Why Do We Fall in Love?
Chapter Seven: Ginny the Barbie
Ugh, I wake up with a huge headache. Maybe Hermione knows a spell to get rid of it. After quickly washing up and changing, I walk towards the Great Hall. I am seriously hungry and I really need to nip this hangover in the butt before Ron sees.
As I straggle in, the loud noise almost kills me. I manage to make my way towards a much chipper Hermione.
"They're fighting again, Ron and Lavender!" she exclaims, looking towards the bickering pair at the opposite end of the table.
"Hermione do you know of any anti-hangover charms?" I whine, trying to block out all of the loud noise.
"Ginny, you really shouldn't drink. But fine. Aerotarto," she mumbles, clearing my head. Sometimes Hermione completely rocks.
"That feels so much better, thank you so much," I thank her, smiling.
"Sooo, a little birdie told me that you found a date to the Halloween ball!" Hermione says, sounding pleased. I did?
"I did?" I ask. Why don't I remember this?
Hermione just smiles, thinking that I'm joking. "So you're not going with a certain Dean Thomas?" she asks quizzically, cocking an eyebrow. That's when it all comes back to me; my drunken acceptance to go to the ball with Dean and then I might have danced on top of a table too.
"Hermione, did I dance on a table last night?" I ask, worried.
"Don't worry, Harry pulled you off before too many people saw. Oh and you also might have thanked him by calling him, and I quote, 'Hottie Potty'," she says, giggling.
"Oh no, that's beyond embarrassing," I groan into my hands which are now covering my face.
"Ginny it wasn't that bad. But we're going dress shopping tomorrow, don't forget. You want to get an awesome dress for Harry—I mean Dean," she says before smirking and walking away. I silently vow never to drink fire whiskey again.
As Hermione leaves, Ron and Harry sit down across from me. "Hey bro," I nod towards Ron. "Oh and Harry? I'm sorry about last night, I didn't mean it I was, uh… impaired," I say, apologizing quickly.
Harry looks up, surprised and says with a crooked smile, "It's fine. It's my fault for hooking you up in the first place".
Impatiently, Ron butts in suddenly. "Ginny, what is this I hear about you going out with Dean?" he yells. My face reddens in anger and Harry just looks confused. "I don't think you're old enough to be dating. After all, you are my little sister," Ron continues ranting.
"Ron, I will date whoever I want," I snap trying not to look at Harry.
"But Ginny, Dean's a real dirt bag! He'll try to steal your innocence!" Ron says, getting louder.
"Ron, I am perfectly capable protecting my innocence," I growl, blushing. Is he really going to do this in front of Harry? Apparently he is because then he continues.
"I just want you prepared to say no when the time comes."
I look up at Harry and he looks extremely uncomfortable. "Ron you know you're not the poster child for abstinence, seeing how you and Lavender molest each other in public on a daily basis," I counter, enjoying the reddening of Ron's face.
"That's not the point! I just want you to wait until you get with the right person because, well, you only have one first time," he sputters.
"Oh Ron, are you speaking from experience? Is there someone you wish you shared your first time with other than Lavender?" I question innocently. Oh I have him now.
"We're not talking about my sex life Ginny! We're talking about yours! Or more importantly, the lack there should be of it!" he shouts. "Harry will you please back me up," he pleads, turning to Harry.
"Uh…. Ginny I think you should wait. I mean the right guy might be closer than you think… and sex is something you should do when you're in love. Not when you're trying to prove Ron wrong. So, uh, yeah. Just consider that," Harry stammers, looking so serious, you would think that someone died.
What is this? Is Harry telling me he wants to have sex with me? Or is he just trying to keep me a virgin forever like Ron?
"Whatever guys, I wasn't going to sleep with Dean anyways," I say before standing and stalking off. Looking over my shoulder, I watch the worry melt from their faces and relieved expressions take their places. Stupid protective brother.
At least I have Hermione's shopping trip to look forward to. Not that she's the worst person in the world to shop with, but she'll make me try on a million dresses, even after I've found the one I like, and then she'll sit there and put on every dress the shop has to offer. But it's not like I have anything better to do.
I wander around the castle with these thoughts until I see Harry and Hermione in the library without Ron. Harry looks utterly bored while Hermione looks completely fascinated by whatever large book she's reading.
Walking in, I pull up a chair next to Harry and begin rummaging in my bag for some parchment and a quill. I see Harry glance at me from the corner of my eye, but he doesn't say a word. Sighing, I start to doodle. Suddenly, Harry snatches the parchment away from me. I start to protest but remembering where I am and who I'm sitting near, I shut my mouth tight and continue to glare at Harry. As if to add insult to injury, he then grabs my quill as well.
As I wait impatiently, I watch as he scribbles onto the parchment and then passes it back. The glare melting from my face, I blush as I read:
Ginny do you really think I'm 'Hottie Potty' or was that just the fire whiskey?
Really? He just had to go there. I look up to see him smirking. Well two can play at this game. Hunching over the parchment so that he can't see, I scribble back:
Oh Harry, it was definitely the fire whiskey. I would never lie like that unless I was wasted.
I slide the paper over and analyze his reaction; he crinkles his eyebrows together and then snatches the quill up. Quickly the paper slides back to me:
Ginny are you really going to the ball with Dean?
Is he upset by this? Had he been planning to ask me before this whole fiasco? Or does he just think I'm not capable of getting Dean to ask me? With a frown, I write:
Why Potter? Do you think I'd make this up just to screw with Ron, or do you not believe that Dean would want to go with me?
I quickly slide the paper over. Hermione glances up in irritation as the parchment scrapes across the table, but quickly goes back to her book, not willing to break the precious silence of the library to reprimand us. Harry slides the parchment back to me with a frown.
I don't doubt that Dean would want to go with you; I'm just worried about Ron. You know we're already pushing him to his limits with Hermione.
Is this really about Ron or is it about me? Man, I am so full of it; of course he's worried about his best friend. With a defeated sigh I write back:
It's a real date. It's Hermione's fault anyways, she's forcing me to do all of this stuff.
Okay, so I exaggerate a little bit, maybe she isn't forcing me, but she's definitely egging me on. His response is one word:
Alright.
As I'm leaving the library I decide to get some dinner and then some sleep. I'm going to need it for whatever Hermione has planned for tomorrow. As I drift to sleep, I have a nightmare that Hermione can't find me a dress, so she forces me to just go in my underwear, claiming that it is the new trend and that Harry will totally love it.
-o-O-o-
"Ginny! Pst! Ginny, wake up!" someone whispers into my ear. "Don't make me spray you!" the voice threatens.
"Okay, okay, I'm up," I mumble, grabbing Harry's invisibility cloak from where it is bunched at my feet and holding it close. "Why's it still dark out?" I ask, peering through my barely open eyes.
"Because it's bright and early. And why are you sleeping with Harry's cloak?" Hermione whispers, completely weirded out. Oh yeah, today is dress shopping.
Why we have to get up so freaking early is beyond me, but I've learned to just go with it when it comes to Hermione.
"Uh, you don't want to know," I mumble before rolling out of bed and grabbing some clothes.
"Ginny, should I just pretend I didn't see you snuggling with his cloak? This is even creepier than the sniffing thing," she rants.
"Pretending is good," I say matter-of-factly while pulling my shirt over my head.
"Honestly Ginny, you are the slowest person I've ever met, you take hours to get dressed," she complains, tapping her foot impatiently. What is today, Pick-on-Ginny Day or something?
"At least my showers don't take weeks to finish," I counter defensively.
"There's nothing wrong with personal hygiene!" she snaps. "Just put some damn clothes on already," she continues while looking at the mess I have created around my bed. Clothed, I stuff Harry's cloak into my bag and pull her out of my room before she has a chance to criticize me some more.
"You know I had to put in a special request to get us to Hogsmeade. If you had just been normal and bought a dress a month ago, you wouldn't have to get up so early," she scolds. I trudge behind her as we walk out of the castle and towards a lone carriage.
"Don't fall asleep in there," she commands.
"Of course not," I say while closing my eyes. It is way too early for this. Before I know it, the movement of the carriage stops. I snap my eyes open and see Hermione jumping out, so I quickly scramble to my feet and jump out too.
"I told you not to sleep," she grumbles.
"Hermione, this is the time of day normal people sleep," I complain. We walk up to a dress store called Witch's Wardrobe. It looks relatively small, so maybe it won't take so long.
Hermione runs right to the dress racks and starts pulling a storm of dresses out, smiling to herself. I probably look the exact opposite.
Feeling useless, I trudge to the dressing room that I'll be residing in for the next few hours. Just as I sit on the bench within my room and prop my head against the wall, a huge flurry of dresses explodes over the top of the door. I slowly take them by the hangers and just stare at them.
Holding up the dress on top to my body, I look in the mirror. The popping red and flared skirt make me feel like a pregnant oompa-loompa. No. I pick up the next two. A sickly yellow and a midnight blue. Nah. Sighing, I plop down on the floor and rub my eyes. This is going to take forever.
Out of the corner of my eye I see an emerald green fabric poking out from between a bunch of frilly atrocity. Sliding it out, I eye it curiously. It kind of reminds me of Harry's eyes. Unzipping the side zipper, I step into it, trying not to step on the delicate fabric. Zipping it back up and turning to the mirror, my eyes widen. It looks… amazing.
It's a strapless a-line, which makes me boobs look better than I've ever seen them. It snuggly fits around my torso, the fabric wrapping around from my rib cage, down to my hips. At the hip, the fabric stops wrapping and falls delicately down, the ends fading from emerald green to black down to the floor. But the best part is definitely the slit that travels down the front of my left leg, starting just inches from my hip and giving me the ability to show lots and lots of leg. Turning around, I smile at the crisscrossed fabric making its way down until the middle of my back. I look hot. I feel tall and elegant for once in my life, and the slit gives me a wild, mysterious look. And best of all, it doesn't clash with my hair!
This is the one! It's perfect! Wow, that was easy. Now I just have to get it past Hermione. Then again, she's the one that picked it out, she should like it.
"I found the one I want!" I yell over the door.
"Get out here," she commands. She's wearing a pale pink, poofy thing that looks ridiculous.
"Wow Ginny!" Hermione sighs, her eyes widening. I feel awkward as I watch her eyes travel from my chest, to the slit. "That is so you! It compliments your hair and you look great!" She says, still looking me up and down. "And the shoes you wore to Bill and Fleur's wedding, you know those silver wedges? Yeah, they'd be perfect! Now go try another dress on." she demands.
"What? But why, I want this one," I plead. I'm sure it's the perfect one for me, and it will make Harry's eyes pop out of his head. On the down side, Ron will probably try to cover me up and have a hissy fit.
"Ginny, the only way to make sure that it's perfect, is if you try other dresses too. If you don't get the same feeling with the others, then you can be certain that this is the one," she says like it's the most logical thing in the world.
I just want to get out of here and enjoy my Sunday. With my head hung in defeat, I drag myself back into the dressing room, and so begins the endless parade of dresses. But no matter what I try, I never find anything better than the first one. After trying a bunch of frilly ones, I try on barely-there dresses; as in extremely skanky dresses. One has the same color as the perfect one, but I might as well have been mauled by a werewolf. All of this fabric is cut out of it so it looks more like scraps of fabric than of a dress.
Finally, Hermione gives in to dress number one once I've tried on all of my dresses. With a sigh, I sit onto a chair in front of her dressing room and wait for her to come out. Finally, she comes out in a golden, flowy gown.
"What do you think?" she asks awkwardly.
I stare in amazement at what is supposed to be my modest best friend, Hermione. The pale golden dress has tiny, barely-there spaghetti straps that lead to a low cut, sweetheart shaped neckline. The chest area is shimmery and seductive, but in a subtle, elegant way. Under her boobs, the dress tightens like a corset but then elegantly transforms into a sleek, silky skirt at the hips. The skirt is layered, starting from the knee down to the floor, but then swoops up on the side to bunch up a little higher than mid-thigh. Where the fabric bunches up, a slit is present under it.
"Wow," I say amazed. "I love it."
"Really? Are you sure you're not just saying that because we've been in here for a while?" she asks grinning. She knows me too well.
"No Hermione, I think Ron will die when he sees you," I say smiling.
"Really? He will?" She asks, looking down at herself nervously. "Then I guess I'll get this one," she says, beaming and walking back in the dressing room to change clothes.
I check my watch. Damn, we've been in here for six hours. I go over to look at the racks and see a bright pink, short-as-can-be, mess of a dress.
"Hey Hermione, check this one out," I call to her from where she's picking out shoes and jewelry.
She giggles and says, "It looks like something Lavender would wear." It so does, I think, shoving the dress back on the rack and following Hermione to the cash register where she has accumulated all kinds of jewelry, a pair of golden wedges with a golden rose on top for herself, along with our dresses. I rush out of the store and think of kissing the ground as Hermione drags me along towards the carriage.
The next few days pass by slowly and Ron starts hanging out with us more, which means that I have to endure more of Harry and Hermione's ridiculous couple behavior.
I make sure to inform Dean of my dress color, but besides that I hardly ever see him. The day of the dance finally arrives when Hermione wakes me up extra early. Why we need a whole day when we're witches is unknown to me. I think Hermione has scheduled everything down to our entrance down the stairs of the Great Hall.
"Ok Ginny, first on the list is pedicures!" she chirps excitedly after I come out of the shower.
"Isn't there a spell for that?" I ask, grumbling.
"Where's the fun in that," she answers, holding out a vile of nail polish, "we're going to do things the muggle way!"
This is going to be a long day.
"I think you should paint your toes to match your dress," she continues, obviously not sensing my annoyance that the day is going to be spent without magic.
She gestures for my foot. I stick it out, nearly kicking her in the face. I close my eyes, thinking I'll get some sleep while she does my toes, but she continues talking.
"You excited for your date with Dean?" she asks as she examines her handiwork on my big toe.
"Uh, that would be a no. I'm only going with him to make Harry jealous," I answer, not looking to see what she's doing with my feet.
"Ginny, you shouldn't use Dean like that," she scolds.
"So what are you doing to Harry?" I counter, getting defensive.
"That's different. Harry knows I don't like him, you're just leading Dean on," she says, letting go of my foot to do her own with a new vile of paint. That was fast.
"But Hermione, it's not like we even talk. I've barely said one word to Dean since he asked me to the dance," I say, inspecting her paint job. It's perfect, just like everything Hermione does.
"Don't stress Ginny, just don't keep dating him after this," she warns. Why is everyone so against me dating Dean? First Ron, then Harry, and now Hermione. What's next, will I get a howler from mum?
There's an awkward period of silence before I decide to change the subject.
"So Hermione, did you know that Ron's favorite color is gold?" I ask, walking over to her dress with my toes raised so as not to mess up the still-damp paint.
"I had no idea," she says in a voice full of sarcasm. "It's just like how your dress totally doesn't match Harry's eyes," she continues, starting on her own toes.
"Yup!" I grin, ignoring her sarcasm. "Do you think he'll like it?" I ask, holding it up.
"Who wouldn't? Well, besides Ron," she says, smiling. Yeah, Ron. Ron is not going to like my dress.
"Maybe your dress will distract him," I say hopefully.
"That's the plan," she answers, walking around the room and gathering up assorted bottles.
"Sit down Ginny," Hermione commands and points to a chair.
"Hey Hermione, can I ask you something?" I ask casually.
"Yeah, sure, what is it? Oh and sit still," she answers, turning her attention to my still-damp hair.
"Is Harry a good kisser?" I blurt out. Her busy hands pause and I turn to see that she's thinking hard.
Any answer she gives is a wrong one; if she says yes, then she's admitting to liking being with him. And if she says no, then she's insulting him right in front of me.
She continues to do my hair and finally answers. "Uh, well it doesn't feel genuine when we kiss. It's more of a stage kiss," she says in a small voice.
"Nice save Hermione," I congratulate her with a smirk and go back to sitting still.
I feel like a Barbie, just sitting here letting Hermione poke and prod me with various brushes. I have to continually remind myself that it's for a good cause and that Hermione will finish with me in a few minutes. I go to my happy place and try to ignore the tugging of my hair.
My happy place is filled with images of Harry. Wow, I sound a little obsessed, but it's cool, seeing as it's my fantasy. I like visions of Harry whisking me away for however long Hermione wants to torture me.
"Finished!" Hermione chirps. She stands in front of me and studies my hair. Pointing her wand at my head, she mutters something.
"What was that?" I ask.
"Oh, just a spell to make sure that your hair stays in place all night," she says, nodding with satisfaction before pulling out a huge purple box of make up. Picking up the makeup brush, she turns back to me, and I follow her commands to turn my head, look up, close my eyes, and whatever else she asks me to do. Pulling out her wand, she mutters something else, probably a spell to make sure my make up stays put, and commands me to put on my dress, shoes, and the jewelry she bought me when we were at the store.
Finally, after what seems like hours, I am finally allowed to look in the full length mirror hanging on the back of my door. As Hermione steps away from my line of vision, I see a stranger standing in the mirror.
Her red hair is softly curled and the top half is pulled back with a shimmery silver clip to reveal soft cheekbones. Wisps of hair fall forward and frame her face, while her bang sweeps to the side across her forehead. As I blink, the stranger blinks too, and I realize that it's me. As I blink again, I see the emerald green shading my eyelid that darkens to black as it reaches the outside of my eye and the strawberry gloss that covers my lip.
All I can say is DAMN. I look hot. Spinning a little, I watch as the dress floats away from my body ever so slightly, showing off my legs that look extremely long in the silver wedges.
"Oh, I almost forgot!" Hermione says, rushing back to me. She takes out her wand again and points at my feet. Suddenly, the pressure of my weight disappears from my toes and I feel barefoot. I look down to make sure I'm still wearing shoes, and sure enough, there are my dangerously high heels. Okay, well dangerously high for me.
"It's a spell that makes you feel barefoot. This way, no matter how much you dance, your feet won't hurt and you won't trip. Unless you trip on your own two feet of course," Hermione explains.
"Dang Hermione, you went all out," I say appreciatively while continuing to check myself out.
Hermione turns to tend to her own hair in the bathroom. After a few minute, I feel my stomach growl.
"Uh, Hermione, am I allowed to eat something?" I ask. Hermione's half curled head pops out from the bathroom door and she glares at me.
"We just ate three hours ago!" she shrieks.
"Yea, well…I'm a Weasley, I eat like a pregnant woman," I mumble, looking down at my neatly manicured hands.
"You'd think with all this talk about pregnancy that you'd actually be pregnant," she grumbles as she walks over to her trunk and pulls out a sandwich. As my hand eagerly reaches for it, she snatches it back out of my reach.
"If you get ONE drop of ANYTHING on your dress, I will kill you," she threatens, waving her wand so that a huge plastic bib covers my dress, finally handing me the sandwich. Merlin, you'd think I was going to war or something. Plus, how could I possibly get anything through this. Even if I was Ron eating ribs, I still wouldn't be able to do that.
After I finish my sandwich, I yank off the bib and look at the clock. 6:00.
"Hermione, are you ready yet?" I scream at her impatiently.
She walks out of the bathroom with her wand pointed at her hair, mumbling the spell she'd used on me before.
She looks stunning with her hair curled and gathered to one side of her head in an intricate bun, a golden rose sticking out of it. Curled ringlets frame her face and neck, making it look like they fell out of the bun, but knowing Hermione, it's on purpose. Her makeup is more subtle than mine, with gold that fades to black on her lids instead of green, and a peachy-colored gloss.
Ron is going to freak when he sees her. Maybe he won't even notice my dress.
We stand next to each other in the mirror, examining ourselves and one another. I look from the mysterious, wild, sexy look Hermione has given me, to the elegant, quietly seductive look she's given herself. Wow, she's got some real talent.
I begin to twirl and giggle to myself, suddenly extremely giddy despite all the hours of getting ready. As I twirl faster and faster, I feel the dress flare out higher and higher, until I'm sure I just flashed Hermione.
"Ginny!" Hermione yells suddenly.
"What?" I say, stopping my twirling abruptly.
"What kind of underwear are you wearing?" she demands.
"Erm…" I hesitate, trying to think of what I put on this morning.
"You can't wear those panties! They're not sexy at all! If you're gonna twirl like that, wear one of your thongs," she demands, pulling a black, lacy thong from my trunk. I guess I did flash her.
Once I've changed and we've taken some pictures, it's finally time for the dance.
"Remember, walk down the stairs slowly," Hermione advises, taking my arm and leading the way. I feel my heart flutter nervously as we make our way out of the tower.
-o-O-o-
A/N: I know, I know, I'm evil. How could I stop right before the dance? Originally it was together but it was waayy too long, so the dance is the next chapter, but I promise, it'll be awesome. This chapter was almost 5000 words so I hope it makes up for the week long wait!
Sooo what did you guys think? I know the perfect thing to make you review... a sneak peak!
So this is what alcohol does to Hermione.
:D So until next week!
-M