Pain Between the Toe
A/N: This was written fro the Third Floor Corridor Fanfiction contest. I hope you enjoy!
"Did you know that those popcorn-speckles on your ceiling are in the shape of Harry's face?" Hermione asked Ginny from her spot on the floor. The two girls were lying in the redhead's bedroom after previously consuming several bottles of fire whiskey that Ginny had obtained from her twin brothers' stock.
Ginny laughed mischievously. "I used Percy's wand," she confessed. "The bloke never could figure how his wand ended up on the roof."
The older girl bit her lip, trying to hold back from laughing. "No wonder Percy moved out," Hermione stated.
"Glad he did, pompous git," Ginny slurred, holding a finger to her mouth. "But he was fun to have around. Never could take a joke, that one."
"Ginny, what are you doing?" Hermione asked, looking at her friend curiously.
The redhead quickly dropped her hand. "Nothing."
"Were you just biting your nails?" Hermione questioned unbelievably.
"So what if I did?" Ginny answered coolly, nibbling on her fingers again. "They're my fingers and I can bite them if I want!"
Hermione swiped at Ginny's face. "That's a nasty habit!"
"Maybe, but what else do you do when your mother takes your wand away and you can't fix your nails when they break?" Ginny whined while examining her nails with genuine pity.
"Your mum took your wand away?" Hermione looked at her friend incredulously. "Ginny, you're eighteen-years-old."
"I know," the younger girl sulked. "It's supposed to be for Muggle Appreciation Month, as if we really need to appreciate Muggles."
Hermione laid her head back on the ground, the pulse in her brain banging like an amateur middle school band. "You forget too easily that I'm from a Muggle family," Hermione responded.
"Yes, but why do we have to appreciate them? What about Wizard Appreciation Month?"
"Ginny, Muggles generally don't know that we exist!"
"Well, it's unfair," Ginny said stubbornly. "I want my wand back!"
"It's only for a month," Hermione argued. "Besides, it might be fun."
Ginny turned her head towards her friend and her face was immediately attacked by the forest of brown hair. "Fun?" Ginny said, spitting hair out of her mouth. "Fun for you! You still have your wand! You can fix your nails!"
"Well, then, why don't you go to a nail salon and fix them?" Hermione suggested.
"A what?"
"A nail salon. It's a Muggle place where you can get manicures and pedicures the Muggle way," the older girl explained.
Ginny's face scrunched up at the thought. "I don't think I want to know how they do that…"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's simple," she began. "They just cut off the dead skin, file your nails, and paint them."
"Cut off dead skin?" Ginny said in shock. "Without magic?"
"It's not that bad," Hermione chided. "You should try it."
Ginny looked pitifully at her chewed up nails. "It's not going to hurt, is it?" she asked pathetically.
Instead of getting a verbal response, Hermione grabbed the redhead's arm and sent both girls were flying through a tube of pressure. "Hermione!" Ginny gasped when the two were back on their feet. Hermione had landed next to the redhead in the middle of a vacant alley. The rumbling of cars just beyond the alleyway told both girls that this was a busy street. "Warn me next time you plan to send me flying half way across the country!"
Hermione clasped a hand over Ginny's mouth. "Hush, the muggles can hear you!"
"You're a muggle-?" Ginny said sarcastically, but was quickly silenced by one of Hermione's threatening looks.
The bushy brown-haired girl took Ginny's arm and pulled her out onto the sidewalk. "This is where my mum used to go to get her nails done," Hermione informed her, pointing at a sign that said 'Tiptations Hair & Nail Salon.'
"Tiptations?" Ginny gawked at the sign with a bathing suit model standing next to it. "Are you sure we're in the right place?"
Hermione glanced at Ginny. "Yes, this is it."
"I…just can't see your mum going to this place," Ginny said. "You know…which all those weird-looking women on the window and…"
"My Aunt May owns the place,"
"Oh," Ginny said, her eyes getting really big. "I didn't know your aunt owned a slaughter house—I mean, beauty salon."
With another roll of the eyes, Hermione pulled Ginny into the shop. "Hermione, darling!" a middle-aged woman with purple hair cried. "I was expecting you!"
"I didn't know Tonks was your aunt," Ginny whispered only to receive a hard jab in the stomach.
"This is my friend, Ginny," Hermione introduced, pointing to her red-haired friend. "We wanted to get our nails done."
Aunt May took a step back from the pair and eyed Ginny. "Did you want to get your hair done, too, while you're here?" she asked. "It could use the work."
Ginny glared at the woman. "No, thank you," she replied icily, wishing more and more that she could have her wand back to do torturous things with it.
"Are you sure?" Aunt May asked again. "Well, then, what will it be, Hermione? Manicure? Pedicure? Waxing?"
"Waxing? What's that?" Ginny asked with a confused look on her face. Hermione tried to shush her friend, but it didn't work. Instead, she just looked apologetically at her aunt.
"My, your friend doesn't get out much, does she?" Aunt May said to Hermione.
"Two manicures and pedicures," Hermione requested, trying to hide her embarrassment.
Aunt May simply nodded. "Let me go get the chairs ready. I take it your friend can pick a color for herself, correct? She won't pick out a fire-engine red?"
"No," Hermione answered. "I'll help her."
When the middle-aged woman left, Ginny turned to Hermione with a look of hatred on her face. "You let your aunt humiliate me!" she accused.
"Come on, let's pick out a color," Hermione said, trying to distract her but with no luck. Ginny stood rooted to the ground with an ominous glare.
"You let your aunt humiliate me!" she repeated a little louder.
Hermione put her hands on her hips. "Look!" she countered. "Just don't say anything and you'll be fine. She's just a little odd."
Ginny pursed her lips together. "She insulted my hair."
"Maybe we can get your hair done later," Hermione suggested.
The red-haired girl gasped. "That's an insult!"
"Come on," Hermione said again. "Let's pick out a color and get this over with." Hermione finally managed to steer Ginny towards the shelf where about three hundred colors ranging from black to rainbow orange were lined up by color. "Ok, whatever you do, just don't pick red, pink, or black. I'd say a good purple, blue, or gold would look nice."
Ginny still had a hurt expression on her face as she surveyed the colors. "You pick, then, since you're the expert."
"Fine," Hermione said with a hint of exasperation and grabbed a pale gold color for Ginny while picking out a light pink for herself. Then the two waited for what felt like an eternity before Hermione's aunt led the two to a pair of massaging chairs with bubbling water for their feet. "This is the best part," Hermione confided. "From here on, just relax."
Ginny hesitated as she stuck her feet into the water. "This isn't going to hurt, is it?"
"Just relax," Hermione repeated.
And so the fun began.
It wasn't the rubbing, the oils, the scent, or even the clipping of the nails that sent Ginny up the wall and attaching herself to the ceiling. It was when silver cutters came out and began to lash out torturously at her poor little toes.
"STAY AWAY FROM ME!" Ginny shrieked, glued to the ceiling.
"Ginny, get down!" Hermione called.
"Hermione, what is your friend doing?" Aunt May asked in horror. "Is she-?"
And she did. She pulled out the most evil weapon she could grab in the last three and a half seconds: a rather large bottle of rubbing alcohol. "Don't come near me!" she threatened, holding the bottle with one hand.
"You're embarrassing us!" Hermione yelled. "Get down this instant!"
"You're not my mum!" Ginny charged back. "And I am not getting down until she gets rid of that weapon!"
The worker looked bewildered at Aunt May and Hermione. "What's wrong with her?" she mouthed to Aunt May.
"Hermione, I want her out. Now!" Aunt May commanded.
"Ginny, get down! We're leaving!" Hermione called to her friend.
"No! I don't believe you!"
Another worker came out with a broom and began to poke at Ginny. Ginny threw the bottle of rubbing alcohol, spraying the small crowd in the salon before hitting the worker with the broom in the head.
"GINNY!" Hermione screamed. "DOWN! NOW!"
"NEVER!"
Shoving her hand into her pocket, Hermione pulled out her wand and tapped a nail polish jar. Then she hurled it at Ginny. "Catch!" she yelled.
Ginny caught the jar in her empty hand and was instantly transported back to the living room at the Burrow. Collapsing on the couch, she let out a loud sigh, hugging one of the cushions.
"You ok, Gin?" Ron asked from across the room. He and Harry were playing a game of wizards' chess when Ginny appeared.
"You look like you got in a fight with a lawn mower," Harry commented, surveying Ginny's disheveled appearance.
"Smells like it, too," Ron added.
"It's rubbing alcohol," Hermione snapped. She appeared in the hallway and marched towards the couch. "Did you have to do that!?"
Ginny, realizing that she was very close to death, gave Hermione the most frightened look. "What happened?" she asked meekly.
"You're never allowed back," Hermione informed her, turning her back on Ginny and sitting down in a chair next to Ron. "And I had to modify the memory of every person in that room. Thanks to you. What part of 'no magic' do you not understand?"
Ginny looked at her nails. "It was her fault," she mumbled angrily.
"Where did you two go?" Harry asked.
"Never mind," Hermione responded shortly. "I am never talking about this again."
And Hermione made a silent pact with herself to never take Ginny Weasley venturing through the Muggle World again. Ever.