Author's Note: This chapter addresses the sexuality of preteens. There is nothing explicit, and it is handled in a realistic manner.
If this content disturbs you, consider skipping this chapter.
Despite her slowly-growing camaraderie with the rest of the Slytherins, Hermione continued to study with Harry, Neville, and Ron in the library. More frequently, it seemed like Harry and Ron were too busy working on a secret project, trying to find some obscure piece of information to do with flannel. Ron refused to talk to her about the project, while Harry would look at her apologetically whenever she asked. Hermione found she didn't really care, despite Ron's goading – whatever the Gryffindor boys were looking into, she was certain that the Slytherin Fashion Code wouldn't allow her to wear flannel, even if it did something amazing like protect against curses and burns.
She enjoyed talking with Harry and Neville immensely, when Madam Pince wasn't near their table. While Hermione was able to hear the school gossip from Tracey and Pansy back in her dorm, it was fascinating to her to hear what boys considered gossip and would spread around.
It was through one such gossip session that Hermione learned she was popular with the Ravenclaws.
"What?" she hissed at Neville, bewildered. "How?"
Neville blushed brilliantly, while Harry shrugged and grinned.
"The Ravenclaws think you're some brilliant goddess of knowledge, what with you always knowing everything," he teased her. "They're kind of intimidated by you, I think, because you're usually always around the other Slytherins."
"I'm a Slytherin," Hermione automatically responded. "Of course I'm always around the Slytherins."
"They really admire you, Hermione," Neville said. "I bet if you visited them, they'd all want to be your friend. They all say nice things about you when you're not there."
"That, and your Halloween photos probably help," Harry said with a sly grin. "At least with the boys."
Hermione paused, her eyes narrowing.
"What Halloween photos?"
Harry's and Neville's eyes widened and they exchanged a wary look, before, hesitantly, Harry began to speak.
Ernie MacMillan, apparently, had kept a set of the photos he'd taken of Hermione for her parents. He'd been proud of how they'd turned out, or something like that, Harry stressed, which was why he kept a set. Michael Corner had seen them, however, and asked Ernie for a copy, which Ernie had made and given him.
Terry Boot, in turn, had seen Michael's photos, and had wanted a copy as well. After Terry got some, Blaise Zabini and Anthony Goldstein had wanted some, and suddenly, nearly every guy in her year had seen Hermione's too-short Muggle witch costume photos with her failing to stay on a broom.
Neville's face stayed a steady red while they were telling the story, and Harry looked uneasy as he spoke, but Hermione could tell he was being forthright. When he finished, Hermione was torn between horrified embarrassment and indignant rage.
"He sold them?" she fumed. "Ernie just sold my photos to anyone who asked?"
Harry winced but didn't deny it, and Hermione groaned, clutching her head.
"So everyone has seen me dressed up like a Muggle witch?" she moaned. "And pretending to fly on a broom?" She paused. "…did Ernie give them all the pictures? Even the ones where I kept messing up and falling off?"
It was Harry's turn to shrug, but Neville nodded behind him, red.
Abruptly, Hermione stood from the table, shoving her books into her bag in a very non-Hermione-like manner.
"I think I need to go see Ernie," she told them sweetly, before slinging her bag over her shoulder and storming off.
She found Ernie in the old Charms classroom that was used for the Gobstones club. When she knocked on the doorway and asked if they could spare Ernie for a moment, she was careful to keep her face soft and tone normal, and Ernie even had the gall to grin and nod at her as he said something to his teammates, before rising to join her in the corridor. Keeping her touch light, Hermione nimbly plucked Ernie's wand from his front pocket as he closed the door, distracting him with a smile.
A moment after he had closed the door, Hermione had her wand at his throat, her eyes flashing, and Ernie's eyes went wide with alarm.
"What-"
"Do not you what me, Ernie MacMillan," Hermione seethed. "Are you, or are you not, selling photos of me to anyone who asks?"
She could see the unease creep onto his face as he hesitated, and Hermione felt her rage grow.
"I thought you were nice!" she spat. "You were nice, offering to do me a favor, and instead, I learn you're just making fun of me behind my back!"
"What? No, Hermione, I didn't-"
Hermione dragged Ernie down the hall by his collar to the next empty classroom, Ernie stumbling awkwardly along, sputtering objections.
She shoved him inside and slammed the door shut. With a furious levitation charm, all the old desks and chairs threw themselves out of the way to pile against the walls, Ernie gaping openly at the display of power. Hermione threw his wand at him, her gaze furious.
"We'll see who will be laughing now." Her eyes narrowed. "Can I trust you not to cast until the count of three, or will you cast at me behind my back?"
Ernie's eyes flew wide. "What? Hermione, no! I'm not going to duel you-!" He scrambled for something in his robes, and Hermione rolled her eyes with an exaggerated sigh.
"Well, I'm going to duel you, so if you don't put up some sort of fight, this will-"
Abruptly, a pile of papers hit her chest, and Hermione looked at Ernie incredulously.
"What's this?"
Ernie looked like he was trembling, but he remained fast.
"The photos," he told her steadily. "The set that the boys all bought."
Hermione kept her eyes on him, making sure he wasn't going to curse her, before slowly, slowly bending down.
The first thing she noticed was there were more photos than the set Ernie had given her – this set was much larger. Carefully keeping an eye on Ernie, she began flipping through them, her eyes slowly widening.
There were normal ones: Hermione posed in the window, Hermione smiling at the camera, Hermione sitting on the broom. They were good photos, and Hermione looked especially nice with her hair and make up done. But there were other photos: Hermione reaching for a book in the library, her skirt hem rising up as she stretched, her shirt rising with her arm to reveal a stretch of her stomach. Hermione laughing at something in the library, bending over with her eyes dancing, her shirt slipping open at the top. Hermione trying to balance on the broomstick, accidentally flashing a long, bare leg as she climbed on, before sitting down on it and throwing the camera an amused look – a look that had been self-deprecating amusement at the time, but now looked flirtatious instead.
She flipped through them, understanding dawning as she looked.
"No one was making fun of you, Hermione," Ernie said, stepping towards her slowly. "It- you looked so-"
Hermione's eyes shot up. "Looked so what?"
Ernie winced.
"You have to realize," he began, "that in the wizarding world, there's not really – there's not any photos like these. Everyone is covered up all the time, generally, and there's not any photos of people being so- of people flirty on film."
"Of being sexy," Hermione said flatly, and Ernie winced.
"It's not a bad thing," he told her, anxious. "And it's not like any of them are explicit or anything! It's just- you look good in the photos, Hermione! You should be proud! And guys just wanted a copy to look at themselves, y'know? 'Cause they're so nice!"
"I should be proud that my classmates are looking at photos of me like I'm some pin-up model?" Hermione's tone was dangerous, and Ernie swallowed hard, taking a step back. "I'm appalled that you even want these – we're only eleven and twelve!"
Hermione abruptly realized she'd backed Ernie up against the wall without meaning to when he stumbled upon hitting it, and gradually became aware that she was poking him with her wand in the chest. She frowned and lowered it but kept her eyes on Ernie, filled with a hateful glare.
"Who all did you sell these to?" she snapped, and Ernie fumbled with his robes.
"I- ah- I don't know, but I have a list somewhere," he told her. "I kept a list of everyone who bought a set, and a list of any ideas they had for the future, too-"
"For the future?" Hermione said, incredulous, and Ernie held up his hands in surrender.
"Some of the guys who got your photos had ideas. Y'know, for further photo shoots." He winced. "I never said anything about them to you, obviously, but I kept a record just in case-"
His eyes implored her to believe him, and, rather disgustedly, Hermione found she did. Stepping back, she allowed him a little room to breathe, and Ernie picked his wand up from the floor. Hermione gnawed at her lip, her mind racing.
"You will tell no one about me cornering you here," she told him. "No one. If I hear that you have breathed a word of this discussion to anyone, I will challenge you do a duel in front of the entire school, and you will lose."
Ernie nodded slowly. Hermione knew he didn't have any doubts as to which one of them was the more powerful caster.
"You will send me this list. Both the list of people who bought the photos, and the photo shoot ideas. Both lists. I want these lists by the end of the day tomorrow." She glared at him. "So you had better make sure you find them."
Ernie nodded slowly. Hermione wrenched her face up, torn, before making a harsh sound.
"You will continue to sell the photos to anyone who asks – third year and down, only," she said finally, and Ernie's eyes widened. "You will send me a note with the name of anyone who does, however. I want to know everyone who has them." She paused. "How much are you selling them for?"
Ernie thought. "The five best ones for four galleons. The entire set for twenty."
Hermione fought to keep her eyes from bulging. Twenty galleons for pictures of her?
"You will send me half of the earnings," she informed him. "Post and future earnings. And don't even pretend you don't still have their gold, Ernie – you're cooped up in a castle with nowhere to spend it."
"I- alright," Ernie conceded. "I understand."
"Good," Hermione said, tossing her hair. She looked back at him. "And you, of course, will not speak of this little conversation to anyone?"
"Not a word," Ernie agreed. "Not a peep."
"Then get out of here," she told him, opening the door with a flick of her wand. "Go back to your gobstones club and get out of my sight."
Ernie scrambled around a fallen desk to do just that, and once he had left, Hermione sighed, pinching her nose tightly and counting to thirty before finally heading for her dorm. Once she reached there, she threw herself down on her bed with a huff, thinking.
Really, the part that annoyed her the most was that it had been happening without her permission, she decided. Now that she knew about it, and she could control it, Hermione found it didn't bother her as much as she'd thought it would. And she had the perfect alibi – Ernie was doing it, not her, and she had no idea that he was selling her photos. She could show a teacher the set she'd been given, and Hermione thought that if the situation called for it, she'd be able to manage furious tears of indignation and horror – especially if she was worried about getting in trouble with a teacher.
Deep inside of her, so deep she didn't want to explore it too deeply, Hermione found it kind of flattering. Her classmates had thought she was so pretty that they actively wanted to look at her. Hermione had never felt that kind of attention before.
And really – was it so different from the photos the paparazzi took of child movie stars?
Rolling over on her bed with a groan, Hermione reached for a book to distract her mind.
She'd made her decision. There was no use agonizing over it any further.