Well, here's my newest. It's fem!Harry, and don't come flaming about how I didn't warn you, because I did.

Disclaimer: I don't own. Simple as that.

Additional: I might write more in the Charlene!verse later, but that depends on the reaction to this.

"Like hell I'd go with that! She's flat as a Quidditch-pitch, thin as a rake and ugly to boot!" Charlene Black flinched, shrinking, using the books in her arms as a physical shield – she usually didn't care about the comments, but then again, she usually wasn't alone, either – and hurried away. She knew she wasn't considered very beautiful, not even slightly cute, but to hear her classmates, people she'd known for six, going on seven years, hurt more than she was used to. However, she also knew the price she would pay when she decided to keep up the farce, even during school.

The most difficult thing to swallow, though, was the fact that even He, the man she loved, cared too much about outer appearances to ask her to the Easter Charity Ball, much less love her. This was the third ball in as many years that she wouldn't get to go to, and she just couldn't find it in herself to care. It would be nice, if only to prove them wrong, but if she can't go with Him, why go at all?

"Hi, ma'am, here's those books I borrowed last week," she said and carefully placed the books on the counter in front of Madam Pince. The older woman was one of the kindest in school, especially to the social outcasts, as long as you treated her precious books right. The librarian gave her a sharp glance, noting the dried tear tracks and ruffled braid she kept most of her long hair in.

"Are you all right, dear? Did they do something to you again?" Madam Pince knew all about being a social outcast, and she couldn't keep her heart from going out to the thin, unloved girl. She was one of the least popular students in school – a fact that the arrogant young Potter certainly didn't help with. Madam Pince – and Severus Snape – was probably only employees at Hogwarts that didn't think the world of Potter, and in turn, they were really the only ones noticing what a bully the boy was – anyone that didn't immediately suck up to him or anyone who weren't in Gryffindor was free game. The young woman in front of her shook her head and told her she was fine, if a little tired. "And where are the rest of the Rejects, then?" the older woman asked with a knowing look. Charley winced a bit at the name, but told her the truth – they couldn't deal with the ridicule once again today – the masses had been spectacularly nasty during the day, and derogatory comments about the name started by Snape had flown hard and fast. The whole of Hogwarts had adopted that term, because even if derogatory, it was correct - "Charley" Black's ragtag group of friends were the Hogwarts' Rejects, with the loony 'Claw, lonely 'Puff, loyal Slytherins, brainy Gryff, and the disowned Potter.

Pince gave her a sympathetic smile before sending her on her way – she was after all employed at the school, and had to make sure curfew was followed.

Charley made her way towards, not the Gryffindor common room, but the seventh floor corridor. There she paced in front of the wall three times, back and forth, and opened the door that sprung from the wall. The room she entered was large and decorated mostly in purple, with a large banner, done mostly in red and silver, loudly proclaiming the room as "Reject Headquarters". Sprawled on the couches and in front of the fire was four students, all in various states of disorder. Hermione Granger and Blaise Zabini was curled up on one of the sofas, reading the same book and Luna Lovegood along with her boy-toy (her words) Neville Longbottom was sprawled across each-other on the rug in front of the fire.

Charley sighed and gave a quiet greeting as she dropped her book bag to the floor, in the process catching sight of the group's sixth – and final – member sprawled across the other sofa, vibrant red hair clashing horribly with the yellow of the sofa.

"Budge up, Ron. I'd like to have a seat somewhere but the floor." Ron grumbled but did as she asked, knowing that she'd probably had a day slightly more horrible than his and feeling it wasn't worth it to rile her up.

"How'd it go?" Neville had apparently been roused by the thud of her bag, and was now trying to untangle himself from his girlfriend without waking her.

"Oh, y'know, Finnegan proclaimed that he wouldn't go with me if I so was the last female on Earth – well within earshot, as he was well aware, especially considering the exaggerated guffaws of Potter," she said with a derisive snort, well-versed in masking her hurt.

"Hell nah. Where is he? I'll beat his arse black and blue to match the green of his beloved shamrock!" Ron sprang up from the sofa, raring to go, when Hermione's well-timed tripping jinx hit him and he went face-first into the low coffee table. "What'd you do that for? He deserves a good beating for that!" Hermione coolly raised an eyebrow at him, twirling her wand.

"Because if you do, you'll get suspended. That would be the second time this year. And that's not a good idea." Ron deflated, sinking back onto the sofa.

"It's so unfair! Potter's gang get away with murder, and if we step a toe out of line we get suspended! It's not okay. It was better when Professor Lupin still worked here." Ron's statement brought nods all around – the gentle werewolf, married to Charley's godfather had been the most tolerable teacher they'd had – otherwise Pince was the only of the staff on their side.

"There's only a year and some left – who knows, we might be their bosses in ten years! In fact I'll bet on that!" Blaise said, trying to lighten the mood.

"I'll take that bet – how about five Galleons?"

It was a week left to the ball, and the rest of the student body at Hogwarts had, if possible, gotten even worse – now it wasn't just insults that were hurled after the Rejects, but hexes and jinxes, too. Worst, of course, was Potter and his groupies, consisting mostly of the entire sixth year dorm in Gryffindor.

Charley was entertaining the idea of going home over the Easter break, since she'd still not been asked to the ball, and with nine days left, it seemed very unlikely that she'd be going. Her adoptive fathers, Sirius and Remus Black-Lupin, had sent her the evening gown she would've worn had she been asked by Him, but it was still in the tightly sealed box they'd sent it in. She knew that they would like for her to go to the ball, and had promised her they'd come if she went, but not even for them would she go, not without Him, and certainly not stag.

She was sitting in the corner of the library, so far in that, before the Rejects found the place, there'd been no activity at all since the early sixties, when Luna's father had gone to Hogwarts. It was quiet, and a wonderful place to get away from the scornful masses for awhile.

She looked up from her book at the sound of footsteps, and saw Him standing there, and the distant sounds of the school faded away entirely, as her entire being seemed to zero in on His presence. He was smiling, a shy, bashful smile, and holding a bouquet of purple roses.

"Charlene Potter, would you do me the greatest honour of all, and allow me to escort you to the Ball?" She gave a half-strangled squeal, and threw herself into His arms. He caught her, swinging her in circles, before stilling and looking her in the eyes. Their heads got closer and closer, and a millisecond before their lips touched, they both closed their eyes.

"Daddy, Papa, I'm taking the charms off for the ball." They were sitting at the kitchen table, and Charley's meaner side couldn't help but enjoy the looks of shock the three men were wearing. He already knew of her charms, of course, one of the few that did, but He didn't think she'd go that far for the ball. Her fathers, on the other hand, was, after the initial shock, overjoyed. They had been trying to convince her since they adopted her to drop the charms she'd subconsciously put on herself at the orphanage – the owner had a thing for pretty young things, and her magic acted on it's own to fulfil her wish of not being pretty. She, herself, hadn't been aware of the charms until after her third year at Hogwarts, when she'd finally felt safe enough for her magic to drop the charms. After that, she'd kept them on anyway – she didn't want any attention, and she felt that going from, well, ugly to rather pretty would get her attention.

She was standing in front of her full-length mirror, charms off and dressed in the evening gown. Her hair was in a fancy updo, much fancier than she was used to. The gown was deep, deep blue, the exact shade of His eyes, the accompanying shawl the same colour. He came up behind her and wrapped an arm around her waist, and they watched themselves in the mirror for awhile. He was wearing a tuxedo, pretty much forced into it by her fathers, the tie, however, was blue to match her dress.

"You look absolutely stunning. In fact, you're a vision of beauty. This'll show their arses who's beautiful and who's ugly." She smiled and turned her head to kiss Him, enjoying the fact that she now could.

"You clean up nice, yourself, Ron. Very nice indeed." He smiled and tightened his hold on her waist.

The ball was being held at Hogwarts, the Great Hall transformed for the occasion. It now held its very own sweeping staircase, meant for the ladies to show off their robes and dates on. The ministry had insisted on a young clerk to announce the guests – to show off in front of the foreign delegations, and to suck up to the purebloods. The ball, being a charity ball, meant that anyone could come, as log as they bought the tickets. The Hogwarts students were all invited, since the ball was held there.

The ball started at 7, and for half an hour past, there was a veritable who's who of the European Wizarding World. In fact, there was but one name missing: the Blacks.

When almost everybody had arrived, only a few stragglers still remaining outside, the clerk announcing arrivals blew a fanfare – a fanfare signalling that a noble had arrived.

"The honourable Lord Sirius Black, of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, and his spouse, Remus Lupin!" The young man seemed to be almost quaking in his boots, nervous at being in such a close proximity to the notable Lord that turned wizarding elite on its head. Unexpectedly, he blew another fanfare, but seemed to almost swallow the trumpet as the newly appeared names on the scroll registered.

"The fair Lady Charlene Black-Ravenclaw, of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, of the Most Wise and Knowledgeable House of Ravenclaw, and her companion, Heir Ronald Weasley, of the Most Loyal house of Weasley!" The pair halted on the top step, their eyes roving the Hall in front of them, and giving the guests ample time to take in their rather stunning, and contrasting, beauty.

They slowly descended on the stairs, taking their time to come to the bottom. As soon as their feet touched the floor, they were swamped by the rest of the Rejects. All of them looked stunning, and many a boy at that ball regretted any hurtful words uttered to the ladies, as they now were amongst the most beautiful there, the only ones beginning to compare being the ladies sent from the Veela conclave in France.

That evening was only the first night that Charlene Black and her friends shocked the world. Of course, there were many hurtful comments, many hexes hurled and punches thrown afterwards too, but now they seemed to barely glance the six friends, seeming as if they'd come into themselves now.

More importantly for Charley Black, however, was that that night was the first night that she slept in Ron Weasley's bed – the first of many, she desperately hoped.

FIN.