Brave New Girl

****************A/N*****************
This story is set during Hermione's seventh year, though it is not HBP or DH-compliant except in the Dumbledore's-Dead kinda way (and not in the Snape-killed-him kinda way). The story is not set in the "accepted" timeline, as I view HP as entirely timeless, therefore there may be some pop culture and/or song references that do not fit what some people choose to think of the time when Harry and the others would have been at Hogwarts. If this is a problem for you, stop reading now.

****************DISCLAIMER***********
I do not own any of these characters or settings and make no money from writing these stories. In fact, I probably lose money by thinking of this stuff instead of work. JK Rowling owns all recognizable Harry Potter characters, settings, spells, etc. The song "Crazy in Love" belongs to B. Knowles, R. Harrison, S. Carter, and E. Record, and is performed by Beyonce Knowles and Jay-Z.
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Brave New Girl
Chapter One:
Crazy In Love


Humming happily to herself was not something Hermione Granger would normally have done. In fact, it was something she probably would have been more than a tad annoyed by someone else doing and one of the many, many habits she found infuriating about Luna Lovegood, but today she simply could not help herself. She was victorious. The Dark Lord was dead, Professor Snape's name had been cleared, Harry was alive and dating Ginny again, school was back in session, and she had somehow convinced the Headmistress to allow a Valentine's Day ball.

Oh, yeah. And she was in love. She smiled and almost giggled to herself as she thought about him now. Won-Won... Thankfully, she didn't have the same penchant for pet names Lavender had; Ron probably would have killed her within a week if she'd ever seriously called him that. It was a fun way to take the mickey out of him, though. Whenever their lives were getting just a little boring, she'd call him Won-Won, and one of two things would happen. It would either start a fight or Ron would pounce on her in his genuinely graceless style. Either way, she usually ended up getting laid.

Hermione felt the red crawl up her face as she thought about that. When had prim and proper, fact-obsessed Hermione Granger gone from thinking about it as "having sex" (She had never been able to make herself say or think the term "making love." It sounded like a cheesy romance novel or something her grandmother would say) to "getting laid?" She'd never had sex before Ron, and she'd truly never even wanted to, but she'd still considered it a special thing. Maybe the excess of it with Ron was turning her into a wanton... She smirked again. Yeah, right. Hermione Granger, the slut. It was a fun idea, but one that-

SLAM!

Hermione was shaken out of her revery by a very pale, very long hand slamming onto the desk in front of her. Hermione scrunched her eyes awaiting whatever tongue-lashing was inevitable when the Potions Master caught a student being happy. I've done it now...

"And what, pray tell, is so amusing as to make the Head Girl giggle and sing during what is supposed to be a period of silent study?" Professor Severus Snape stood snarling above her. Hermione had been glad when the truth about Dumbledore's murder had come out and Professor Snape's name had been cleared. She'd never believed him capable of murder, and she was somewhat vindicated that the Ministry had proved Harry and Ron's Snape-as-the-root-of-all-evil theory wrong once and for all. But she sure couldn't stand him as a teacher. Wait. Scratch that. He was a remarkable teacher. She'd learned loads from him over the years. It was him as a person she couldn't stand, and she thought she'd be well shut of him for her last year. Unfortunately, Headmistress Minerva McGonagall had invited him back. It was going to be a long, long year.

Hermione turned her rapidly paling face to her professor and gave him a somewhat apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry, sir. It won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't," he snapped. "Or I have a feeling that your upcoming night of, as Professor McGonagall would put it, well-mannered frivolity, may just have to be cancelled." Hermione's eyes went wide. He wouldn't dare! He knew that the Valentine's Day ball was her baby- an idea she'd posed to the headmistress at the beginning of the school year and nurtured and developed to its current stage of pre-production. Valentine's Day was a week away, and though she'd consented, McGonagall was still having second thoughts about holding it. Too many students had been inhibited for far too long during Voldemort's reign of terror, and the last thing the Headmistress needed was a chance for all of them to let loose at the same time. She did not need an excuse for spiked punch, dirty dancing, and, Merlin forbid, a surge of names being added to the list of potential Hogwarts students who would start in about eleven years and nine months. At the opening of the school year, Minerva had promised the parents of the student body that their children would all be safe and secure once more under Hogwarts' roof. She had pointed out to Hermione that she had meant that "safe" included children not being debauched, but Hermione had eventually persuaded her. There had been no formal victory party when Voldemort had been defeated, at least for the school-age witches and wizards, and Hermione had begged and pleaded with the Headmistress to allow one night- just one night- for the students to be free. McGonagall had eventually consented, and had never even suspected that Hermione's real reasoning for wanting this dance was that for an entire school year she would be stuck in shapeless black robes and dull gray skirts and jumpers, looking exactly like every other girl at Hogwarts. Hermione needed a way to remind Ron why he had fallen in love with her. And a way to prove all of the boys who'd ever thought her bookish and unappealing wrong.

As Snape strode away from her to torment some other unsuspecting student daydreaming during study hall, Hermione's thoughts once again fluttered to her ball. And it was hers. She was solely responsible for the decorations, the music, the food... and the control freak in her was loving every minute of it. Sure, she would complain to Ron late in the evening as he sprawled on the couch in her private, Head Girl's quarters, but in all honesty there was nothing she didn't like about being completely in charge. Everything was up to her, right down to whether to use pink or red napkins, and the control was exhilarating. She smiled once again and recommenced humming. It was a cute song she'd heard on the Muggle radio, fun and upbeat. She hadn't even realized she'd begun singing words under her breath until she felt a quick rap on the back of her head with what felt like an unabridged copy of Hogwarts: A History.

Before she could say "Ow" Professor Snape was hovering over her.

"Miss Granger, as you cannot seem to sit still, I have no other choice than to ask you to leave!"

"But sir!" What was going on? She'd never been kicked out of class before. True, this was only a free period she'd volunteered to spend in the library as an extra authority figure, but she was the Head Girl, after all. What kind of example would she be setting?

In her confusion, she didn't even notice him snapping her books shut and shoving her bag toward her.

"Out, Miss Granger, before I tell the Headmistress that the Valentine's Day ball is already taking its toll on the students' concentrative faculties!"

Not needing any cue but that, Hermione quickly gathered her things and left the library. Besides, Ron had a free period now, too, and was probably waiting for her in her rooms. Some things would never change, and she still could not pay him to spend his free time in the library. Studying was something she had never convinced him to appreciate, but now that she'd been kicked out little over ten minutes into the class period, she definitely had activities other than studying planned.

Maybe she'd even call him Won-Won...

Hermione practically skipped up the stairs, expertly dodging Peeves, and singing to herself again. She had come to the bridge of the song as she entered her rooms and happily did a very stiff, very British little dance. Got me looking so crazy, my baby... Ron was nowhere to be seen in her little sitting room, but Hermione was only concerned for a moment. Quidditch had definitely been taking its toll lately, and he'd been spending a lot more time sleeping (and though she knew it was for his health, Hermione couldn't help feeling jealous. He'd been spending less and less time with her as the season continued); maybe he was taking a nap. Or even better, awake and waiting for her in her bed. But as she approached her bedroom, a very odd feeling came over her. There was no noise coming from behind her door. To someone not as naturally skeptical as Hermione, this might have seemed normal. After all, if there was no one in there or Ron was sleeping, there wouldn't be much noise, would there? But what was making Hermione worry was the lack of any noise. No breathing, no rain against her window, not even Crookshanks' mewing. It was almost as if someone had put up a silencing spell.

Adrenaline kicked in as Hermione's mind raced. What if there were Death Eaters in there? Sure, they'd thinned out after the war. Most were in Azkaban, and some had played the Imperius card again, but for the faithful remnants, what could be better than to capture the Mudblood Granger, widely considered to be the brains behind the Boy-Who-Lived? What if they were in there and had put up the silencing spell? And what if Snape really was a Death Eater and not a spy? He could have set the whole thing up! Throwing her out of class after letting his cronies in, and then sending her, unsuspecting, up to her rooms to her demise!

Get a hold of yourself, Hermione!

Taking a deep breath, Hermione's fantasies of a Death Eater attack fluttered away until she could at last concentrate on the more plausible scenarios more fully. It's probably just Ron, she told herself, though she kept her wand at the ready. It's just Ron, and he didn't want anyone to hear him snoring. Though Hermione would have been the only one able to hear him... No, the silencing spell didn't make any sense, and the knot in Hermione's stomach was steadily tightening.

Enough, Granger! Go in there and find out what's going on!

Hermione took one more deep breath and slowly approached the door. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously as she tried the knob. Who puts up a silencing spell but doesn't lock the door? Yes, signs were definitely pointing to Ron. His ineptitude was the stuff of legend, and she sincerely doubted he'd have survived even first year without her. Sighing, she opened the door with a caution and lack of speed that would have driven Harry mad and carefully stepped into the darkened room.

And screamed.

There, naked and writhing on her bed was Ron- her Ron! About his presence, she'd been completely correct. However, she would never, in a million years, have suspected what she saw next.

Pansy Parkinson.

Equally naked.

And riding Hermione's boyfriend.

In Hermione's bed.

It was more than Hermione could take, and she screamed again wordlessly, almost feral. For once in his life, Ron had figured out a way to keep Hermione from prattling on and on. Unfortunately, the wordless, high-pitched alternative was not quite as entertaining as he could have hoped. From his place on the bed, Ron had finally noticed this new visitor and his eyes went wide at the sight of her face, red with fury.

"'Mione, please!" he begged, shoving Pansy (who at least had the decency to look embarrassed) off of the bed. "It's not what you-" But Ron never had the chance to finish the lame excuse. Above him, a candle that had been burning peacefully exploded, dumping hot wax all over his naked chest. He howled in pain, but on the other side of the bed, another candle burst. Pansy was cowering in a corner, covering herself with the pile of fabric that, when used properly, was her school uniform.

"Hermione, wait!"

On her bedside table, a framed photo of Harry, Ron, & Hermione from third year shattered into a thousand pieces. Next was her mirror, then the ink well on her desk. Finally, following Hermione's only word, the draperies around and above her bed burst into flames.

"OUT!"

Too afraid to disobey, a still-naked Ron and Pansy ran from Hermione's bedroom. Soon their clothes were hurtling toward them, and the heavy wooden door to the Head Girl's quarters was flung open just as the door to her bedroom was slammed shut. Hurriedly pulling on his pants before any passing students could catch him in his birthday suit, Ron managed only a weak "Bloody hell" as the poker from Hermione's hearth began to rattle menacingly. Grabbing Pansy's wrist and fleeing to the comparative safety of the Gryffindor Common Room, Ron didn't even look when he heard Hermione's door slammed shut behind him and heard her screams of rage ring throughout the entire tower.

Again, he could only mutter.

"Bloody hell."

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