Hermione Granger and the Sixth Year Makeover

But as she reached the classroom and saw who was at the podium, her heart stopped.

But of course, she thought. Who else? Serves me right for missing the first night's feast. I never even thought about who they'd got to teach Defence this year.

Remus Lupin grinned and beckoned her into the classroom.

Harmony ran.

She couldn't stand to go back to her dorm and deal with Draco. She didn't want to deal with anyone, in fact. She headed for the Astronomy tower, which was only used at night.

When had her life begun to spin out of control? When had she started to feel as if she'd been plucked from her real life and inserted into some high school English teacher's worst nightmare? How could all the potential problems of adolescence have been heaped upon one girl? And on top of that, finding out her real father was a man she hated, and her real mother was... She couldn't bring herself to say it, even to herself.

Think, Granger. This didn't all just come out of nowhere. What was the first thing that went wrong? She thought of the death of her father. It seemed distant and unreal. She tried to remember getting the news... she couldn't. But she must have. She knew he died when... wait, how did he die? Why couldn't she remember? The harder she thought, the less she remembered.

Harmony allowed herself a few tears of frustration, and ended up crying until she fell asleep. Her last waking thought was that getting the belly-button ring had been exceedingly stupid.

The Hogwarts Express screeched to a stop at Platform 9 ¾, jolting Hermione awake. She looked around groggily. Nothing unusual - Harry and Ron were throwing food at each other, and Ginny was pretending to ignore them. Why did Hermione feel as if she hadn't seen them in ages?

"Sleep well?" asked Ron, seeing that she was awake.

"Not really. I had the oddest dream. You were in it... and you ... and you ..." she said, looking from Ron to Harry to Ginny. They didn't notice.

"Takes her prefect duties too seriously, this one," said Ron. "You don't see me exhausted and falling asleep on the train."

"Prefect!" said Hermione. "That's right, I'm a prefect! Not Head Girl!"

Now they looked at her. "Head girl?" said Ron. "Why would you be Head Girl? You've only just finished your fifth year. And why would they even announce Head Girl and Boy on the way home?"

"Must've been the dream..." she mumbled.

Just then the door slammed open. "Everybody out!" shouted Draco Malfoy. "Well, the Mudblood's in a hurry," he remarked, as Hermione fled the compartment. Ron said something obscene and elbowed Malfoy on the way out, and Harry and Ginny followed his example.

Hermione heard none of it - she was already on the platform, scanning the crowd for her parents. When she spotted them she ran and hugged both of them at once.

"You've gotten taller!" said her father. "But what have you done to your hair?"

"My hair? Nothing. Mussed form sleeping on the train, I expect."

"No, not that," said her mother. "It looks a little bit... purplish."

Hermione had read about people feeling faint, but she hadn't been sure what that really meant until know. "It's... probably just the light in here. Can we go please?"

Her father picked up her trunk. "Sure darling. Oh, we've had the most wonderful letter from Professor Dumbledore - you're going to be Head Girl next year!"

Years later, in the psychiatric ward of St. Mungo's, Hermione's head Girl letter hung on the wall over her bed, although it'd had to be adhered by magic since Hermione kept trying to tear it down.

When Remus Lupin came to visit her, she screamed and cowered. She couldn't tell anyone why, though; all she ever said, all she could say, was "No marmalade. No marmalade."

THE END