AN: Happy Labor Day to all those who celebrate it! I hope it's restful and refreshing. If you don't celebrate it, I hope you have a joyful day!
Thank you for all the support! It is deeply appreciated!
How could she ever impress an international business tycoon?
Hermione paced from one end of her bedroom to another. Over the years, she'd tried to expel every horrible headline Rita had written about her from her mind. Yet she remembered them clear as the desert sun.
Hermione: Cold Hearted Bitch, Raging Harpy, or Something Even Worse?
Hermione Granger Unsatisfactory in the Polls and in the Bedroom
Failed Minister Candidate Sneaks away for Nevada
Ron Weasley Happy with New Baby: How He Put His Deplorable Ex Behind Him and Found Happiness
She had too much self-respect to read any of those articles. Still, it wasn't difficult to imagine how she'd been portrayed. Given that Marietta Edgecomb was the person to be interviewed on Friday, it seemed little had changed since she'd left.
It was just Hermione's luck that Marietta's article was on Friday! If the business associate was interested in the Malfoys at all, he'd read every sordid detail. Half the evening would be spent answering questions about how inept she must have been as a minister candidate, what it was like to pine after the great Harry Potter, and her favorite topic, how horrible she had been towards poor, innocent two time cheater Ron Weasley.
Hermione groaned and put her head in her hands. Her sleeve slid to her elbow, exposing her scar.
Oh yes, that scar would need to be explained. Sure, she could wear a long sleeved dress, but then the questions would mount. Severus was kind enough not to question her fashion choices, but others would. In Las Vegas she could be the town eccentric who was best friends with the town recluse. In the eyes of a proper Malfoy business associate, that would not be acceptable. Either she dressed like everyone else did, or face more scrutiny than she already did.
The music from next door blared through her thoughts. Hermione gritted her teeth as her muscles tensed.
Of course Melonie would pull out her yacht rock playlist! Just Hermione's luck that Rupert Holmes was the first song. Of all the shitty times to decide to playthissong, it had to be now. As always, Melonie's off-key singing only added to the unpleasantness of the experience.
"If you love piña coladas, and getting caught in the rain! If you're not into yoga! If you have half a brain!"
Merlin what was it about this stupid song that she liked so much? The story was ridiculous. It was about a man who answered someone's personal ad under an assumed identity. He thought he was being so clever, but it was all some flimsy disguise.
Hermione's eyes widened.
Disguise…disguise…
"Yes I like piña coladas, and getting caught in the rain! I am not into health food! I am into Champagne!"
Hermione snapped her fingers as her eyes glistened. There was a way out of her dilemma, a brilliant one at that!
She tapped her finger against her chin. Where was she going to get a disguise so soon before this meeting? There were potions which could alter one's appearance, but it would take some time to put together a look. Besides, there's no guarantee any hair straightening potion would work on her unruly hair. No, for this disguise to be convincing, she needed to be someone else.
Who could she be though?
"That you liked piña coladas and getting caught in the rain! And the feel of the ocean! And the taste of Champaign!"
Hermione watched Melonie dance on the porch, waving her arms in the evening air. The woman's hair was blond, her eyes bright blue, and best of all, her arms were free of any markings. Nobody would ever mistake Hermione for Melonie. Nobody at all.
Hermione darted out the door, cringing when the song repeated itself. At the very least, talking to Melonie would give her a little reprieve from that obnoxious song.
"Melonie!" Hermione yelled over the music, wearing the sweetest smile she could muster.
"Oh hi Hermione!" Melonie rushed over to the radio and turned it down. "Did you come outside to see the sunset too?"
"Not quite," Hermione answered. "I came here to ask you a favor."
"Oh?"
"Please," Hermione gestured to the radio. "I think better when Rupert Holmes isn't singing."
"Oh sure. I get distracted by how much I like this song too," Melonie turned the radio off. "What do you need?"
"I have an important business meeting on Friday," Hermione began.
"Ooh, do you need a playlist to get yourself pumped?" Melonie's eyes glistened. "I have some great ideas for one. If you want, I can give you one of my old CDs. Just let me copy one before I give you it…"
"No, no, I don't need a new CD," Hermione shook her head. "I need to be someone else."
Melonie cocked her head.
Hermione frowned. "I need to be someone else."
"I don't know how I can help you with that," Melonie fidgeted. "I'm a bank teller, not a hairdresser, a cosmetologist, or someone who makes fake IDs."
"Yes, but you do have hair."
"I do," Melonie drawled before she paled. "Wait, you want my hair?"
Hermione nodded.
She pulled back her hair. "Why?"
"I need to be a different person, someone who doesn't look like me."
"And I don't look like you."
"Exactly."
Melonie twisted her foot into the ground and released her hair.
"Please Melonie, it's only for one day. I only need one hair so I can Polyjuice myself to look like you."
"I would but, uh," she put her hands behind her back, "I don't like the idea of another me running around."
"I know, and if I were you, I wouldn't another me running around either. Then again," Hermione let out a soft chuckle, "who would want to be me?"
"Yeah," Melonie's eyes shifted to the radio. "I don't know who would want to be you either."
Hermione fought the urge to scowl.
"Look, you could always ask your poker buddy for a hair. I'm sure he'd be receptive," Melonie's muscles relaxed.
"No, the person I'm meeting is expecting to see a woman."
"Oh, well, maybe you could go over and talk to him about this, except," Melonie fidgeted. "Why aren't you over there? You're there almost every night."
"He's brewing tonight. Tomorrow he has an important event, so he wants to get ahead on his brewing."
"I see."
"Anyway, he couldn't help me anyway. He only sells Polyjuice potion. He doesn't sell the hairs to turn yourself into someone else."
"I suppose it would be unethical to sell hairs of people without their consent."
"Yes, which is why I need your help." Hermione folded her hands. "I need a strand of your hair."
"I know, but I don't want to give it to you," Melonie furrowed her eyebrows.
"I know but," Hermione stood up straighter. "What if I sweetened the deal? What if I gave you something you wanted in exchange for your hair?"
"What could you have that I could possibly want?"
"You like to sing."
"Yeah, I love singing," her eyes lit up, "but you probably already know that."
"Yes, I know you love music," Hermione lowered her voice. "I am well-aware of how much you love music."
"I love singing, but I don't know what you could give me that has to do with that."
"Do you want to be a singer?"
"I would love to be a singer," the light in her eyes died, "but I don't have the voice and I'm pitchy."
"I can't promise that you'll sing like a professional or guarantee you'll stay in tune, but I could give you some books on vocal techniques."
"You could?" The light returned to her eyes.
"Yes, I could give you those books for free."
Melonie swallowed. "I don't really like to read though."
"Yes, but you do like to sing," Hermione noted.
"True."
"And this would help you sing and get better at your favorite hobby."
"I guess but," Melonie shifted her weight from her left foot to her right, "How can a book teach me how to sing? Singing is done with a voice, not a word on a page. It's auditory, not visual."
"It is, but some of the books I sell do an excellent job of explaining vocal techniques."
Melonie blinked.
"I will give you free rein of the store. One strand of hair for one book," Hermione promised.
Melonie hummed and scratched her side.
"I promise, you won't regret reading about singing. You'll learn so much, and will be much better than before you started reading," Hermione continued.
"I might but," she quirked an eyebrow. "You aren't going to do anything illegal with this business associate, are you?"
"No."
"Then why can't you just be yourself? Do you not want your poker buddy to know about him?"
"Why would I care about what my poker buddy knows about him?" Hermione didn't know why her body temperature rose in that moment, but she doubted it was from the lingering heat.
"I don't know. Perhaps you don't want him to think you're with another man. If he knew you were seeing someone else, he may lose interest in you," Melonie noted.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"It means you don't want to lose him because you're interested in him. You don't want him to get the wrong idea, so you're going to be someone else to get through this meeting so you can go back to him and pretend nothing happened."
"Trust me, Severus has nothing to do with this."
"Are you sure? You seem really interested in him not finding out about any of this."
"He already knows I'm going out."
"But he doesn't know who you're going out with, does he?"
"Look," Hermione waved her hand downwards. "We're off-topic."
"I only want to know why you need to be someone else," Melanie argued. "Meeting with a business associate shouldn't be that difficult. I'm not sure why you can't be yourself."
"Because," she exhaled. "Because I'm afraid this business associate will ask me too many questions about Britain."
"Oh," Melonie's eyes softened. "Like ask about that loser Quidditch star ex-boyfriend of yours?"
"Yes," Hermione whispered.
"Geesh, nobody should be asked to talk about their ex all night," Melonie shuddered. "Nor should they have to talk about a war either. I don't know much about what happened in Britain, but I know it was terrible and nobody should've had to go through it."
"So now you understand what I'm worried about."
"I do," Melonie stuck up one finger. "One strand, one book. I want the book by Thursday evening at the latest."
"I can do that."
"Good."
"Oh thank you," Hermione stuck out her hand. "You won't regret this, I promise."
"I won't, but will you?" Melonie shook her hand.
"What do you mean?"
"Being someone else is going to be difficult," Melonie warned as she released Hermione's hand. "You'll have to keep up with a lot of lies. It may be hard to keep track of them all after awhile."
"It's only for one night." Hermione pffted. "I can manage to keep everything straight for one night."
"Okay," Melonie answered. "So long as you can keep track of the lies, and make things right with Severus afterwards."
"Why do you keep bringing up Severus?"
"Because no straight person plays poker as much with someone of the opposite sex if there isn't some romantic interest there."
"Men and women can be platonic friends without sex clouding the issue."
"That's what they said inWhen Harry Met how well that worked out."
"This isn't a muggle movie. Everything will work out," a wave of confidence flooded Hermione.
"Okay," Melonie stepped towards the radio. "I'll give you the hair on Thursday evening."
"And I'll give you the book, and," her voice softened. "Thank you. I really appreciate all this."
"Sure, I just hope it doesn't blow up in your face."
"I'll be fine," Hermione promised. "Severus will be fine too."
"I hope so anyway," Melonie answered.
"I know so."
Melonie licked her lips.
The smile returned to Hermione's face. "See you on Thursday."
"See you then." Melonie push the play button on her radio.
Hermione flinched as Rupert Holmes blasted through the speakers once more.