Hermione couldn't believe the nerve of him! How dare he act like nothing had happened? Like he hadn't invaded her privacy and watched her for those long weeks? In the guise of a damn mutt, nonetheless!
She fumed over her scotch on the rocks as Narcissa stroked her hair soothingly; over the years, she'd grown closer with Narcissa, Pansy and several other Slytherin girls. "I can't believe the nerve of him!" she hissed angrily, her hands clenching and unclenching. She really wished he were here so she could punch him in the face. She downed her scotch and felt it burn down her throat; tears blurred her eyes at the intense, prickling heat the drink left behind.
When she called for another drink, Narcissa shook her head, blonde hair tickling Hermione's cheek. "You shouldn't drink so much," mused the Slytherin woman, silvery eyes fixed on Hermione's figure.
Hermione shifted. She knew she wasn't willowy like Ginny and Narcissa or curvy like Daphne or Astoria but there was something about the look in Narcissa's eyes that made the Gryffindor Princess nervous; it was like she could see through Hermione's old fisherman's sweater and knee-length skirt.
"A makeover," breathed the blonde suddenly. Her breath was sweet like mints. Or maybe it was the gum that she'd been chewing all night.
A burst of laughter made Hermione wince as pain pounded through her brain. "What?"
"A makeover. Get you new clothes that don't make you look like a boy. Fix up your hair." Narcissa's grinning face made the girl nervous.
"I'm not really—"
"Harry will be there."
Ever since Harry and Draco got married, Hermione hadn't been able to see either of them without the screaming babies. "Fine." She dug around in her pocket to find some change, threw it down, and slammed down her last scotch of the night. Bleary-eyed, she turned to Narcissa and said, in a raspy voice, "I better not regret this."
The older woman's grin spelled trouble in all caps.
The aroma of coffee and sweet treats made Hermione relax as Narcissa plotted ways to tame Hermione's wild hair with Pansy over scones.
"I want cookies," Harry said, his bright green eyes staring pointedly at the sweets display under the counter.
"I'm going with him." Snatching up her purse, the witch weaved through the moderately busy crowd and caught up to the young man.
"Triple chocolate chip, 'Mione. Did you know they made them?" When he looked up at her, she was struck by how child-like he was.
Laughing, she messed up his hair. "No," she admitted as she tried to figure out which sweets—and not how many calories were in each—she wanted. "I'll pay. Do you think the girls want some?" A quick glance over her shoulder at Pansy, Narcissa, Astoria, Millicent said no.
"Excuse me," muttered a voice behind her as someone bumped into her.
"Oh, hey," Harry said with a big grin and Hermione turned. Heat rushed to her cheeks as she stared up at Snape. His hair was brushed into a ponytail and he wore a simple grey shirt tucked into his black jeans. Hermione noted he had wiry muscles but still, his arms weren't that scrawny. She really wouldn't mind him crushing her against his chest or holding her against a wall—A sharp shake of her head dispersed the silly little lust-ridden thoughts from her brain. Clearing her throat, she ordered her sweets, Harry ordered several and she paid.
"It's good to see you," the Boy Who Lived continued happily, taking a bite of his cookie.
Snape made a sound as Hermione bit into a brownie. She turned her head towards the table and felt Snape's eyes on her—or, more precisely, her bum.
"Hermione, we figured out what to do. First—oh, hello, Severus." Pansy kept her voice politely pleasant.
"Hello, Miss Parkinson." He reached over Hermione's head—she saw his Dark Mark, that horrible gaunt skull and flickering snake moving—and took his coffee cup. Something flickered in his eyes and his mouth tightened in a displeasured line at her. "It was nice seeing you." Snape turned and walked towards the door; Hermione took the opportunity to admire his butt.
"I want to talk to you about something." Harry scampered after the Potions Master and Pansy whistled through her teeth, her slanted eyes fixed on the two men's backs.
"The sexual tension is almost too thick," she mused. Hermione choked viciously on her bite of brownie.
"What the hell—"
A smirk rose on the dark-haired woman's lips. "Don't deny it," she snickered, "everyone knows you two have got the hots for each other." The only answer Hermione gave was cramming the rest of her brownie into her mouth and strutting back to the table with her head held high.
Pansy chuckled behind her.
"Ow!" Hermione shrieked as the comb yanked at her thick, curly hair. "Are you sure this is going to work?" she asked, very close to tears.
Millicent nodded. "It's what I do to my hair," said the biracial girl, tugging at a strand of curly black hair.
"Okay," Hermione relented, and settled back into the chair and made a minimum of two attempts to run out of the house to cry for several weeks.
Millicent was combing through her wet hair, adding some hair curling gel to help the frizz and overall mass of her hair. "Thank you guys for doing this," Hermione whispered, feeling tears prickle her eyes.
Pansy grinned as she painted Hermione's toenails black and red. "Don't worry. You'll get that tight piece of tail in no time!" Hermione choked on her saliva while laughing and Daphne shrieked in joy.
Daphne and Astoria were going through Hermione's wardrobe, throwing out anything they didn't like. Which meant basically everything Hermione felt comfortable wearing in public.
"I just want to feel, urm, you know," Hermione explained quietly, trying to keep the cheer in her voice as she remembered Ron's reaction to the scars on her body during one of their make out sessions, the look of disgust dominating his freckled face, the shock and disdain in his nasally voice as he told her to put her shirt back on.
"You are, honey," said Millicent as she kissed Hermione's forehead. With the sensation of Millicent's chapped lips on her forehead, predominantly maternal, she relaxed and let the girls fix her up. Hopefully, she didn't look like Barbie Gone Hooker.
She was really in trouble, especially when Narcissa came in with bags of bras and panties and stockings.
"Let the makeover officially begin!"