The amount of R/Hr goodness in this fic is very small but present nonetheless. I wrote this because I'm tired of fics where Hermione can throw on some makeup and a dress and become an instant sex kitten. It's never that easy.

Oh and just for general knowledge...Hermione's quip about her hair being twice the size of her head applies to me most of the time. Sad but true.

Hermione, like every other female, had a certain amount of vanity. To be fair, it only seemed to affect her in small doses. Most of the time, she was able to cast it aside, preferring to spend her time doing something more productive than fiddling with fashion and makeup. Besides, she rationalized, she'd require a minor miracle to even compete with most girls her age. In the long run, it was much more beneficial to know the twelve uses of dragon's blood or how to make the perfect Sleeping Draught.

There were certain times, though, that she could not ignore her vanity. Times where she knew her usual routine of throwing on decent clothing and maybe a coat of lip balm weren't enough.

As much as it pained (and embarrassed) her to admit it, this was one of those times. Even worse, it was one of those times where she'd have to recruit help. She was pressed for time with only a few hours left until the ceremony.

The trick was to do it as nonchalantly as possible, to act as if she were concerned with dresses and shoes and makeup on a regular basis.

Gathering all of her courage, Hermione picked up the two dresses she'd laid before her and wandered into Ginny's bedroom, where the redhead was currently looking through her closet. "Which of these dresses should I wear to the wedding?"

Distracted, Ginny looked up and glanced quickly at the dresses in Hermione's hands. Then she proceeded to stare, her face fighting with several emotions at once.

Hermione let out a disgruntled sigh. "You can say neither."

"Thank Merlin. Neither!" Ginny exclaimed, stepping away from her wardrobe.

"Thanks so much for your tact," Hermione said sarcastically, dropping both dresses on the bed.

"I'm sorry but both of those dresses are dreadful," Ginny said, trying, and failing, to keep the laughter out of her voice.

Genuinely surprised, Hermione looked down at the dresses. "What's wrong with them?" She'd purchased the burgundy with the high collar and mother-of-pearl buttons a few years ago for her cousin Emily's wedding.. The other she'd swiped out of her mother's closet. It was a floor-length black with long sleeves and lace trim.

"Well, the burgundy looks like something a first year would wear. And as for the black, are you in mourning? They're both completely inappropriate for a summer wedding."

"So then what am I supposed to do? The wedding starts in two hours," Hermione asked. She threw herself on Ginny's bed and tried not to wail.

"You can borrow one of my dresses," Ginny offered generously. "Actually, I think I have just the thing, hold on a second." She disappeared into her small albeit cramped closet. She emerged a few minutes later, a triumphant look on her face. "Ta-da!" She announced, holding out the dress with a flourish.

Hermione stared at it critically. "I don't know, Ginny, peach isn't really my color. I don't think it'll work on me."

Ginny pulled Hermione to her feet and pushed the dress into her hands. "Trust me. You'll look fabulous. Just humor me and try it on."

"Fine," Hermione agreed, planning to shut Ginny up by putting the dress on and proving that it looked horrible on her. She ran into the bathroom, which was conveniently next to Ginny's room, stripped off her clothes, and put the dress on. It ended about two inches above her knees, exposing more leg than she wanted. She glanced into the mirror and grudgingly admitted that the color looked okay on her. The dress had thin straps holding up, thus showing off her shoulders, which were rather nice. She couldn't hold back the tiniest of gasps when she realized that the dress's scoop neck meant a subtle bit of cleavage was visible. She didn't evenknow she had cleavage. Panic began to set in. This was nothing like what she'd ever wear; she could never pull this off. If she wore this in public, she was certain she'd be met with quite a bit of laughing.

Hermione picked up her discarded clothes and hurried back into Ginny's room. "Okay, joke's over, I can't wear this in public, this is crazy –"

Ginny promptly shut her up by exclaiming, "What are you talking about, you look great!"

"I can't, this is not like what I normally wear. I feel almost naked," Hermione said, feeling herself go a bit pink.

"Naked my arse. You're showing a lot less skin than most girls," Ginny said. "Give me one good reason why you shouldn't wear this dress." She folded her arms across her chest and fixed Hermione with a challenging stare.

Hermione balked under Ginny's stare, unsure of how to explain to her friend exactly why a dress like this brought all her insecurities to the surface. She wasn't sure Ginny would understand. After all, Ginny was the most self-assured girl she knew. "I can't pull this off."

"Say who?" Ginny challenged. She turned Hermione around, zipped the dress closed, and turned her back around to face her. "You know what you need?"

"What?"

"Confidence," Ginny responded emphatically. "Of course the dress will look horrible on you if you think it does."

Hermione blinked at her. "I don't understand."

"The secret to confidence is to fake it," Ginny said simply.

"If you fake it, how is it confidence?"

"Because if you act like you're completely comfortable, it'll reflect in your appearance. If you go downstairs in that dress thinking you look horrible, you will look horrible. If you keep faking it, eventually you'll start to believe it," Ginny said.

Hermione shook her head. It sounded completely ridiculous and like a hoax and yet… "Who taught you this?"

"Mum."

Hermione's own mother barely had time for a proper conversation with her daughter, much less giving her advice on how to build up some self-esteem. She was silent for a moment, thinking how fortunate Ginny was to have a mother like Mrs. Weasley, who always made time for each of her children.

"Right, well, first things first," Ginny said briskly. She pulled out her desk chair, grabbed Hermione's arm, and plunked her down into it. "It's time to do your hair and makeup." She rummaged through some drawers and pulled out a bulging cosmetics bag. "I know some makeup spells but since I'm still underage, we'll do this the Muggle way. Don't worry, Mum taught me some tricks."

Hermione felt the panic rise up again, certain makeup would only make her look like a clown. "But wouldn't you say makeup just plays to the stereotypical belief that –"

Ginny cut her off. "Makeup is a mask, Hermione. Once you have it on, you won't feel like yourself. Maybe you'll start to see what other people see."

Hermione opened her mouth to protest but Ginny butt in again. "If you keep talking you'll ruin my concentration."

For twenty minutes, Hermione sat completely still as Ginny leaned in close and used various brushes, creams, and powders on her face. As the minutes ticked by, her anxiety continued to increase. She felt simultaneously relieved and apprehensive when Ginny set down her tweezers and announced, "Okay, I'm done."

Hermione started to rise up out of her chair. "Now I can finally take a look –"

Ginny laughed and gently pushed her back down. "I still have to do your hair, silly."

Hermione groaned a little. "If you're planning to straighten it, we'll be here for days."

Ginny goggled at her as if she was mad. "Straighten it? Are you crazy? Your curls are fabulous."

"Fabulous? Ginny, my hair is twice the size of my head. Half of the time, I swear there are wild birds nesting in it," Hermione said, half-joking.

Ginny tsked as she released Hermione's hair from its ponytail. "You're really going to have to stop putting yourself down and accept compliments when they're given to you."

Hermione kept her mouth resolutely shut as Ginny waged a battle on her hair, although she did let out a few yelps during some yanks. Finally, Ginny stepped away from the chair and gestured with a flourish. "My work here is done."

Hermione looked at her warily. "So I can look now?"

"Yes."

Hermione sprang up out of her chair and rushed to the mirror over Ginny's chest of drawers. She gasped as she looked at herself. Her hair framed her face and shoulders in a mass of wild curls. She could barely tell she was wearing makeup. Her eyes looked ten times bigger and her mouth had a nice sheen to it. She was pretty. "Ginny, you are a miracle-worker."

"Pfft, it was no miracle. I just took what you already have and enhanced it. Now you know how people see you," Ginny said, draping her arm over Hermione's shoulders. "Hermione, you're beautiful." Sensing Hermione's protest, Ginny shook her head. "No arguing."

"Thank you, Ginny. I mean it," Hermione said, giving her friend a brief hug.

"You're welcome," Ginny responded. "You need shoes." She emerged from her closet holding a pair of white strappy sandals with a small heel. "I know you don't wear heels but there's a first time for everything."

Hermione slipped them on without complaint, not wanting to seem ungrateful. She picked up her two discarded dresses and headed to the door. "I'll let you get dressed now. The wedding starts in an hour and a half." She closed the door behind her and started to her room, which happened to be Charlie's old room down the hall.

Suddenly the bathroom door opened and Ron stepped out, still in his jeans and Chudley Cannons t-shirt. He stopped in his tracks when he saw her, his eyes widening. He stared at her, his mouth slightly agape while she grew nervous, wondering what he thought.

Ron seemed to get a hold of himself and cleared his throat. "Hermione…wow…"

She started to ask him if he really did like it but stopped herself, suddenly remembering Ginny's words. She squared her shoulders and raised her chin, her eyes meeting Ron's. "Thanks," she said with a smile. "I'll see you at the wedding." She walked away, careful to keep her steps steady in the unfamiliar heels.

When she reached her room, she glanced back to see Ron still standing in the hallway, looking gobsmacked.

And that, she thought as she smiled to herself, made it all worth it.

-end