Harry and I are going out to celebrate my position as Quidditch Captain tonight, and I've been getting ready for almost two hours when Hermione finally comes looking for me. "Ginny," she scolds. "You have to remember you're a witch, or this is all so much more difficult than—"

"I'm still underage," I remind her. "No magic outside of school, remember?"

She frowns, then takes the curling iron that wouldn't work no matter how tightly I wound my hair around it. "What…exactly…were you trying to do with this?"

I look in the mirror at my disastrous hair to avoid looking at Hermione. "It's a curling iron," I explain. "Muggles use them to curl their hair, I think."

She shakes her head, obviously trying not to laugh. "Oh, Ginny. Muggles use electricity to heat these up, and it's actually the heat that curls your hair. Do you want help?"

I nod, ready to cry at how difficult this all is. "How do you always manage to look so pretty all the time?" I ask her, frustrated.

"My hair used to be a disaster," she confesses. "It was always frizzy, and I could never control it. Yours at least looks good when you don't do anything to it. I've learned some helpful spells over the years, and they generally make my hair easier to manage." She glances at my hair, then stands behind me. "I think it's time you learned some of them so you don't do this to yourself again."

"Thanks," I say, grateful that she's saving my disastrous attempt to get ready for a date.

"First, Afuero ambagesque," she says casting the spell on my hair. "This will get rid of the knots so that you can actually manage to do something with it. "Then, if you want to curl it—I'm assuming you do—Torquent cincinnis is your best bet, but make sure you only cast it on a small section at a time or you'll end up with one gigantic knot. Then, when you've got all the hair where you want it, Induresco. It will make sure the curls don't fall out before you're ready, and the spell for when you're done with them is Conquiesto."

With Hermione's help, my disastrous attempt at fixing my hair is remedied quickly, taking much closer to the amount of time I expected. Before I can even begin stressing about what to wear, Hermione pulls open my closet and starts looking through my options. She doesn't take long to choose a gray blouse and dark blue jeans. "Wear this and you'll look perfect," she suggests.

"Thanks, Hermione," I say again. "You really are the best."

She smiles. "Just promise me you'll have fun," she says. "You and Harry both deserve to relax for a night."

I promise, and Hermione leaves me alone to change. I don't need to think about a necklace—true to my word, Harry's gift has stayed around my neck since he put it there. But a simple pair of silver earrings, a touch of makeup—and I'm ready to go. I pick up my purse as I head downstairs, just as Ron arrives in the fireplace, followed quickly by Harry.

Harry stares when he sees me. "Ginny, you look…beautiful, as always," he says.

I can feel myself blushing while I smile.

Ron and Hermione head into the kitchen to relax, both of them happy that Ron is home for the night. "Do you reckon they'll let your mum know we're headed out, or do I need to tell her we're leaving?" he asks.

I roll my eyes. "It's Mum," I say, because that explains everything.

"Right," he says, conjuring a Patronus that canters off to tell Mum that Harry and I are off, but we'll be back before too late. "Are you ready to go?"

I nod excitedly. Harry takes my arm and holds a little too tight—I know that means we're going to Apparate and quickly grasp his, as well—and then we squeeze through space and time and end up standing outside the Three Broomsticks. "Dinner?" Harry asks, releasing his grip on my arm in favor of holding my hand.

"Please," I tell him happily. "It's been too long since I've been here."

Inside, we've been seated for barely two minutes when a man I don't know comes over to talk to Harry. He's very diplomatic in getting rid of our guest, but more have taken notice of us now. Before we even get our food, a wide variety of people are making a detour to our table so they can congratulate Harry and shake his hand, and some even ask for an autograph.

When the waitress returns with our food, Harry Conjures two boxes and hands her a Galleon. "Keep the change, please. We really can't have a peaceful dinner here, but I don't blame you for that."

She barely has time to nod before we stand up and Harry takes my arm again. "Ready to go?"

Now we're in a wooded meadow, somewhere I've never seen before. The late sun makes everything glow, and I'm entranced.

"It's not quite the date I imagined," Harry apologizes when I don't say anything.

He needs to be reassured. "It's beautiful, Harry. Perfect."

We just stand and look for a few minutes longer before Harry Conjures us a blanket to sit on and silverware to eat with. He holds up his fork, laughing. It's missing the center tine, and the one on the left is badly misshapen. "I was never great at that," he admits. "I could cast a Patronus in third year, and that's past N.E.W.T.-level magic, but Conjuring a simple fork…impossible."