"Popular" from Wicked, Hannah dictating fanfiction while playing with silly putty. Dori typing.
"What do…"
"You think she will?"
"It's possible…"
The seemingly lifeless body that occupied the third bed in the room suddenly groaned loud enough to wake the dead before throwing a pillow over her face.
"Wake up!" commanded the first voice, hitherto be known as Lavender Brown.
"Fuck off…" said the third voice, hitherto be known as Hermione Granger.
"Wakey wakey," Parvati, the last girl coaxed, throwing back the draperies on the window, letting the much-too-bright for December sun shine in.
"Now, why did you have to do that?" Hermione groaned.
"You need to wake up right now because its 11am, the morning of what could possibly be the most important day of your life," said Parvati, her voice reaching a falsetto peak.
"What are you talking about?"
The next words were almost said at a glass-breaking pitch in unison, "The Yule Ball!"
"And what exactly is so important about the Yule Ball that you need to wake me from my beauty sleep? Don't I need that too?" Lavender rolled her eyes toward the ceiling before throwing the covers back off Hermione's bed, revealing a man's shirt two sizes too big and granny panties.
"See? I told you, you are just about the frumpiest, least-ladylike creature that I have ever encountered in my life. Get up! Go to your wardrobe and show me at least one thing that would flatter your hourglass figure." Hermione's jaw at this point was resting nicely between her feet.
"You are going to get up," Parvati insisted. "And you're going to sit in the chair before I have to tie you there."
Hermione had still not said a word, which Lavender decided to comment, "I think we're scaring her."
Hermione did talk then- "You think?!"
"We've been total louts to you-"
"Since Year One," Parvati finished for Lavendar.
"Right. So, we've decided we want to say we're sorry in the best way we know how: We're going to make you popular."
"So what exactly makes you think I want to join the ranks of airheaded bimbos everywhere?" was Hermione's reaction.
"Because," said Parvati, looking suddenly smug, "we know exactly who you've been corresponding with and who is going to the Yule Ball with you and exactly what kind of woman he likes."
"What makes you think you know the likes of him?"
"Because there's been this lovely little eagle owl delivering your mail."
"There's only one person who has an eagle owl, mind you," Lavender added.
An intruder to the room would notice that the conspirators were standing at the end of the victim's bed, quite menacingly, effectively cowing her against the headboard. Although it was only 11am on a Saturday, both girls were dressed to the nines in button up shirts and nice slacks, and matching, of course. Oh, but no one would even start to mistake them for twins. Lavender's light brown hair and fair Irish skin were leagues away from Parvati's thick black hair and olive skin. But they were twins as far as sisters of the heart go.
The girls gave each other a look and Parvati came up to the head of the bed to sit next to her and Hermione promptly scooted to the opposite side. She was headed off by Lavender who was already on the other side. She closed her eyes and sighed, wishing that she would wake up.
"Listen," Lavender said gently. "We like you. And obviously Viktor Krum likes you. We think you're smart, responsible and generally, incredibly kind. But we're not interested in your soul."
"Darling…" Parvati soothed as she saw Hermione's hair frizz out another couple of inches.
"What we're interested in is your hair."
"Do you stick your fingers in a light socket every night?"
Lavender adopted a quizzical look. "Light socket?"
"Muggle thing," Parvati assured before going on. "It's your hair. It's the fact that you don't wear make up at all. We're also interested in the fact that Ron dresses more femininely than you do."
"Hey!" Hermione started to protest.
Lavender cut her off. "That's not the point! The point is you're going to get into that chair, and we are going to do something with that homeless man that is residing on your head." Hermione's hands immediately shot to check her head before realizing that it was an insult and that it was far too early in the morning for her.
"We are determined to succeed!" Parvati asserted. "You have no choice. Moblia Corpus!" The struggling, angry teen screamed all the way to the vanity.
"Are you going to sit still and let us do what we said we're going to do? We know Viktor and we know you. Now, are you going to cooperate and let us make you pretty for him?"
"Fine," Hermione ground out. "But if I don't like it, I'm going to change it all right back."
The two girls looked at Hermione and let out a 'Why would you want to change it? You're absolutely crazy,' but not in so many words, milk-curdling shriek.
What have I gotten myself into? Hermione thought silently while shaking her head in dismay.
x xxxxxxxxxx
"Don't cross your arms. It makes you look frumpy."
"Bugger off," Hermione bit back as Parvati jerked at a hunk of her hair.
"You look lovely."
"Yeah, thanks."
"No, really…Hermione, look at your hair."
x xxxxxxxxxx
At seven in the evening Hermione was released. They only had to restrain her once, when Parvati came at her face with a pair of tweezers. A cooling charm had been applied to the red, angry skin where her eyebrows used to be. Lavender assured her that she didn't want to look like she had wooly worms on her forehead and that this was much better.
The additions, moreover, deductions that they had made to her dress were a different story. Hermione felt minutely vain in the dress. It originally had short sleeves and a modest neckline. Now the sleeves were about the size of linguini noodles and the neck had dropped a fraction. And by a fraction, they meant 6 inches. What was most different was the fabric. Before it was a nice matte periwinkle blue; now it shone brightly like satin and clung modestly to her curves. Or at least Lavender had said that it was modest. Hermione would beg to differ.
It was the hair that had completed the visage. It was…manageable. Previously, no one could call her hair even curly. It was raucous. It took on the characteristics of a yeti- it was usually dry and moderately tangled. The hair itself was unremarkable in color, a pale chestnut brown and incredibly thick. She could only wrap a band around her ponytail once while other girls with thick hair, like Parvati could get it around at least twice.
Hermione's hands were shaking and sweating as she waited at the bottom of the entrance hall staircase. A moment later, she caught her first glimpse of Viktor. He had come in the door and there was snow on the shoulders of his red cloak.
"Viktor!" Hermione stage whispered. His head cocked in her direction but he didn't see her. She tried again, this time in a normal voice, "Viktor!"
"Hermy-own?"
She smiled, looking down at her feet, which were incased in three inch pumps.
"Do you like it?" she asked quietly.
"I like you, Hermy-own. Not your hair. But is nice. For tonight. It will be old hair tomarrow?"
Hermione smiled widely before taking his offered elbow.
"Yes, Viktor. It's going to be back the way it used to be tomarrow."