The Collarbone's Spell

"If you look for perfection, you'll never be content."

― Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina.

CHAPTER ONE

Pleasantly Plump

-Hermione-

HERMIONE NEVER CONSIDERED herself to be a superficial person.

su•per•fi•cial adjective \ˌsü-pər-ˈfi-shəl\ : to be overly concerned with one's outward appearance

No, Hermione's thoughts were otherwise occupied by just that- thoughts. She secretly prided herself on possessing a great intellect, spending her time focusing on exercises of the mind and not of the body. Or she had, at least, until one evening in the Gryffindor common room.

"I'd definitely shag her, yeah."

Hermione's eyes flashed upwards from her worn copy of A History of Magic, glowering at the two second-year boys, who were none-too-discretely eyeing Lavender Brown laying across the sofa, her slender and shapely frame on display for the entire common room.

"Whaddaya think? She's at least an 8, yeah?" The second-year prodded his friend with his wand. The other boy wrinkled his nose up and shook his head, crudely.

"Nah, I'd give her a 7.5, tops."

"Oh, but look at that pair, mate, blimey-"

Hermione had heard enough. She abruptly stood up from her chair and marched over to them.

"Excuse me, but do you mind continuing your misogynistic and crude appraisal of women's bodies elsewhere? I'm not sure if you're aware of this, but this is a school, not the state fair, and some of us are actually trying to study." Her voice had risen to an embarrassingly shrill pitch, and the common room had gone deadly silent.

"…and don't poke each other with your wands, for Merlin's sake." She finished, somewhat lamely, before turning and heading up to the girls' dormitory.

"But we are studying…" She heard one of them protest.

"Yeah…human anatomy, that is." The other one finished, before they both burst into snickers behind her.

"Boys, boys, please." Hermione froze on the stairs when she Lavender's soft voice cooing from the sofa. "You have to remain sensitive to other girls who may not have the same, well, assets, as some of us.

The boys sniggered again at the mention of "assets". "Yeah, I reckon she's just a bit peeved, 'cause, she's you know…"

"Plump." Lavender finished firmly. "Hermione is pleasantly plump."

Hermione fled to the bathroom, a growing lump forming in her throat. When the door clicked shut behind her, she sank against it, attempting to push the incident out of her mind.

Pleasantly plump…what, in Merlin's name, could Lavender mean by such a statement? Of course, she was certainly aware that she didn't possess the miniscule waste, ample breasts and hourglass figure of girls like Lavender…but that didn't mean…she couldn't be…no. A quick peek in the mirror ought to assure of her healthy, but by no means "plump" body.

Hermione swallowed the lump, sniffled once, and face the mirror. Her eyes were immediately drawn to her jumper, the fabric of which was wrinkled up slightly at her stomach. She instinctively started to straighten it, and gasped. The fabric was bunched up because of her stomach.

Panic beginning to set in, Hermione quickly and rapidly stripped herself of all her clothing, carelessly tossing it aside until she was stark naked. Then, she whirled around to face the mirror once more, examining and scrutinizing herself.

Flaws leapt out at her, each one a stinging slap to her ego. Protruding stomach like that of a pregnant woman. Thighs like thick, fat logs. Sagging, drooping breasts like cow udders. Arms with flabby, wing-like undersides. Skin, pockmarked with scars and spots. Jiggling, lose flesh everywhere…all pointing to one horrendous, shocking, repulsive realization….

A million and one thoughts were roiling in her head. How has this happened? When had it happened? And how had she let this happen? One thought, in particular, however, took up most of the space in Hermione's mind. She wasn't plump. No. She, Hermione Granger, was Fat, with a capital "F". And at that moment, despite her great intellect and generally practical mind, she could think of nothing worse.

Su•per•fi•cial adjective \ˌsü-pər-ˈfi-shəl\ : to be overly concerned with one's outward appearance

A/N: Whoo! That concludes chapter one. Just a note: This definition of "superficial" was made up by me to fit the needs of the story. Please keep in mind that a distorted frame of mind has already clouded Hermione's judgment. Reviews would be lovely, and constructive criticism is much appreciated! Thank you! =)

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. All characters belong to J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., Bloomsbury, and Scholastic, respectively. All original characters are products of the author, as is the premise and plot. Copyright infringement is not intended and I make no money from posting this story.