"No one's perfect, Hun." He told her
"I know,' the little girl said. 'But I want to be the closest thing to it."
"And what's that?"
"Skinny."

The Big Sunglasses Lady is snapping into her cell phone at a tone one notch under a screech as I approach.

"Excuse me...ma'am? Do you know what you'd like to order?"

Still barking into her Blackberry she glances at the menu and then, covering the mouth piece for a moment, rattles off her order.

"Herbal tea- no milk, no sugar. Garden salad-hold the cheese, croutons, and dressing," and then goes back to her conversation without even sparing me a look.

People these days. I grip my wand that's hidden under my waitresses apron for comfort, I did not know taking a Muggle job would be so stressful. I mean seriously, I'm Hermione Granger; this should be cake compared to what I've been through the last six action packed years of my life. Unsurprisingly, my parents were the ones who pushed for me to look for a job, and I guess I understand their desire to have me around and part of what they would call a normal life.

Rushing back to the kitchen I placed the order and walked out to serve other tables, thankful that I'd finally worn sensible tennis shoes for all the time I spend on my feet.
Coming back with another few orders to the kitchen I wiped my hands on the back of my uniforms skirt wrinkling my nose at the 6 year old who decided my tip would be much better at the bottom of a nearly empty glass of orange juice. I grabbed Big Sunglasses Lady's order and balanced it in one hand, careful not to spill the tea. Cautiously placing her meal on the table, I give the standard "Hope you enjoy your meal."

"Yes, yes, tha-" And then she stops. Slowly lowering her sunglasses she looks me over. "Ah, and who are you with?" She asks with seeming interest.

"I'm sorry...?" I answer, my face probably displaying my confusion.

"Who are you signed with? What agency?" She elaborates, getting a tad annoyed.

"I'm sorry, I still don't-" What is she talking about?

"Oh." Realization floods her face, "My dear, my name is Delia, and I must say, you are simply gorgeous" The abrupt change in her persona is rather unsettling, like a savage lion suddenly behaving like a cute little energetic puppy. What is this lady on? She must have read my mind, because she continued

"I work for Elite Models, and I am astounded no one has discovered you yet. Your name darling?"

"Hermione Granger." I respond a bit uncertainly.

"Well, Miss Granger would you be interested in working for me and the Agency?" She asks, as if it were the most wonderful proposition, like getting Christmas once a month.

"Well, I-I" I stutter. I don't have time to model! But perhaps for the summer...it would keep my parents happy, and I'd probably get to travel to all sorts of interesting places. Traveling has always been an interest of mine, my family and I used to travel quite frequently actually.

"Excellent!" she interrupts my train of thought "Howabouts I call up your parents and we can meet and work something out?" Her question doesn't leave much room for refusal so when she asks, I mindlessly list off my phone number. She leaves with a "I'll talk to you soon darling!" and is already back talking on her cellphone not moments after her farewell.

To say my parents were thrilled would be an understatement. Delia must have called them the second she left because by the time I got home from my shift they had already been talking for awhile. After that it was a whirlwind, before I knew it Delia had me booked at a hair stylist, makeup artist, personal shopper. They made short work of my poofy uncontrollable hair, blatant lack of makeup and apparently unacceptable wardrobe. Not one week after I met Delia I was unrecognizable, and on a plane to my first shoot. My hair had been tamed into ringlets, and dyed slightly more brown than it had been by Andy, my energetic and slightly eccentric Italian hair stylist. Elizabeth (stupid, overdone Barbie) had taught me the basics of wearing makeup, as if I didn't already know. And I received a whole bunch of new clothes all picked out by Angela, my personal wardrobe specialist. Out of all of them the only one I had problems with was Elizabeth, her condescending and obviously fake manner bothered me. But Angela, oh, I loved Angela- by the end of our session we were both nearly rolling on the ground laughing at a hideous neon yellow snakeskin vest I had tried on- honestly, who makes this stuff?

Just as I'm about to recline my seat and get some rest on our long flight to a little island about 60 kilometers off the coast of Africa, Delia seats herself next to me and I immediately put on my business face, for some reason feeling the need to let her know I am talking this seriously.

"Now Magnificent 'Mi." Her no nonsense tone makes me sit up straighter in my seat. "We have treated you like the little princess you are, but you have to understand the photographers won't be like that"

"Umm...okay." I am slightly confused at her warning, and wait for her to go on.

"Alright-just making sure your prepared Marvelous 'Mi!" Her now cheerful voice contradicts the semi ominous tone she possessed seconds before, and she flounces off leaving me a bit unsettled. I've faced the most evil wizard of all time, I think I can handle a few rude photographers, I reassure myself. And with that I recline my seat and shut my eyes for the long flight.

AN: I know its short and seems to be moving rather quickly, but I am trying to get through the Intro Stuff as quickly as I can so we can move on to the fun stuff at Hogwarts, seeing as the story wont "officially start" until they get on the train. If you would like me to elaborate more on the model stuff or her fun summer, drop me a review and I can do that!