Chapter One
Hermione Granger, the residential Princess of Gryffindor’s “Golden Trio,” was reading in a cozy alcove of the Library in Hogwarts. A pleasant Sunday afternoon had the warm sun streaming in through the windows, and the Library's silence came from the fact that everyone was outside or in the common rooms. No one studied in the Library on Sunday. No one but Hermione Jean Granger. For her, she had built herself up with intelligence and grace, and through her prowess and ambition, as Ravenclaw and Slytherin as that may sound, she had maintained the title of a Know-it-all, as insufferable as she might be to some. This, she was proud of. She never faltered at the insult, nor did she become flustered that intelligence could possibly make her less attractive. No, she was delighted that so many felt threatened by her superior intellect that they felt the need to resort to childish name-calling.
...name-calling...there was a name, Mudblood. She hadn’t been too fond of it the first few times she’d heard it. While being an Insufferable Know-It-All was a slight towards her being intelligent, Mudblood was a slight towards her non-magical heritage. That the fact that her family line had no magical blood in it determined her own Magical competence, she was better skilled than anyone in her year and many others in years above her. She wasn’t called the Brightest Witch of her year for nothing, she thought. Sitting down a book of beautification spells and slimming charms, tricks for a trick of a girl, she thought. Still, her mind wandered. She recalled the Nature and Nurture Debate that was first recognized by Sir Francis Galton, a well-known psychologist in 1869. Though, it was unclear who initially described the impact of genes and biology versus environmental influences. Then she thought about Charles Darwin’s 1859 publication On the Origin of Species by Means of Natural Selection, which synthesized much previous work on the theory of evolution, including that of Herbert Spencer, who’d coined the phrase Survival of the Fittest in 1864 after having read Charles Darwin’s publication.
Her brown eyes trailed over a sentence in another opened book that lay beside the large tomb of glamor spells. Asking whether your personality is more a product of your genes or your environment is like asking whether the area of a field is more the result of its length or its width. An analogy may help: Genes and environment – Nature and Nurture – work together like two hands clapping. She stared at the sentence and ran it over a few times in her head. Finally, after a few moments of silent pondering, she was pulled from her thoughts by the sound of a chair dragging across the wood floors of the library where she’d held herself up since early that morning. She lifted her head and watched as a familiar platinum-haired boy in her year stretched and yawned before waving his wand and putting the books he’d been reading away. She wasn’t even sure of when he’d arrived in the library or how long he’d been there. Staring quite obviously, she watched him lean forward and lift his bag from the ground before he lifted his eyes to meet hers. A finely arched brow and cocky smirk made themselves known as he walked over to her and looked down at her huddled form.
“What are you doing inside on a day like this, Granger? Weasel and Potter finally realize that you only drag them down?” He laughed.
Hermione stared unblinkingly at him as if she was thinking of something and lost in her thoughts, causing him to stop his heavy laughter and frown. He took in her concentrated look and turned his eyes to the books on the table, “oh, this is rich! The Mudblood wants to make herself look pretty!”
Hermione chuckled, “that’s sad, Malfoy, you’ve run out of good insults. Maybe daddy can buy you some new ones?”
His cheeks flushed, and he made for walking away when she called out to him to sit down. “Why would I do that?!”
She shrugged, “I need help, and you are exactly the person who can help me.”
“...I’ve bullied you for nearly six years, and you think I’d be willing to help you?” He couldn’t contain the laughter that bubbled up from his chest. Taking a seat, he was pink-cheeked and flustered from the mere thought of extending a hand to the Muggle-born Genius. It was truly a treat, “in what way would you need my help, Granger?”
She looked over the books, and her fingers brushed over a margin, “This survival of the fittest, which I have here sought to express in mechanical terms, is that which Mr. Darwin has called 'natural selection,' or the preservation of favored races in the struggle for life.” She pulled her finger from the passage and looked back to Draco, “in this case, you would be the favored race. Pureblood, intelligent, quick-witted, and cunning, with money and looks to boot. Your last name carries you through Wizarding Society, and your Genetics will carry you through life.”
Smirking, Draco nodded his head as he listened to her; all good praise, all...good...praise.
“I, on the other hand, am Muggle Born, a Mudblood. I am intelligent, certainly, but I’m average in looks, and despite my quick-wit and semi-cunning persona, I do not have a name and the funds to carry me through Society and Life.”
“If you are looking to get hitched, Granger, then you are looking in the wrong place.”
She rolled her eyes, “marry you? Not if you were the last wizard on Earth.” She sighed, “no, what I need from you, is your more fashionable skills.”
Raising a brow, he tilted his head a bit as he eyed her in wonderment and slight confusion. “you...want me...to make you look good?” He shook his head, “why? Why me?”
She looked thoughtfully at him, and after a few seconds, she closed her eyes and sighed, “I am under the impression that by simply changing my look, I can better expand my social environment, though this book leads to the pressing matter of personality change with drastic environmental and apparel change. I dare say the risk is there. I’d like to think of it as a Social Experiment...though I may alienate myself from my house, I want to see if the way I look, the way I dress and carry myself, could change the way Slytherin House acts around me. If my appearance is more important than my Social and Familial upbringing.”
“Why ask me, though? I hear what you are saying, and while I’m curious to see if my house could toss aside their hatred for Gryffindor and Mudbloods with a well-organized appearance, doubtful that may be, I can’t fathom why you’d ask me.”
“Who else knows better, social elitist standards and fashion? Also...you can afford to fund my experiment.”
“Ha! Right...what do I get out of this? So far, what I’m hearing is, you want me to doll you up, teach you how to act and carry yourself, make you socially desirable, and of course, pay for this experiment out of my own pocket. What’s in it for me?”
“Anything you want, Malfoy. Name it.”
Silence fell, and she waited patiently as he looked thoughtfully at the books. She watched as he contemplated what she was asking. The reason she couldn’t go to Harry or Ron, Ginny, or anyone else in Gryffindor was simply that they were too rowdy a house to understand the refinement of the elitist’s social circles. Did she think she needed to do this? No... no, she didn’t. However, she did believe that it would prove entertaining for her last year at Hogwarts, and who knew, she could come out of this experience on top. Gaining more than what she could possibly lose.
“I’ll do it.”
“What is it you want in return?” She had expected him to lead with that, honestly.
“I will think about it, but for now, I will help you and let you know later when I’ve decided. We’ll consider it a debt until then.”
Hermione frowned, not liking at all the way that sounded, but he’d stood up and offered her a hand before she could argue with him. She eyed it curiously.
“Granger,” he frowned, “take my hand.”
“Malfoy, I need no help in standing,” she made to stand up only to be pushed back down.
“Your lessons start now, Granger. When a gentleman moves to assist you, don’t argue with them or try to find a flaw with simple etiquette. Just accept it.”
She looked up into his greyish blue eyes and fumed silently as she took his left hand, accepting the help as he guided her forward. Taking her bookbag and waving the books on the table off with his wand, he gently took her hand and guided it to his right arm, which he’d bent inward. Guiding her hand so that her fingers curled delicately around his offered arm. “This...”
“It’s common courtesy and basic etiquette, Miss. Granger.”
“...Miss?”
He smirked, “shall we?”
She wasn’t sure of what she’d just started or how it would fair for her, but Hermione Granger knew one thing for sure. She couldn’t back out now. “...as you were.” She said calmly, calmer than the fluttering of her heart that seemed terrified by the dramatic change of her six-year strong bully, going on seven. “You are far more acceptable to this role than I thought you’d be.”
Draco shrugged his shoulders a bit, “I’m curious. I won’t say anything to the Slytherins should they ask me about your sudden change...as...I want to see how they react too. Will Hermione Granger be able to steal the eyes and respect of Slytherin House? Or will they scorn you for your attempt? Whatever happens, I’ll be there all the while.”
She brought her free hand to her heart, gently tapping it against her heart, she whispered softly in her head. It’s all okay...this will be okay...we will be okay. Her little prayer to shake her nerves worked well enough as she was guided to...the Head Boy and Head Girls room...of course, she’d not thought of that.
“It will be easier to do this since you and I are Heads. Tonight, I’ll teach you some basics of etiquette and social mannerisms in elitist circles. As for your looks and clothes, well...I will take care of that. Just get me your measurements. Thankfully, it’s only the second week back; we have plenty of time.”
“When will you help me with the look?” She asked as they stopped at her door, her eyes nervously on the knob as she opened it.
“Give me a week to work with you on the way you carry yourself...then come Monday morning next week, I will have you looking like a pureblood witch of the highest standards. You have my word as a Malfoy,” he bowed dramatically, letting her hand fall gently to her side. “I’m going to my room for a moment, figure out your measurements, and I will take care of everything else.” With one last jolt of mannerisms from him, he swept her hand in his, bowed his head to her knuckles, and as his eyes met hers, he kissed her knuckles gently before standing straight and returning to his room.
Hermione felt heat rising to her cheeks, and once again, she found herself thinking if this was a good idea.