morning post – mostly owls, although a first year was handing out muggle letters to recipients – woke Hermione from her daze, and she was surprised to see two letters fall in front of her, both carried by Harry's new barn owl, Beowulf. She recognised the scrawled writing on the first as Harry's, and she smiled happily, opening it without much thought for neatness as her nails ripped the envelope.

Dear Hermione,

How is St Trinian's? From what I've heard (and I've heard a lot lately) it's nothing like Hogwarts was… but that is beside the point. I hope you're settling in alright, I don't know how you could be going back to study, but then, you've always been studious, haven't you? Some things never change.

Hermione laughed at the smiley face Harry had drawn next that last sentence.

I'm writing this for two reasons: one, I miss having you around, so please write back and tell me what's going on in your current world. Two, Ginny and I decided some weeks ago that for everything we had going for us, we are better off as friends.

Hermione gasped, not having expected that confession at all. Harry and Ginny were, well, to be honest, she had always thought them to be the hero and his damsel - destined to be together. She kept reading the rough handwriting.

It is a mutual decision, and we are both happy with the result, particularly as it hasn't caused any rifts between me and the Weasleys – I can hardly bear to imagine what would've been had we parted on less amicable terms! Molly and Arthur are, and have always been, my substitute family, as have you and Ron.

On that note, I'd really like it if you could make it to a brunch at Grimmauld this weekend to properly meet-

The next few words had been scribbled out, and above them Harry had written:

the girl I am currently pursuing (she's been quite stubborn up until now – this will technically be our first date (she's adamant that it isn't one!)). We have some history, all of us, and I would appreciate it greatly if you would be civil and adult about the situation and understand that despite our differences and her reluctance to commit to a relationship with me, we have a strong friendship and I hope that you can see this and be happy for me.

Send back your response with Beowulf, he'll wait for your reply so don't hurry. I just need to know by Thursday night. Hopefully, I'll see you Saturday morning. Feel free to bring a friend or two, I'd love to meet any friends you've made.

Cheers,
Harry

PS: Ron's in the reserves for Chudley Cannons. He's stoked about it, as am I, but please refrain from mentioning it in front of me - I've heard more than enough to last me for a lifetime!

PPS: Ginny is currently dating Anthony Goldstein, one of the Ravenclaws from our year. Nice chap, but completely wrapped around her finger. They'll both be there Saturday.

The ringing of the bell that signalled classes brought Hermione out of her shocked stupor and she only just managed to catch herself before her arm slipped into the porridge. Standing, she shoved the other unread letter into her satchel and followed Aspasia to the first class of the day - Muggle History: The World Wars – her shoes making a delightful click against the floor.

**

"So, Hermione..." Chelsea said to her over Aspasia's head. "How are you liking the new look?"

"It's interesting." Hermione answered, choosing her words carefully. It was true, however; she did find it interesting. Unique. Chelsea raised an eyebrow at her cheekily.

"I mean, it's not regulation, though." The brunette finally said. "Am I – are we – even allowed to wear these?"

Chelsea and Aspasia laughed quietly.

"Allowed?" Aspasia repeated, bemused. "Get Hogwarts out of your head, Hermione darling. Start thinking like a proper St Trinian's girl - permission has nothing to do with it."

Hermione blinked at them both, processing their somewhat blunt explanation as they turned back to their books, making notes every so often.

At least, Hermione had assumed they were 'taking notes' on the class. Aspasia was actually writing a list of all the boys she'd dated, ranking them in order of best looking and bester kisser, while Chelsea was designing an outfit labelled at the top of the page as Deadly Dominance. It was ruby red, and had much lace on a bodice that left very little to the imagination.

After the class, Hermione encountered Kelly in one of the corridors as she searched for her next room, not sharing the following class with either of her two closer friends.

"Kelly." She greeted, to be answered with a small inclination of the Head Girl's black-topped head.

"So, you're style is certainly standing up for itself." Kelly told her appreciatively. "I like the shoes."

Hermione glanced at them herself before agreeing. The black wedges were very tasteful, and exceedingly comfortable.

Kelly smiled and moved a little way down the hall before stopping and turning once again to the new student.

"Oh, and Hermione…do ask Aspasia to explain about tonight's proceedings."

Leaving that perplexing, no-context statement hanging in the air, she vanished around the corner, leaving Hermione on her own to find the Chemistry lab, muttering about Head Girls, mystic mumbo jumbo and vagueness.

**

Having made several more acquaintances during the Chemistry lab (or 're-acquaintances' rather - not that she remembered who they were from her first night), it had been by far her most normal class of the day.

For the most part, anyway.

She was choosing to ignore the suspicious set up in the supply cupboard that was hidden behind a large, curling sheet of cardboard with the table of elements printed on it; Hermione had the sneaking suspicion that somebody was distilling Vodka in their spare time. She wondered vaguely whether or not the teacher was aware of the seeming alcohol production going on in his stores.

When she asked Aspasia about her conclusion, the girl merely smiled and began to talk about the night ahead. Of which, she had to say:

"This is one St Trinian's most valuable lessons. You'll use this far more than anything else you've learnt here, or at Hogwarts."

After they took a light lunch in the dining hall, Hermione, Aspasia and Chelsea regrouped to go to their last class of the day, a double period of Transfiguration. The teacher wasn't as competent or as strict as Professor McGonagall, but she was kindly and offered much praise when somebody succeeded so Hermione didn't particularly mind.

They chatted amiably with the others while they turned desks into ponies, cups into flowers and a girl's pigtails into a chandelier - much to her distress – and when the bell signalled the end of the day, Hermione was feeling quite content with how her day had gone.

She was in Chelsea's abode, half listening to the blonde gossiping with Aspasia, when she remembered her other letter, unceremoniously squished in her bag since breakfast. Pulling it out, she flipped open the parchment, noticing the absence of a traditional greeting.

I hope my sister hasn't completely corrupted you, witch, before I get to see you again – which, incidentally, will be quite soon.

I'm sure St Trinian's has been somewhat of a surprise (or at least, a change) compared to what you have been exposed to in earlier schooling, but it's a good education that you will receive there.

Be seeing you sooner than you expect,

Marcus

Hermione smiled at seeing his pointy writing, so small but still manly. It was abrupt, as most of his communication was, but it was enough just to hear from him at all; he was such a recluse sometimes. She re-read the short letter, and wondered over his meaning about seeing her soon. After all, term had just started and there weren't holidays for a while yet.

Marcus had spent too much time around Aspasia lately, her vagueness and joy in keeping others in the dark was becoming more obvious in him.

And that's another chapter done and dusted… Next up we'll see a new teacher-type, a brunch, an unusual lesson, and a new person to make Hermione's acquaintance. Not to mention the resurgence of a few already mentioned peoples.

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