Disclaimer: One day perhaps I will be a published author and people will write fics about my stories and I will read them and laugh at how they twist my storylines - but today is not that day and this is not that story. I do not own Harry Potter.
Not slash. I don't have a problem with slashfics or even with the Hermione/Ginny pairing. But this isn't one. Got that? Good.
Hermione stared into the mirror despairingly. She felt tears rush to her eyes as she pulled on a lock of bushy brown hair. All the girls asked her why she didn't straighten it. Ron, one of her best friends, asked why she needed three hours to get ready. She threw an empty bottle of Sleekeasy's Hair Potion at the wall, where it shattered, yelling, "This is why!" She slid to the floor, sobbing.
Two hours and gallons of Sleekeasy's Hair Potion since Ron's ignorant question and her hair was as bushy as it ever had been. It wasn't fair. Not for the first time, Hermione wished in vain to have naturally straight hair, instead of these unruly, frizzy curls. She told people, when they questioned her, that leaving her hair to its own devices was a sign of her independence, her willingness to stand out. As if she needed hair for that.
The truth was, she had given up trying to tame her hair years ago, simply because it wasn't possible.
She picked up another of the empty Sleekeasy bottles. 'Curls begone – straightens the wildest hair in a matter of minutes!' "Oh, really?" Hermione muttered dejectedly. "How many minutes?" she tossed aside the bottle.
She stood up again, and looked at her reflection once more. Chocolate brown eyes. Unblemished skin. Pretty nose. And she'd been able to get her teeth shrunk to normal size. Her facial features were all right. In fact, were it not for the mane of hair framing her face, Hermione would've ventured to call herself good-looking. Beautiful, even. If not for the hair.
In a moment of crazed speculating, Hermione considered cutting it off and wearing a wig from then on.
She reached for her wand and had almost drawn it, before jerking her hand back. What am I thinking? She thought. It's hair! My hair! I can't just cut it off! She sighed heavily, leaning on the sink. "I can't go to the ball like this, either." She said out loud, a fresh batch of tears pouring out of her eyes. "I c-can't!"
"Hermione?" someone called, trying to open the locked bathroom door. "Hermione are you in there?"
"Go away!" Hermione called.
There was a few seconds of silence and Hermione thought they actually had. "Alohamora!" the voice called and the door clicked open. Hurriedly, Hermione tried to wipe away her tears. "Hermione. Hermione!" Ginny grabbed her hands as Hermione struggled not to start crying again. "What's wrong?"
"It's – it's just – this!" she gestured to her hair. "I've been trying to straighten it for two hours – and – and –" she broke down, sobbing once more.
"Hey, it's OK," Ginny said gently, hugging her.
"No, it's not!" Hermione pulled away angrily. "It's not okay, because no matter how much hair potion I use, nothing happens!" she yelled. "And I've only got an hour until the dance!"
Ginny picked up a discarded bottle, examining it closely. "How've you been using it?"
"Like it says to, as a shampoo."
To Hermione's surprise, Ginny smiled. "What do the manufacturers know about real hair?" she said. "Now, I've always found that on her like ours, it works a lot better to fill a sink with Sleekeasy, and wash it that way. Pure potion – no water involved." She picked up a full bottle and began pouring it into the sink.
"Hair like ours?" Hermione asked.
Ginny looked up. "Ron never told you? Funny. I did threaten him with a Bat-Bogey Hex if he told, but I didn't expect him to actually believe me. More likely, he's just forgotten." She helped Hermione lower her hair into the sink of Sleekeasy potion. "My hair is almost as frizzy as yours in the morning – didn't you ever notice that I get up an hour earlier than everyone else?"
"How could I notice, if I was asleep?"
Ginny laughed and over the next half an hour she worked the Sleekeasy into Hermione's hair, while they told each other stories about bad hair days. Finally, she said, "Okay, it's done."
Hermione stood up and slowly turned to face the mirror. What she saw took her breath away. Her hair – once so bushy and unmanageable – was straight, silky and several inches longer. "It's beautiful . . . " she murmured and ran her fingers through it, feeling the unnatural softness on her hand.
"Of course it is." Ginny said matter-of-factly. "It always has been – because you always have been." Hermione smiled. "And now I believe there is just enough time to do our hair and make-up before the ball begins!"
Hermione stared at her. "H-hair? But I thought – "
"My dear Hermione your hair has been curly for far too long. You have forgotten – if you ever knew – that once hair has been straightened, it is simply begging to be worked with. Otherwise, why straighten it?" Ginny grinned mischievously. "No, my work is far from over – but don't worry, you're in very capable hands."
As it turned out, Ginny's hands were more than capable. By the time they needed to head down to the Great Hall, Hermione could barely recognize herself. Before they left the dormitories, Hermione stopped. "Thanks Ginny. I couldn't have done this without you."
"What are friends for?" Ginny asked. "Besides, you've done plenty for me – you know, help with homework . . . teachers . . . boys . . ." They both giggled.
"Well, thanks."
The next morning, Hermione thought about her change in appearance. While she was eternally grateful to Ginny, and would never have been able to live it down if she'd shown up to the ball with bushy hair, it wasn't her. Looking in the mirror after the transformation, she had barely even been able to find herself in the reflection. Ginny had said she'd help her straighten her hair every morning if she wanted to – but did she want to?
She got up and tiptoed to the bathroom mirror. Her hair had gone curly again overnight of course, and Hermione tugged on one brown lock thoughtfully. Shiny, silky, straight hair was all very well – for one night, anyway. For more than that . . . stared at her reflection, Hermione realized that the long mane of hair was as much a part of her as the chocolate brown eyes and pretty nose. As much the nearly perfect memory that had earned her the nickname know-it-all. And that was why she couldn't cut it off or keep it straight – she loved it the way it was, just like she loved her eyes and nose and memory.
Hermione smiled and went down to breakfast. For the first time in her life, she was completely content with who she was.
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