Disclaimer: This story contains characters created and owned by J.K. Rowling, Aol/Time Warner as well as Scholastic Inc and Bloomsbury Publishing. No profit is being made from these stories and no copyright infringement is intended. I have used personalities from actual reality shows and changed their names slightly. I mean no harm, so please don't sue me.

A/N: THIS WAS WRITTEN FOR THE GREAT CLICHE CHALLENGE AT GRANGER ENCHANTED. I CHOSE MAKEOVER! HERMIONE, AND HAVE DECIDED TO THROW ANOTHER OVER-USED CLICHE INTO THE PLOT: THE REALITY SHOW. REMEMBER, THIS IS MEANT TO BE FUN. A SPECIAL THANKS TO MY BETA LADY LYNN!

The coffee shop was over crowded, and Hermione and Ginny sat at a corner table, sipping their hot lattes, their elbows every now and then hitting a passing customer who was squeezing in between tables.

"I just don’t understand," Hermione sighed, "am I that unattractive that no man ever gives me a second glance?" She placed a stray lock of her out-of-control, frizzy, hair behind her ear, where it stayed for less than a second before falling back into her face. "All men look at me as their little sister." She blew the hair from her eyes, and picked up her breakfast. "Or worse, they think I’m ugly."

"Who thinks your ugly?" Ginny asked curiously. "Malfoy. He said my face looks like someone set it on fire and put the flames out with a shovel."

"Ginny spit her coffee out all over the table. "Di… did he really say that?" She wanted to laugh so badly, but knew Hermione wouldn’t appreciate it at all. "Where does that man come up with his insults?" she wondered out loud, secretly appreciating his witty talent. "Don’t let what he said bother you! He is Malfoy after all. He was always a prick." She took another sip from her cup and looked over the rim at her best friend who was obviously feeling sorry for herself. "There are plenty of guys who think you’re attractive and would kill to go out with you."

Hermione gave her a ‘nice try’ look and Ginny shrugged her shoulders in defeat. "I really thought Ron and I had something, you know? I was stupid enough to think that he loved me, and what happens?" she asked, biting ferociously into her éclair. "He runs off with the first tart that shows him any attention!" She dabbed the corner of her mouth with a napkin, sat her half-eaten éclair on her plate, and picked up the Muggle newspaper. "He’s such a jackass!" she murmured.

"Well, at least you had the pleasure of seeing him dumped by that big-breasted cheap whore. That had to have made your day!" Ginny said with a smile. "I know mum was ecstatic. She’s never forgiven him for hurting you like he did." In fact, Molly hadn’t talked to Ron willingly in months.

"You want to know the sad thing, Gin?" Hermione asked, scanning the headlines. "I’d probably take him back in a second if he asked. That’s how desperate I am!" She flipped the pages until she came to the classified section. "Let’s see if I can find myself a man in the want ads. Oh, here we go!" she said with fake enthusiasm. "Very intelligent, good-looking man in early twenties seeks woman with brains AND nice body who likes sunsets and poetry." She snorted. "Guess that leaves me out! Nice body? That I definitely don’t have!"

"Damn it, Hermione!" Ginny said snatching the paper from her hands. "Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Who said you need a damn man to make you happy anyway? All they do is cause problems and make your life miserable. Sure, they’re good for a little sex every once in a while, but other than that…"

Hermione glared at her from across the table. What did Ginny know about being boyfriend-less? She had never been without a man since she was twelve! She was quite secure in her relationship with Harry. She had nothing to worry about. "Of course you can say that! You’re not the one who’s going to end up a bitter, lonely, old woman with a dried up vagina sitting in her rocking chair knitting booties for children she never had a chance to have!" She stood to leave, taking her jacket from the back of the chair and quickly pulling it on.

"You have a way with words, you know that?" Ginny said, grinning. "Something you and Malfoy have in common." She winked at her friend and made kissing noises.

"Don’t ever compare that… to that… molestus bastard per lectus penis!" she snapped in Latin. "I hate that arrogant ponce, and would like nothing better than to see him fall from his broom high over London and plummet to his well deserved death!" Stomping her foot in anger, she fled from the café, the tiny bell over the door tinkling against the glass.

"A way with words!" Ginny said with a chuckle, picking up the discarded newspaper. She sipped her cold latte and scanned the classifieds with boredom. She didn’t have to be at Quidditch practice for another hour, and really wasn’t looking forward to all her teammates gushing over the new team owner, Oliver Wood. It seemed he spent his life savings just to buy the Harpies, and he was going to make sure he turned them into a winning team.

She had had enough of his crazy fanaticism during Hogwarts and didn’t understand how a gorgeous man like him could care about nothing but Quidditch. She didn’t remember him having a girlfriend back at school. In fact, she could never recall hearing about him being connected to any woman- ever. Was that his problem? He needed to get laid? ‘Or maybe’, she thought, ‘he’s a fudgepacker…'

Her thoughts about Oliver’s sexual orientation drifted from her mind as her eyes fell on a small ad about half way down the page:Seeking participants for a new and exciting reality show! Only people in need of finding true love should apply. Send an essay to the address at the bottom explaining why you are the most desperate, love-starved individual on the face of the earth. If you’re lucky, we’ll give you a chance to not only find your soul mate, but win up to a million dollars! Only serious applicants need apply.

Ginny lifted her black leather purse from the floor beside her chair, fished out a Muggle pen and asked the waitress for a sheet of paper.

…………………………………

Two weeks later at Hermione’s flat:

"So, Gin," Hermione said, plopping down on the sofa next to her. "How’s Oliver Wood working out?" she inquired with snarky grin. Apparently, Wood was crazy, or at least gripped in tight steel fist of Quidditch frenzy that threatened to make them commit him to St. Mungo’s. The Harpies had just about had it with him and some were even thinking about quitting.

"He is impossible!" Ginny said with fervor, waving her hands in the air. "I swear he’s going to kill us all with his regimen of extreme exercise. It’s torture!" She lifted up her shirt, showing her tone stomach. "Look! I have a six-pack!" She shoved her shirt back down and made a muscle pop up on her right bicep. "I look like a fucking man, Hermione!"

Hermione couldn’t help but laugh. "I think you look great. I bet Harry loves those big muscular thighs wrapped around him in the throws of passion."

"Harry’s afraid to come anywhere near me, and who could blame him? Who wants a woman who’s so built she could crack a Snitch in half with her arse cheeks?" Ginny joined in with Hermione’s hysterical laughter, imagining actually demonstrating that in front of Harry. "In all seriousness," she said, holding the stitch in her side. "Wood is ruining my sex life! He needs to go before my…"

Ginny was interrupted by a loud knocking at Hermione’s front door. "Are you expecting anyone?" Ginny asked, her heart suddenly thumping out of control. She had been thinking nonstop about that essay she sent in. What would Hermione do if she found out she had submitted something like that while pretending to be her? What if the people at the door were from that reality show?

"I have no idea who it could be," Hermione said with a shrug. She strode to the door and looked through the peep hole. "What the hell…"

"Oh, Merlin," Ginny moaned, picking up the throw pillow and burying her face into it. Hermione opened the door slowly, not believing what she was seeing. "Can I help you?" she asked the tall man wearing what she assumed to be a very expensive suit. He was carrying a briefcase, as was the very attractive woman by his side who was well coiffed and smartly dressed. She was the one to hold out her hand.

"Hermione Granger?" she asked. Another man, dressed in torn denims and a faded black t-shirt with a smiley face on it, popped up behind them and snapped her picture, blinding her momentarily.

"Who… who are you?" Hermione asked, shaking the woman’s warm hand. "My name is Myra Shanks, and this is Donald Clump," she answered with a bright, clearly bleached smile. "We are from the BBC and want to congratulate you on your winning essay."

"Essay?" Hermione asked, confuzzled. "What essay?"

"Shit. Shit. Shit!" Ginny said tossing the pillow to the floor and rushing to the door. "Hi!" she said, leaning on the doorframe. She slowly turned her head towards Hermione. "You knoooowww!" she said panicking. "The essay you wrote about how you’re desperate for love? The one you sent into the reality show?"

"Excuse us," Hermione said through clenched teeth, grabbing Ginny roughly by the arm and dragging her inside. "We’ll be right back," she said with fake happiness to the BBC people and then shut the door.

………………………………

Myra looked over at Donald, her eyebrows disappearing into her slicked back hairline. "How utterly rude!"

"She’s perfect!" Donald said, "plain but not ugly, flat-chested and bookish. Imagine what she’ll look like when we’re through with her!"

………………………………

"What the bloody hell is going on, Ginny?" Hermione asked, backing her into the corner. "What essay? What reality show? What have you done?" she screeched, whipping out her wand.

"I was only trying to help!" Ginny shouted back. "You’re always bitching about being ugly and men not liking you, so when I saw this ad for a new Muggle reality show, I applied for you!"

……………………………

On the other side of the door, Donald had his ear pressed up against the wood, listening to the arguing inside. When he heard the word ‘Muggle’ his jaw dropped. ‘Could it be?’ he wondered. ‘Is this the famous Hermione Granger, friend of Harry Potter?’ Clearing his throat, he rapped on the door with his knuckles. "Excuse me, Miss Granger, but we have important things to discuss and very little time!"

Hermione slipped her wand back into her pocket. "You are going to open that door, Ginny, and tell them it was you who wrote that essay, and that you made a terrible mistake in thinking I would ever do something as stupid as starring in a reality show."

"You are so ungrateful, you know that? All I want is to see you happy. It’ll be fun!"

Hermione’s eyes were bugging from her head in disbelief. "You think that parading around on the telly in front of millions of people who’ll think I’m a pathetic, miserable, unattractive loser who can’t find a man to save her life would be fun for me?"

Ginny frowned and her shoulders sagged. "Well, when you say it like that…" Both of their heads quickly turned to the door as Donald knocked again.

"Miss Granger!" he said, sounding very impatient. "Can you please do us the courtesy of speaking with us before you make any snap decisions?"

Hermione pursed her lips and cursed Ginny for getting her into this situation. "I’ll be right there, Mr. Clump." She gave Ginny one last angry glare and then opened the door. "Please, come in, won’t you? Sorry about that, but there has been some kind of misunderstanding and my friend Ginny and I…"

"She sent it in for you, didn’t she?" Myra said, flashing her white teeth. "You had no idea she entered you?"

Hermione noticed the man namedDonald was glancing curiously around the room, his eyes narrowed as if looking for something. Ginny saw him catch sight of a few moving pictures in gilded frames on the table next to the chair and quickly ran to stand in front of them. Donald looked at her suspiciously, and turned away. The photographer snapped another picture, the flash lighting up the room, annoying Hermione to no end.

"Look, I didn’t give you permission to take my picture, so I’m going to have to ask you to kindly to quit …" She was blinded once more. "That’s it! I asked you very nicely to stop and now I just want you people out of my flat! Now! I don’t want to be any part of this show of yours, so just…

"Myra looked angrily over at Donald. "Do something! You know we need this or we’re going to get the axe, and I just bought a new house and BMW!"

Donald, wondering if what he suspected was true, knew exactly to do. "Miss Granger? May I speak to you and Miss…" he looked over at Ginny. "Weasley." "Yessss… Miss Weasley," he said lifting his eyebrow, knowing now for sure who these people were. "May I please speak to you alone? Without the photographer, of course." He gave her the saddest hang-dog look he could, and he could see her hard exterior crumbling.

Hermione, against her better judgment, relented and led the beaming man into the kitchen, followed closely by a highly curious Ginny. "Look Mr. Clump," she said, turning on him as soon as they were alone. "About this whole reality show…"

"If it’s the fact that this is a Muggle show and you are a witch…" Donald said slyly.

"What did you just say?" Hermione asked, startled. She could see Ginny out of the corner of her eye, hand clutching her throat, just as surprised as she was.

"Did you honestly think I wouldn’t recognize you? Why you’re both famous for Merlin’s sake!" he said, bubbling over with excitement. "I never in a million years ever thought I’d be standing in the same room with the people who helped Harry Potter vanquish the Dark Lord!"

Hermione thought the man might lose his composure and dance a jig right on the kitchen linoleum. "If you’re a wizard, why are you working for Muggle television?"

"Back in my younger days, I became obsessed with everything Muggle, especially their technology. The first time I strolled by a window with a display of televisions showing different programs, I was hooked. I swear I must have stood in front of that store for hours, entranced with the images. It was amazing and wonderful! I knew from that moment on, that I wanted a career in the television industry!" He spoke with the dangerous tone of a zealot and his face was glowing with something like love.

"Okay…" Ginny said, mouthing the word ‘nutter’ to Hermione. "Now that we’ve cleared that up, what did you want to talk to us about?" Hermione asked, impatiently.

"I didn’t want to talk, Miss Granger, I wanted to beg."

"You’re begging me to do your stupid show?" she chuckled. "Well, save your breath because there is no way in hell I’m ever going to do it."

Donald looked crushed. "But you haven’t heard what it’s about yet! Maybe you’ll change your mind once I’ve told you how great it’s going to be!"

Hermione leaned back against the counter, crossing her arms defiantly over her chest. "Alright, Mr. Clump, wow me."

He cleared his throat, clearly scared that Hermione wouldn’t hear him out. ‘Better make this good!’ he thought. "First off, we do a makeover on you- an extreme makeover; breast implants, a little work on your face, new hair style…" He thought she really needed a new hair do. "Then we give you lessons on how to be a sexy vixen, give you a killer outfit and then…"

"And then what?" Hermione asked, "After butchering my body and sewing it back up, shaving my head and giving me a wig to wear, teaching me to act like a ho and dressing me up like a tart, what could possibly come next?"

Donald wiped the sweat from his upper lip. If he didn’t succeed in getting this witch to do the show, he and Myra were going to be fired. For some reason, the station owner wanted this woman and no one else. "You see, we are going to pick five men from your past, put them in a house together for a month and make them compete for money and a chance to be with you at the end."

"Good luck trying to find five men who would want me," Hermione said sarcastically. "I guess that kills your show doesn’t it?" She pushed off the counter. "Now, I would appreciate it if you and Miss Shanks left…"

Donald scrambled to get control of the situation. "But don’t you see? You will be so beautiful that no man will be able to resist you! Those men from your past will be killing each other to get a date with you! Just think about it, Miss Granger: those men who never gave you a second thought, willing to do anything to be with you." He saw her stop in her tracks and squared his shoulders, standing up tall and confident now. "You, of course, will have the final say at the end of the show whether you want to be with the man you’ve chosen or not. It would be wonderful revenge to make a man fall in love with you and then break his heart, now wouldn’t it?" He knew he had her hooked- or at least he thought so.

Hermione was so tempted to take the offer. Just the thought of picking Ron and then telling him to bugger off in front of millions of viewers was making her giddy with delight. Then again, how embarrassing would be to parade the fact that she had to be totally made-over to get a man? She reasoned it out and came up with an ultimatum that made it almost impossible for her to be on the show.

"I’ll do the show on one condition: I pick the men, and unless they all agree to sign up for the show, I’m not going to do it."

"You devious little witch!" Ginny said, astounded by her friends crafty mind.

Donald could see no other option other than to agree to her terms. He would have to find someway of talking the men into being on the show. "Fine." He called Myra into the kitchen. Both opened their briefcases and spread out mounds of paperwork and contracts over the kitchen table for her to sign. "Their names please," Donald said, looking up at her. Hermione took the seat next to him, put her elbows on the table, and rested her hands under her chin.

Giving him a snarky grin, she rattled out the names of five men she was sure he would never get to come on Muggle television: Draco Malfoy, Oliver Wood, Ron Weasley, Cormac McLaggen and Blaise Zabini.

"What!" Ginny shouted from across the room. "Cormac? Blaise?" She needed a drink of water. Rushing over to the sink, she filled a glass and chugged it down. "Are you crazy? None of the men you picked are worthy of you! How are you supposed to find true love when you have to choose between a rich jerk, a sports fanatic, my brother who dumped you for a dim-witted slag, a prick who thinks he’s all that, and man who never said more than two words to you the entire time we were at school, but hates you just the same?"

"That’s the point, Ginny!" Hermione said in exasperation.

After an hour of signing contracts, Donald and Myra were finally ready to leave. "I’ll make contact with the gentlemen we agreed upon and as soon as I receive replies from them, I’ll get back to you," Donald said, shaking her hand. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Granger, and I look forward to working with you in the future."

"I’m afraid there will be no future for us, Mr. Clump, because there is no way in hell any of those men will agree to do the show."

He gave her a shrug. "We’ll see, Miss Granger, a little persuasion can go a long way. Everyone has their price." He glanced over at Ginny, who was biting her cuticles and pretending not to listen. "Miss Weasley, would you care to show us to the door?"

"I guess," Ginny said, confused by why they were asking her to show them to the door of someone else’s flat. She led them from the room and opened the door. The photographer was already waiting in the car, and after saying a farewell, Miss Shanks made her way to the shiny vehicle and climbed inside, leaving her alone with Donald. He sniffed the roses on the trellis and shifted his briefcase to his other hand. "Miss Weasley, do you think your friend needs this?"

"Needs this?" What the hell was he talking about?

"In your opinion, would being a participant on this show help her to get over her insecurities and possibly find love for the first time in her life?"

Ginny didn’t even have to think. "Yes."

"Then I would like to ask you to accompany me to the homes of these men and persuade them to be on the show."

"I don’t know…" she said uncomfortably. How would Hermione feel about her going behind her back again and messing with things that were none of her business?

"Miss Weasley," he said, placing his hand gently on her arm. "If you care at all about your friend’s happiness, you have no choice other than to do anything you possibly can to help her."

This Mr. Clump was a tricky bastard. Ginny was almost sure he was screwing with her, but he did have a point. "As long as she doesn’t find out I helped you, I’ll do it."

He grinned, reminding Ginny of a hungry shark. "First stop will be to Mr. Draco Malfoy. Shall I pick you up tonight at seven?"

"Sure," Ginny said unenthusiastically. She dreaded having to beg Malfoy for anything. She could already imagine his stupid, smirking, face.

…………………………………

Ginny and Donald stood at the front gate to Draco’s manor house, looking up in awe. Neither one had ever seen such an obvious display of wealth before. There must have been fifty gardeners clipping the lawn and trimming the shrubberies, and bubbling, spouting fountains in the shapes of mermaids and dolphins were placed in the middle of perfect little flower gardens.

"Disgusting," Ginny said, as if all the wealth left a bad taste in her mouth.

"Without a doubt!" Donald said as the gate swung open and they walked up the long drive to the front door. He lifted the brass knocker and set it down, the sound echoed loudly. It was answered by a house-elf with short stubby ears wearing a green and white polka dot bow tie and nothing else. He babbled on to them about stupid things while leading them into the drawing room, where they found Draco lounging on a leather sofa, reading the Prophet. He set the paper aside and slowly got to his feet.

"Weasley?" he said, shocked. "Come to borrow some money?" He chuckled, loving the anger that rushed to her face. "Or perhaps you heard what an amazing lover I am and thought you’d like to find out for yourself? Potter not giving you what you need?"

Ginny clenched her fists at her sides, wanting nothing more than to knock his teeth down his throat. ‘This is for Hermione. Just keep cool, kiss his ass and beat the shit out of him after the show.’ She took a deep breath and gave him a huge fake smile. "Malfoy, may I introduce Mr. Donald Clump."

Draco looked the man over as if studying an interesting piece of art work. He rubbed his chin, narrowed his eyes and walked around the man in a circle, appraising him. "Very nice suit. Clearly expensive and in good taste. Nice leather shoes, close shave, and hair to rival my own…"

Donald was feeling a bit weirded out. He had heard of this man’s reputation, and apparently everything he had heard was true and then some. He was very handsome, and had that arrogant drawl and the lazy demeanor only the rich could get away with. "Mr. Malfoy, I am here to make you an offer."

Draco stopped circling and went to pour himself a drink. He said nothing until he was done taking his first sip. "I’m intrigued, Mr. Clump," he said, offering them a drink. When both refused, he sat the carafe down, and leaned on the bar, looking dashing in his fancy clothes. "What could it be?" he wondered out loud. "What could you possibly want from me?"

"What I want, Mr. Malfoy, is for you to be a participant in a Muggle reality show- on the telly."

Draco almost spit out his scotch all over his Persian rug. "You want me to be on television?" He laughed like it was the most ridiculous request he had ever heard. "Why the fuck would I, a talented Pureblood wizard, want to disgrace myself by prancing around on Muggle televison?" He sat his drink down and turned to Ginny. "And why are you here, Weasley? What do you have to do with this? Is this some new obsession of your Muggle-loving father?"

Donald jumped in before Ginny could start shouting obscenities. "You see, Mr. Malfoy, this show is about finding true love."

Draco snorted laughter, but Donald ignored it. "We take a woman from your past, give her an extreme makeover and then make you and the other four men compete for her love- and you win money along the way," he added as an afterthought, knowing how much this man loved money.

"As you can plainly see, Mr. Clump, I have all the money I could possibly ever need," he said, motioning towards the fancy décor.

Ginny knew it was now or never. "Yes, Malfoy, you have all the money you need, but do you have a woman who truly loves you for you, and not for your money?" She crossed her fingers, hoping it worked.

Draco looked thoughtful for a second. "I’m quite happy without a woman who loves me. As long as I have hundreds of them adoring me and worshipping the ground I walk on, who needs true love?"

Ginny cursed under her breath. This was harder than she thought it was going to be. How do you bribe a man who cares only about women fawning all over him? She mentally snapped her fingers. "Malfoy, just think of all the Muggle women who will be glued to their television sets twice a week, gushing over how sexy you are, and how much they want you."

Draco poured another drink for himself and swirled it around it the glass, thinking. She was right! He could just imagine all those pathetic needy women willing to give him anything he wants just to get his autograph.

"Think of all the fangirls who will lie in their beds at night, pleasuring themselves while thinking about you…" Ginny knew she almost had him. "You’ll be famous, Draco; you’ll be every Muggle woman’s fantasy."

…………………………………………..

"Merlin that was easy!" Ginny laughed as they walked down the drive and out the gate.

"You were brilliant!" Donald said, "The way you used his arrogance to trap him! Once he got it in his head that every Muggle woman on the face of the earth would dream of having sex with him, he couldn’t say no!"

Ginny agreed. "That was pretty easy, but our next stop is going to be even easier."

"Oliver Wood, right?" He glanced at his watch. "It’s getting late, maybe we should wait until tomorrow when we know for sure he’ll be home.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Mr. Clump, you obviously don’t know Oliver. He’s never home, he lives at the Quidditch pitch! Which is where we’ll find him day or night." She grabbed his arm and together they Apparated to their next unsuspecting victim.