Misunderstood Maledictions | Tomione

The Past and Future Head Girl

Outwardly, she didn't phase in the least as she sat, upper body still poised halfway over the desk, her chin nestled in her cupped hand, her interested eyes never leaving Dippet's expectant face. Frowning slightly, she theatrically mulled over the proposition. "Well, that is a rather large commitment..."

Inwardly, she was about to burst in excitement. The odds of getting to be Head Girl... two years in a row... Who ever got to repeat the once in a lifetime opportunity of being Head Girl?

Dumbledore, you are a god.

"But I'll take it," she finished decisively, trying to hide the suspiciously Draco-like smirk that was dangerously threatening to burst across her face.

Oh, the games had most definitely just begun.

7: 18 P.M.

"Harriman, Alice?"

... "RAVENCLAW!"...

Waves of scattered applause.

"Jules, Godfrey?"

"Godfrey?" Ron cackled delightedly from a dimly lit side alcove off the Head's table of the Great Hall. He was impatiently hovering near the thin slab of wood separating Hermione, Harry, Ginny, Draco, Lavender, and himself from the entire Hogwarts population, peeking through a gap in the doorway. "I might die of mortification before I walked around with that god-awful name... Lav, what are you doing?"

"I'm working," Lavender replied crossly. She had already uttered a dodgy-sounding darkening spell on Hermione's hair. Now she studied the new Head Girl critically before pointing her wand straight at Hermione's face and muttering, "Cabria solus." Involuntarily whimpering, Hermione watched, feeling sick, as the top of her originally creamy coloured hands visibly turned several shades darker, and she could only assume that the rest of her body had followed suit.

Ron chuckled again as the Sorting Hat's thunderous bellow of "HUFFLEPUFF!" clearly reached even the side room. "Ooooo, and he's in Hufflepuff, too, poor chap..."

Lavender stepped back, clasping her hands together in front of her as she gravely examined her masterpiece. Hermione, on the other hand, waited apprehensively, holding her breath. Sweet Merlin, what was I thinking letting Lavender do magic on me? her mind screamed in absolute dismay, waiting for Harry or Ron or Ginny or Draco to take one look at her and run in the opposite direction.

Her friend finally grinned in approval, however, and nodded cheerfully, gestures which Hermione didn't exactly find reassuring. "All right, Hermy, you're ready!" she proclaimed with a little clap of her hands, looking beyond pleased with herself.

As soon as the words crossed Lavender's lips, Draco pointedly caught the now-tanned brunette's gaze, theatrically widened his eyes, and covered his face with a hand. With his other, he reached out and grabbed Harry's arm, yanking the dark-haired boy away from Ginny and to his side. "Evans, save me from the thing!" he wailed.

Hermione gave him a withering look. "Oh, why don't you go hide yourself in a corner, ferret," she snapped waspishly, vehemently lifting one now dark chocolate curl off her shoulder and holding it in front of her face to examine it.

"Hermione, ignore the prat. You look really, really nice," Ginny said sincerely, coming up beside Harry and examining Hermione herself. "I'm serious, you do. You could definitely pass as Egyptian, and you look beautiful," she insisted warmly when Hermione dropped the curl back to her shoulder and looked over at her with a very doubtful expression.

"Gin's right, Mione," Harry said with a critical nod. "You look brilliant. Not that you didn't before, but... Probably good enough to catch even Voldemort's eye, if he had a heart," he joked dryly. He shook his arm out of Draco's grip and looked at him sternly. "Du Lac, tell Hermione that she looks really nice."