Harry had been avoiding the prospect all day, but Ron, Hermione, and the other Weasley children were all adamant that a trip to Diagon Alley was in order that afternoon. It was a few days after the Quidditch World Cup, and they were all starting to settle back into the lazy bliss of vacation. A big part of holidays for the Weasleys was the freedom they brought. Being close to both the new Portkey to Diagon Alley and a sizable Muggle town meant plenty of opportunities for shopping and entertainment.
It wasn't that Harry disliked Diagon Alley. He just disliked the constant attention. Anyone who caught sight of his scar was liable to start a riot pressing for autographs, and he simply couldn't stand it. When he confided this to Hermione in the room she and Ginny were sharing (the Weasleys were engaged in a shouting match over the mysterious egging of Mr. Diggory's house, and Hermione had suggested that all Non-Weasleys find cover) she didn't seem overly surprised.
"I thought it might be something silly like that," she said with an air of exasperation, "Why don't you just use cover-up on it?"
"Isn't that stuff for girls?" Harry demanded. Hermione let slip a rare giggle. She looked him up and down with a grin.
"I don't think it will damage your masculinity to use a bit of powder, Harry." He flushed at the jab. At fourteen, he was still small and scrawny for his age. He barely stood higher than Ginny, and his voice showed no signs of deepening. Indeed, save for a few scraggly hairs on his chin and a fine cover over his legs and in his armpits, he was rather prepubescent.
"I'll run grab Ginny's makeup kit and be right back," Hermione said over her shoulder as she bolted for the door, a sly look in her eye. Harry had no time to tell her that he refused to have makeup on his face. He sighed and turned to the mirror hanging rather crookedly on the wall, scowling at what he saw. With a furtive glance at the door, he lifted his baggy sweater up.
He was slender and fragile-looking, with rounded shoulders and a tiny waist, leading to the gentle curve of his hips. His legs looked long in comparison in their too-tight jeans, slim and shapely from hours on a broom. Harry's hands and feet were dwarfed in comparison to those of his best friend, Ron Weasley. He searched for signs of muscle on his chest and arms, but his tanned flesh was flat and smooth as a mannequin's. It could be worse, he thought glumly, I could have breasts to boot.
He heard Hermione in the hallway and hastily pulled his sweater back on. She had returned with not only Ginny's makeup kit but the dazzlingly attractive Ginny herself. Her freckled features carried a familiar grin, and Harry found himself unable to look away from her mouth, particularly her lips.
"Dad's making the boys go weed out the Diggorys' lawn, so it's just us. Ron says that you're a lucky git you didn't get involved and they'll be back around three." Ginny examined him appraisingly before squealing "You're going to look so great!" with her typical excitement. The words puzzled Harry a bit, seeing as he would simply have one less lightning-bolt scar on his forehead, but if Ginny thought he would look great, that was enough to make up his mind.
"Okay then," he said with what he hoped was nonchalance, "Go to it." The girls pulled him into the room's only chair, confiscated his glasses, and conjured a few rather bright lights. From his position Harry couldn't see the mirror, but he did have an excellent view of Ginny Weasley, so he couldn't argue. They opened the kit and began discussing tones and shades and colors. Typical girls: they were no doubt putting far too much thought into covering up a simple scar. Hermione began dabbing at his face with various powders, and when he protested, saying "I thought you were just hiding the scar!"they clucked and rolled their eyes.
"Obviously that would ruin the whole balance!" Hermione remonstrated. "You"d look a right prat with a blotch of one shade on your forehead and the rest of you a different tone," Ginny added. Harry, who had very little knowledge of such things, capitulated and relaxed as they continued with brushes and compacts.
"My, your lips look really dry," Ginny remarked a few moments later, "Let me put some balm on them." She whipped out a tube of what Harry supposed to be lip balm and carefully painted his lips with it. Her fingers brushed against his mouth and he struggled not to react. Closing his eyes and concentrating as hard as he could on Quidditch, he failed to notice Hermione applying a thick coat of mascara to his already curled lashes.
"Well," he said conversationally, after a few more minutes of brushes on his face, "Can you still see the scar?"
"It's deeper than I thought," Hermione said apologetically, "But I don't want to use more powder on it, your skin will get all dry and horrible." She exchanged a sly look with Ginny. "Maybe if we sort of combed your hair over it?"
"Brilliant," Harry muttered, "I could've done that myself." Not to say that he minded Ginny running her fingers through his hair and combing it smooth. He was a bit miffed when she opted to use her wand instead, taking several minutes to tease it across his forehead, and, unnoticed by Harry, shape his eyebrows into feminine arches. Hermione looked on approvingly and then took over to do the extensions—a specialty of hers—and trimming. At long last, after spraying it carefully in place, they pronounced it finished. When Harry reached up to touch his hair it was soft and smooth as silk. He couldn't honestly say he didn't like the feel of it. He went to touch his face, but Hermione batted his hand away.
"You'll ruin it," she said, "You've got to let it dry for a bit. It makes the scar a lot less visible at any rate." When he pursed his lips in a pout, the girls both started giggling uncontrollably. "You look so amazing," Ginny said through her laughter with what sounded like awe. Harry stood up from the chair and rushed to the mirror, where his jaw dropped open.
There was no way the sexy knock-out, the goddess, in the mirror, looking sultry and surprised, could be him. His hair, swept stylishly across his face in the latest fashion among young witches, must have been enchanted to gleam and ripple like a Muggle shampoo commercial. The soft bangs framed his heart-shaped face, where a girl's plucked eyebrows arched over his big green eyes, accented by smoky eyeshadow.
He blinked, and the vision in the mirror batted long, luscious eyelashes at him. His tiny upturned nose, which had always seemed out of place, now looked positively adorable above his Cupid 's bow lips. The "lip balm" that Ginny had applied had made his lips look thick, wet, and kissable. He pouted again, just to see the bright pink lips move enticingly. His precious chin-hairs, four at last count, were gone without a trace, leaving his pixie-like chin smooth as a baby's.
This vision of perfection both repelled and titillated Harry all at once. How could it possibly be him? But it was. The face winked flirtily, tossed his hair, and pouted along with him as he tried out various facial expressions. All looked equally alluring. Ginny and Hermione were busy congratulating each other behind him and gushing praise.
"Oh Harry, I wish I had eyes like yours," Hermione exclaimed. Ginny expressed her love of Harry's nose, which she had deemed "adorable" several times in the last two minutes, and told him he had lips like Jessica Alba. Harry was still in a state of shock, mouthing "no way" at the temptress reflected in the mirror and touching a finger to his plucked brows.
"Hey," Ginny said suddenly, "Ron, Fred, and George won't be back for an hour yet. We should do your nails!" This suggestion finally snapped Harry out of his trance-like state.
"What?" he demanded "No way! This isn't funny! You lot had better get this stuff off of me, I'd never hear the end of it if Fred and George came back and saw me like this!" Hermione was grinning again.
"You don't have much of a choice, Harry," she said, waving a camera, "We've got pictures of the whole thing. I'm sure all the boys in the Gryffindor common-room will believe that you "didn't know what was happening", don't you, Ginny?" As he saw the numerous photographs of the lengthy procedure flit from the back of the camera and spread out across the desk, he felt his insides plunge.
"Ginny! Hermione! You wouldn't!"
"We might," corrected Ginny, "If you don't let us do your nails. Come on Harry, don't be a spoil-sport. Relax and have fun, and we'll have you back to your masculine side by the time the boys are back. Otherwise I might have to send Dean some very sexy photos." She giggled, a tinkly laugh that melted away Harry's anger.
"Alright then," he said grudgingly, more angry at Dean than anyone, "Go on." They dug more supplies out of the kit and set to work, pulling off Harry's socks and inspecting his toes and fingers. As they painted, a vivid pink from what Harry could see, they kept up a constant stream of compliments.
"Harry, you have such pretty hands!"
"This shade matches your skin perfectly!"
"Do you manicure your toes?" At this Harry blushed, and admitting to keeping them well-trimmed, for Quidditch reasons of course. They were charming his finger-nails well past their normal length when Harry heard a thumping in the entry-way.
"Oh my gosh!" he squeaked in an uncharacteristically girlish soprano (perhaps the beauty charms were having side-effects), "They're home! Don't let them see me!"
After tons of requests I'm finally putting these stories back up again! I'm afraid that after I took them down for a big compilation-slash-editing, my hard drive crashed and I lost them all (except the first one, which a helpful reader helped me recover!). Needless to say, I was devastated for a really long time. I've decided to finally buckle down and start over, but that's where I need help from you, the readers! I'm trying to remember all the plotlines from each story...so if you have copies of them or even just memories, please please PM me!