Ron sighed. He sat up, causing his old mattress to creak
under his weight. He had been lying there since lunch, hoping
that his family thought he was sleeping. He wasn't sleeping, though.
He was thinking. About the year before, about the kiss Hermione had
given Harry at the train station, stepping on his heart in the process,
and then barely waving goodbye to Ron before breezing away. He glared
at the window, daring it to break. Instead of the sound of shattering
glass that Ron half expected to hear, a knock sounded from the door and
Ginny came in before he had a chance to say anything.
"Hey," she said brightly, unzipping a vivid pink bag and turning
it upside down over his bed. Brushes, mascara, hair gel, hair dryers,
eye shadow, and any other instrument of torture known to man spilled onto
his new navy blanket.
"What are you doing?" Ron asked her incredulously.
Ginny smiled. "Makeovers!"
He looked at her, and said, "Why?" But she didn't listen.
She grabbed a washbasin from out of thin air and sat him in an old, rickety
chair, leaning his head over the small metal tub. "Okay, he said,
"what--" He was stopped when a torrent of water was poured over his head.
He looked up quickly, sputtering, "What the hell are you doing?!"
Ginny laughed, and said, "Washing your hair!" she snatched a bottle from
his bed and squeezed some pinkish goo onto her hands and working it through
his hair, then washing it out with another river of water that seemed to
disappear as soon as it touched the smooth metal of the basin. She
then began pulling his hair straight with a wide toothed comb.
"Ow!" he shouted, as she ripped through a particularly sharp
knot at the back of his head. She then took another spiky brush and
started combing bangs over his eyes, then trimming them with her wand,
which was much more convenient than scissors. She then took the blow
dryer in her hand and snapped her fingers. It suddenly let out a
blast of hot air into his face. She began chattering away while holding
his locks of hair straight with her fingers, "Isn't this the weirdest thing?
Dad picked it up from a Muggle house, and Fred and George fixed it, because
it's eclectic. Before they fixed the moto, it was really loud.
I didn't see what the moto did though, but Hermione says it's what makes
the thing run. It's called a Hair Dryer. What a stupid name."
She sighed. "Oh well, muggles aren't that bright to begin with...
So, anyway," she started again, now done with the hair dryer, which had
flattened his hair, "What about Hermione? Do you like her?"
He stood up quickly, saying indignantly, "No!" though he
knew it was a lie. Ginny looked up at him, saying, "Fine, don't tell
me, but you know I know." He sat down, glaring at her, as she worked
green jelly-looking stuff through his hair, then shaping it gently with
yet another comb, brushing his bangs to either side of his face.
Tapping his head with her wand, she said, "There. Now whenever you
put some of this bottle of hair gel into your hair and brush it just like
I did, it will stay. Okay? Good." He stepped in front of the
small mirror in his room, and breathed in quickly, surprised. Then
he smiled, thinking, "Maybe Hermione will like it."
Ginny, laughing, said, "Maybe she will like it.
She's coming today, you know." He looked up, saying, "What the...?!
Oh, I'm gonna get you!" She squealed, running from his room with her bag.
He followed her, laughing.
A/N: Okay, that is about the weirdest story I've ever written, but it
was fun, not writing a stupid serious-y dramaish thing.
D/C: Not mine! Not even the hair dryer!