¤*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Well, I'm quite disappointed with Chapter 12. So much boring in so short of a chapter. But, moving on…I think this chapter will follow each person individually. Like, each character will get their own little part of it. Hermione and Ginny go first, then Harry and Ron. I think we need more personality coverage in the story…or something. Ah, I don't know, just read the chapter! =)

¤*~ Chapter 13 (A/N: unlucky thirteen!)

Hermione zipped up her pants and strolled out of the steamy bathroom. She wrapped a white towel around her head and walked lazily down the hall. She could hear Harry cooking dinner downstairs- it smelled like pasta. He didn't exactly enjoy cooking after years of being the Dursley's main chef, but all that practice had greatly sharpened his skills. She and Ron coerced him into making something as soon as they got home from the beach. Hermione passed her own room, which was directly across from Harry's, and walked to the very end of the hallway where Ginny's door stood. She knocked lightly as she cracked open the door.

"Harry?" called Ginny's disembodied voice from somewhere in the room.

"No, it's me," responded Hermione as she slowly walked inside. Ginny was standing next to her closet and trying to pull a blue sweater over her head.



"What is it?" Ginny yanked down the sweater and stared at Hermione. Her fiery hair was standing on end from the sudden pulse of static.



"I just…I never…I want to look pretty, and I figure you'd be the right person to go to. You know, because you have all that makeup and clothes and…shoes." Hermione paused awkwardly when she saw the dazed expression on Ginny's face.



Suddenly Ginny broke into a grin and scrambled towards Hermione, pulling her into the bathroom. Once she had shoved her onto the toilet, she pulled a huge bag of various cosmetics from under the sink and stared at her breathlessly. "I've been waiting YEARS for you to say that," She came up with a tattered piece of parchment. "During which, I've prepared a list of colors that would match your complexion. Look, I've got…mauve eye-shadow to match your chocolate- brown eyes…dark lipstick because that looks good with brown hair…oh, and light blush because you're sort of pale. No offense."



"None taken," Hermione waggled her legs back and forth. Ginny pulled several small plastic containers out of the bag with a grin. Just as she was about to paint a streak of the mauve eye- shadow across Hermione's right eyelid, she shrieked and retracted her hand. Hermione panicked and covered the afflicted eye, thinking something was wrong with it. "What's on my face? Is there something wrong with my face?"



Ginny sighed and smacked her forehead. She muttered something that sounded like 'What was I thinking…' before she responded. "No, it's just that I forgot to do something with your hair. If I don't fix your hair before your face, I might smudge your makeup."



Hermione stood up and placed both hands against towel on her head protectively. "I didn't say anything about my hair."



Ginny pushed her back onto the seat and rolled her eyes. "Well obviously I can't JUST do your makeup. I've seen Fashion Emergency, you know. I know how this works."



Hermione knitted her brow. "What's Fashion Emergency?"



Ginny placed her hands on her hips. "It's a show on Dad's telly about these fashion experts giving ugly muggles makeovers. First they do their hair, then their makeup, and then their outfit."



Hermione threw off the towel and once again stood up. Damp brown curls spilled down her shoulders. "Did you just call me ugly?"



Ginny calmly pushed her back onto the toilet with a grunt. "No, for heaven's sake no. Settle down. I'm doing you a favor, remember?"



Hermione lost her animosity and settled herself comfortably atop the toilet seat. "So…what are you going to do to it?"



"I planned that out as well. Remember the Yule Ball when you straightened your hair?"



"You're going to do that?" asked Hermione excitedly. "I loved that!"



"No. I'm not." Ginny lifted herself atop the counter and clasped her hands. "You have naturally curly hair, but you-" she paused to perform an exaggerated shudder. "-you CONSTANTLY frizz it out and…don't condition it!" She spat out the last taboo words.



Hermione rolled her eyes. "As if not conditioning my kinky hair would curse me for life."



Ginny leapt off the counter with wide eyes. "You'd be surprised! Hermione, curly hair is not a burden, but a gift from God! I wish I had curly hair! All you have to do is properly maintain it and blokes will be falling all over themselves just to be with you! Lord, it's like…it's like catnip for men!"



Hermione looked appalled and a bit concerned. "I think you're taking this fashion thing a bit too far."



Ginny remained unfazed. "You only say that because you're ignorant. Now- look at this hair. So much potential. So much WASTED potential. Sit tight, I'm going to get something out of my suitcase." Ginny left, but quickly scampered back with a glowing pink bottle.



Hermione warily backed into the toilet's tank. "What is that?"



"Just this stuff I picked up for curly hair a few years back. I used to think I had it. Oh, those dark, dark days… " Ginny reminisced back to the times when she'd beg Charlie to try any spell that might give her curly hair.



"…And where did you pick it up?"



"Diagon Alley." Ginny wasted no time in squirting a pool of think pink liquid into her hand and running it through Hermione's hair. The fuzzy brown mane quickly shifted and tightened into shiny curled tendrils. Ginny beamed, and proudly stood back to admire her work. Hermione anxiously stood up and tried to look in the mirror, but Ginny quickly covered her eyes and dragged her out of the bathroom, slamming the door.



"Why can't I see it?" whined Hermione.



"Not until I'm all done. Here, I brought the make-up with me." Ginny applied all the ingredients on the tattered list she dubbed, "Hermione is a Wanker Not to Wear These" on to Hermione's face. Once again she stood back to bask in her self- proclaimed glory.



"How do I look?" asked Hermione curiously.

"Yummy. Not a totally different person, because you were actually very good-looking before the make-up. Anyway, you really match the "natural look". Now for an outfit…"

Ginny strolled over to her closet and pulled out a sparkly pink tube top.



"NO. There is NO way I am wearing that," warned Hermione suspiciously.



"I know. I was thinking of wearing it later. Wouldn't I look great in it?" Ginny enthusiastically held the tiny shirt up to her chest to show Hermione.



"Simply smashing. I thought you were going to dress ME up."



"Me, me, me. Is that all you ever think about?" Ginny hung the tube top back up in her closet.



"I'm not even going to dignify that question with an answer." Now completely fed up with Ginny's nonsense, Hermione stood up and walked towards the door.



"NO! Wait! I'm sorry! Come back, I'll let you borrow…err, a necklace. Just let me change your outfit a bit," pleaded Ginny. Hermione furtively smirked and walked back towards her. "Here, wear…this shirt," Ginny threw a pink-pinstripe shirt with a deep collared neckline on her bed, "And this skirt." She pulled a knee-length brown skirt out of the closet and tossed it towards Hermione.



Hermione got dressed, and after thanking Ginny walked out of the room. Tonight would definitely be interesting.



Harry tossed the last cup of diced tomato into the pot, and sprinkled in more dried oregano. After almost a half-hour of working, his sauce was just about finished. This wasn't the first pot of tomato sauce he had made that evening; he had to discard the last one after Ron accidentally dropped his chocolate frog into the bubbling red mixture.



Ron edged closer to the stovetop. "Can I help now?"



"No. Remember what happened last time?"



"It won't happen again! I don't have any more chocolate."



"Well…I'm almost done, anyway. I don't need any more help." Harry turned off the stove and began spooning large servings of pasta into eight bowls.



"Can't I do anything?" Ron slumped into a chair.



"You can set the table." Harry was now garnishing plates with springs of parsley.



"Set the table? That's a girl's job. Why can't I help with the chicken?"



Harry turned around to face Ron, who was now indignantly crossing his arms. "There's no such thing as a girl's job. And if you want to do something, that's the only thing you can do that will help me." Ron grumbled and began brusquely pulling groups of glass cups from the cupboards. "Be careful, Ron. We don't want to break anything." Ron muttered something under his breath, and stormed over to the dining room. Harry sighed and removed the breaded chicken from the oven.



"Harry! Guess what?" Ginny bounded down the stairs and arrived in the living room. "Harry? Where are you?"



"I'm in the kitchen! It's the door to your right!" he called out the door. Seconds later Ginny skipped into the room.



"Harry! Guess what I did? Mmm, it smells good in here. What are you making?" Ginny poked her head over his shoulder to view the meal that he was preparing. "Oo, you cook better than my mum."



"Thanks. To answer your question, I'm making breaded chicken with linguine and my own recipe for sauce. Oh, and what did you do?"



Ginny clapped her hands once and jumped in excitement. "We- e-ell…IgaveHermioneamakover!"



Harry cocked his head and knitted his brow. "I'm sorry?"



Ginny laughed and placed a hand to her forehead. "Sorry. I just had a WHOLE lot of sugar. I gave Hermione a makeover!"



Ron trudged into the room. "Ron, you can set the table. Ron, you can't help with the food because you're stupid," he grumbled to himself as he lifted two steaming plates of food from the counter and shuffled out the door.



Harry watched sullenly as he left. He snapped out of his thoughts and returned his attention to his girlfriend. "You gave her a what?"



Harry watched curiously as Ginny ran outside and performed a cartwheel. Ron plodded back into the kitchen for more plates. Noticing Ginny, he asked suspiciously, "You didn't give her sugar, did you?" Harry shook his head innocently. "Well you can't- I mean, you can give her SOME sugar but just not that much. She gets crazy."



"Not…'MAD-crazy' but 'giggle-crazy'…right?"



"Yes. She doesn't go MAD, of course. She just gets real hyper." Ron walked outside. "Ginny! What are you doing? You're going to embarrass yourself! Get back in the house!" Harry heard Ginny and Ron arguing outside. "I am not embarrassing myself…Yes, you are, normal people don't go around doing splits and cartwheels…How do you know…Because I'M normal and YOU'RE not…Shut up Ron, you think you're so wicked I just can't stand it…," Ron briskly paced into the kitchen and picked up more plates. He left the room just as Ginny was sulking back into the kitchen.



"Harry, don't listen to Ron. He just doesn't want you to like me."



"I'm sure that's not his intent."



"You didn't live with him for eleven years and three summers. He gets so jealous."



"Believe me, I know how jealous he gets. We've had plenty of fights over that." Harry walked to the door in the kitchen that connected to the back porch. He sat down on the light blue-painted wood and squinted against the harsh afternoon sun. Ginny sat down next to him and rested her chin in her hands.



"I'm so lucky," she said with a slight grin.



"Why's that?" asked Harry sullenly. He felt bad because he knew that lots of Ron's anger indirectly stemmed from his influence.



"You're not violent, or jealous…you don't have a temper, you're not ignorant or slightly prejudiced or anything."



Harry looked up. "Are you saying Ron is like that?"



"No. Not really. I guess he's just hard for me to deal with because I know WAY too much about him. Like, all of his bad characteristics totally stick out to me because I'm so familiar with him."



Harry nodded. "I know what you mean. Ron's a great chap and all, he just has his bad side like everyone else."



"Exactly. Well you don't really have a bad side, or at least not that I know of."



"Of course I have a bad side, everyone does. I just don't wave it around like a banner."



"Know what? I really don't know that much about you."



"Then ask me some questions."



Ginny leaned back on her elbows. "Let's see…what's your favorite subject?"



"You mean like in school?"



"Overall. Like in the entire world."



"Not arithmetic, that's for sure. Maybe literature, I like writing."



"Really? You write stories?"



"Actually I did write one a while back. But I'm embarrassed of it now…it had a stupid plot, and I really had no idea what I was saying."



"How old were you when you wrote it? What was it about?"



"I think I was around ten. I don't really want to talk about what it was about, it was just really…lame. I'm ashamed of it now."



Ginny raised an eyebrow, but decided to let the subject go. "Okay…other than dementors or You-Know-Who, what are you most afraid of?"



Harry paused. "Pelicans and big fish."



Ginny snorted. "What's so scary about pelicans?"



Harry bolted up. "What's so scary? They're huge, and have these enormous beaks that could bite your head off," Harry spread his arms about two feet, "That are like THIS big, and…stop laughing! They really are terrifying!" Ginny just laughed and shook her head.



"Okay Gin, now it's my turn to ask questions. What sports did you play before Hogwarts and Quidditch?"



"I don't know if ballet and gymnastics count as sports."



"Gymnastics counts. It's in the Olympics." Harry sat back down next to her. "So you're a dancer?"



"Well I WAS. I'm still fairly flexible, though. Want to see me put my legs behind my head?"



Harry stared at her, bewildered. "Doesn't that hurt? I'd pull every muscle in my body if I tried that move."



Ginny smiled proudly. "Not for me. I can do many things like that. I can do back handsprings, arials, flips…can you do any of those?"



"Err…I can't do much. The best I can do is a back-flip."



"That's still good. New question: do you play any instruments?"

"Yes, I can play some songs on the piano."

"How did you learn? I thought your family hates you." Ginny immediately regretted her last comment and nervously sputtered an apology. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to let that slip out- not that I really do think that, it just popped into my head and out my mouth- you know?"



Harry shook his head. "Don't worry about it, it's true. Anyway, I learned how to play the piano from this mean old lady that used to watch me when they went places. She wanted me to 'be good at something'. So can you play any instruments?"



"I can play the violin a bit. I'm not very good, though. What can you play on the piano?"



"Well, one of my favorite compositions to play is by Tchaikovsky, it's called-" As per usual, Ginny cut him off.



She stared at him, bewildered. "That's classical music! Why haven't I ever heard you play the piano before?"



Harry shrugged. "You don't have a piano, and it isn't like there's one available to me at Hogwarts."



Ginny lost her shocked expression, and replaced it with a soft smile. "I guess we're just learning a lot about each other today."



Harry broke the brief lull in the conversation. "When did you stop acting so shy around me?"



Ginny sat up. "What do you mean?"



"You never used to act so comfortable around me…well, at least not before maybe a few months ago. What happened?"



"I don't know. I guess just started talking to you more, and the more I got to know you the less I worshipped you like some kind of god."



Harry nodded. "We should go inside now. I don't want to have to re-heat the food I just made." He stood up and held open the door for Ginny, but before she accepted his invitation she asked one more question.



"When did you first take interest in me?"



Harry blushed and smiled softly. "I don't know what happened to you last summer. You must have been taking steroids or something, because you really matured- mentally AND physically…if you know what I mean."



Ginny grinned. "Thanks. Why don't you tell Ron that?"



"I enjoy having the use of my legs."



"He wouldn't paralyze you."



Harry snorted. "If he was mad enough. Come on, I don't want the others to think that we're 'doing anything' out here."



"Especially Ron?"



"Especially Ron."