It had been a month since what Hermione and Ginny now called The Crappy Day. Pansy and Draco's breakup had resulted in a very angry Pansy interviewing for all of the wizarding tabloids, such as Mercury and The Daily Spark. Draco was now being sought after as the 'Richest Eligible Bachelor in England'. Hermione and Ginny had a good long laugh after reading that, giggling at Draco's brooding face taking up the entire front page and the tiny picture that they had included of Pansy yelling.
A week after the articles had calmed down, Ginny was rummaging in the fridge for a late night snack; 12:46 and she was starved. Geoff had given her tonight off on the accounts of reporters coming 'round to ask them both about Draco's breakup and the food; in short, it was a madhouse. She sat down, comfortable in her fuzzy green pyjama pants, and her eye caught the now old newspaper. Carefully picking it up, she grabbed a quill that was lying about and meticulously drew a bushy moustache on Draco's face. It completely ruined his smirk. The Draco in the picture scowled and tried to rub it off, to no avail. Ginny giggled, turning the paper over and laying down the quill. With a pint of Ben and Jerry's in hand, she flopped onto the couch and turned the TV on, captions included so that Hermione wouldn't wake up and be cranky with her.
'Stock markets have crashed alarmingly today…" the now mute newscaster was saying and Ginny sighed, changing the channel. She never understood the Muggle stock market, no matter how many times Hermione and Harry had tried to explain it to her and her brother. 'Oh Charles…you are my sun and moon…I can't live without you,' a heaving blonde was saying. Ginny snuggled herself into the couch popping a bite of ice cream into her mouth giggling silently to herself. Soap operas she got without explanation. 'Joanna, I love you like I never loved my wife!' the tall man with dark hair declared through captions. Joanna was just opening her mouth, probably only to place it on his gaping gob, when Hermione's door creaked open to reveal a grumpy looking Hermione behind it. Ginny picked up the remote and sheepishly turned the television off.
"Er sorry. Couldn't sleep?" Ginny offered, trying to discreetly hide the ice cream behind her. Without a word, Hermione walked over to her and grabbed the ice cream bucket out of her hand.
She looked at it and read the title off of it. "'Go Phish.' Oh I get it- a pun," Hermione said, not sounding like she got it at all. Ginny got up on her knees and grabbed for the ice cream, failing her attempt.
"Oh give over Hermione, I'm hungry!" she whined when Hermione started walking back towards the freezer.
"No ice cream, I thought we agreed!" Hermione said, throwing the ice cream back in. "I thought we were dieting together! What happened to 'we're in this together Hermione, we'll look gorgeous for that event!'" Hermione mocked, looking increasingly bad tempered. Ginny leaned back, frowning.
"I don't even want to go to that bloody social thing," she muttered, crossing her arms. Indeed, ever since she had heard about it the idea hadn't been appealing.
Her mum had owled them in good spirits, informing them that an invitation to the Ministry of Magic's Annual Social was going to be held shortly. Ginny had scowled and said "My mother is the only one I know who would owl us about an incoming owl." Almost immediately after receiving her mother's owl, a Ministry owl came flying in, bearing a thick cream envelope with the Ministry seal on it. Hermione had opened it excitedly, squealing when she saw her name embossed in bold. It had declared that every Ministry member may bring 'one friend', to which Hermione immediately looked at Ginny with huge puppy pleading eyes. At first Ginny had been very difficult, saying she had work, had a show to watch, anything to get out of the Social. Ginny never liked dances and such, even in Hogwarts she hadn't liked them- especially since the one where she had emerged with countless blisters from Neville stepping on her feet. But in the end, Hermione had won, and Ginny was going to the Social as her 'friend' mentioned in the letter. Hermione had excitedly owled Harry and Ron, and found out that Harry was going dateless and Ron (who had taken over for his father when he retired) was as well. Needless to say, this information made both girls much happier.
"Oh come on, you can stun Harry out of his socks with a gorgeous outfit," Hermione said teasingly. Ginny turned scarlet, throwing a pillow at her head.
"You know perfectly well he doesn't wear socks," Ginny answered, sounding like the crush-stricken girl she was in school. Hermione raised an eyebrow but dropped that particular subject.
"Point in fact is that you're coming whether you like it or not. Besides, it's Muggle Dress, and that's your line of specialty. You'll look fab, you know you will." Ginny considered this.
"Yeah you're right I will," she replied roguishly, running into her room and shutting the door behind her. A muffled 'G'night!' came from it, making Hermione grin and walk into her own room to get some sleep.
--
The next day, Hermione was up at 5:45, going through her clothes in exasperation. Though she'd never admit it, today was the day before the Social, the day where the dateless become…dateful. Practically from the time she had met him, Hermione had only been after one guy: Ronald T. Weasley. It was painful how much she liked him, maybe even loved him, but she never could make the first move. Hell, she hadn't even had a boyfriend until 7th year, and even then Seamus was just a friend who happened to be with her more often than usual. He had supplied her first kiss, sure, but Hermione failed to see what was so special about kissing. It was all wet and uncomfortable, with neither participant knowing where to put themselves. Or maybe that was just her.
She held up a pair of black pants critically before her, inspecting them to deem their worthiness. Tossing them on her bed into the 'Maybe' pile, Hermione continued to seek her perfect outfit. Exasperated, she sat down heavily on her bed, clutching a pair of flip flops in despair. She looked up and met the raised eyebrow of Ginny.
"Ron won't care Hermione," she said simply, sitting next to her. Hermione was startled.
"But- how did you know?" she asked, at a loss. Ginny laughed.
"Hermione, if no one else knows besides me, the world is blind. And that goes for my git of a brother too." She looked down at the pile of clothes Hermione had assembled on the bed. "You know, you're not doing so badly by yourself here."
"Really?" Hermione asked anxiously, desperately needing to hear 'yes'. Ginny nodded.
"Yeah…these trousers and this top would be smashing, don't you think?" Ginny asked, holding up the black pants from before and a red shirt that plunged not too low, but low enough for the purpose. Hermione took it from Ginny's hands, weighing the clothes in her efficient mind.
"I suppose so…" Ginny smiled, relieved.
"Good. Now I'm going to get changed and then you're going to go to work while I walk around, and then you'll meet me at the coffee shop and relay all the details to me. Understood?" Hermione saluted smartly.
"Yes ma'am! All clear ma'am!" Ginny grinned and left Hermione to get changed.
--
Ginny had gone off to do her walking thing and Hermione was nervous. Upon putting the aforementioned shirt on, she realized that although Ginny was right in saying it looked good, it made her extremely self conscious about her chest area. It drew much more attention than she was going for; but that was good right? Taking a deep breath, she walked through the portal and was whisked into the Ministry office. As usual, the bombardment of memos and urgent notices were thrust at her, and she waved them away; her daily routine, once again began. Outside, it was gray like London always is (unless you're extremely lucky) and it was gray inside, but Hermione was hoping to glimpse the flash of red she longed to impress.
--
Sunglasses are unnecessary on a cloudy day, but Ginny always had a pair perched on her head or in front of eyes; she found they made her look mysterious, and she liked that. Today, she wasn't in the Muggle realm, since she had a lot of preparing to do for this Social thing. Muggle products weren't going to cut it for how stunning she'd have to look.
For Ginny, the Social wasn't about impressing Harry like countless people had hinted at her. It wasn't even about being the prettiest one there, although it was a tempting proposition. No, Ginny knew that all the wizarding Big Shots would be there, looking around and talking to people…maybe offering jobs. And as much as Ginny loved Geoff to death, she couldn't spend another minute in that restaurant. It was time to make something out of the female counterpart of the recent Weasley generation.
Ginny strode across Diagon Alley as if her feet had little wings towards Frieda Ferlaterio's Freestyling: a fancy term for a salon. She opened the door carefully and a little bell went off somewhere in the depths of the salon. Barely being heard over the magical whirring of the machines, Ginny stood waiting for service for a good five minutes before someone noticed her.
A short witch with flyaway black hair came up to her, a comb in her teeth. She spat it out into her hand and smiled up at Ginny, who smiled nervously back. "First time dearie?" she asked, making it sound like a bartender at an eighteen year old's party.
"Err yes I suppose so," Ginny replied, looking around and wondering whether she had made the right decision. The witch saw her hesitation and grabbed her arm quickly.
"I guarantee a satisfied mirror at the end, or your money back and a free re-makeover," she offered, scribbling something down and peering at Ginny's hair. Ginny sighed.
"Fine, work your magic," she said wearily. At this point, someone else doing all the hard work was welcome. The witch beamed.
"Excellent! By the way, I'm Frieda, so you don't have to worry," she assured Ginny, pointing to the large banner above the counter which bore her name. Ginny laughed weakly.
"I won't."
"Good. Let's get started shall we?" Frieda motioned for her to sit. Confused, Ginny obeyed. "First off, I have to ask- is that dyed?" she asked, looking at Ginny's hair enviously. Ginny couldn't believe her ears; someone wanted her hair that was so un-agreeable?
"No, not it's not actually," she replied. Frieda's thick black eyebrows shot up and she scribbled something down rapidly.
"Lovely! And your usual daily makeup?" she inquired. Ginny didn't know what that had to do with anything, but she answered anyway.
"Mascara, lip gloss, blusher," she rattled off, making sure she got everything, even though 'everything' was barely anything. Frieda was now writing so fast that steam was coming from under her quill. Ginny watched in alarm, but Frieda stopped writing just at the moment it was about to burst into flames.
"All right then, let's get started!" Ginny found herself being propelled forwards by at least three house elves into a chair, where Frieda gleefully advanced on her hair, wand outstretched.
--
"I don't want to bloody go!" Draco yelled into the phone. "You know I hate those kinds of things…and with the bloody press everywhere, it's enough to drive me mad!" Frustrated, he groped about on his desk for a drink and his hand met the cool, comforting glass surface of his brandy glass. He downed it, winced at the sweetness of the liquid and resumed yelling. "Especially if I have to get in a sodding suit, now wouldn't that just top it off?" Draco slammed the phone down, heaving. Taking another small sip of brandy, he shook himself and was composed once again. The invitation to the Ministry Social was lying on his desk, half open like it was a death threat. He eyed it suspiciously before getting up and pacing around the room in an anxious circle.
"If I go, the press won't leave me alone…" he muttered. "…but if I don't show up, they'll say something about how much I'm pining for Pansy or some crap like that." Stopping dead, he weighed his options; neither looked very promising. However, the thought of having people think that he missed his pug-faced ex made him cringe, so it looked like Draco Malfoy had only one option in reality. He had to go.
Grabbing his coat, he yelled to Marvelle that he was taking a walk and would be back in an hour or so. "I need some time to think," he explained to the blank but curious stare of the house elf. She nodded and went back to the laundry without another glance. Draco snatched a piece of bread and Apparated to Diagon Alley in the same instant.
As a result, he ended up in front of a beauty salon with a piece of bread shoved in his mouth. Needless to say, he got some questioning looks, as if inquiring about his sanity. He scowled darkly at the offenders and swallowed the bread, the lump getting caught frequently on its way down his throat. The lights of the beauty salon were twinkling annoyingly in his eye: Frieda Ferlaterio's Freestyling. "What a God awful name," he mumbled, scowling at the bright lights. A flash of blonde hair caught his eye from inside the parlor and he groaned despite himself. The last thing he needed was Pansy! Unfortunately for Draco though, she had very keen eyesight and immediately ran out to grab him. He turned around quickly to escape into the Quidditch store but she was much too fast for him. She pulled him in the salon, deaf to his bellowed cursing, and threw him on a chair opposite one of those whirly machines. Sitting herself down, Draco couldn't help but admire her strength; she was incredibly…beefy for a short girl like herself.
"Good God Pansy, what do I need to do to get it through your head?" Draco asked in complete irritation. She smiled coyly at him.
"Get what through my head?"
"A bullet," Draco answered immediately. "Got a gun anywhere sweet?" Pansy's face changed from flirtatious to terrified in an instant, making Draco smirk in triumph.
"Oh relax, I'm not going to shoot you," he said, wishing to add 'although I wish I could.'
"Of course, I knew that," Pansy replied, trying to save some face. Draco snorted.
"You don't know jack. Now can I please leave?" Draco asked, attempting to be polite but getting up despite Pansy's lack of an answer.
"No!" she protested as a blue haired witch began highlighting her hair.
Draco rolled his eyes and pushed open the door slightly. "I wasn't waiting for your answer," he said matter-of-factly. Pansy's expression faltered.
"I-I know that, but-"
"Honestly Malfoy, would it kill you to hear her out?" came a voice from the back. Draco and Pansy both jumped, then narrowed their eyes.
"Who is that?" Draco asked the Unknown Voice, obviously annoyed, at the same time Pansy exclaimed "Thank you!"
The person chose not to answer. Pansy looked up at Draco beseechingly. "Could you just please listen to me?" Draco sat down, disgruntled.
"Talk."
--
An hour later, Pansy's entire head was much blonder and Draco was much more bored. He checked his watch, but it was only two more minutes after his last check of the time. He hadn't been listening to a word the distressed blonde in front of him had been saying, but it was still possibly the most aggravating event he'd ever had to sit through. Pansy was just in the middle of explaining why their kids would have been beautiful when Draco stood up. "I have to leave no. Fascinating although your story was, I don't think I'll be considering being your lapdog anytime soon. Good day." He nodded his head and left before she could get started on another rant.
Outside the store, Draco leaned against the wall and breathed in, feeling lucky to be alive after that torture. He conjured up a chair and sat looking at the people who went by with narrowed eyes, as if daring them to come closer. The door opened again, and Draco pressed himself up against the wall just in case it was Pansy come out to talk to him again. To his surprise, it was someone else, and from the looks of her was nothing like Pansy was. He watched curiously as she walked on and then a jolt of shock went through him when he saw a piece of red hair peek out from under her headscarf. "Weasley," he breathed, thinking maliciously of all the idle insults he could make while passing her. He got up, made the chair disappear and followed her, his long strides out striding her only ever so slightly. It wasn't so long before he caught up to her. "So-" She stopped and turned around, her brown eyes up to the brim in dislike.
"So what Malfoy? Come to thrust another unwanted memory on me? A Harry joke? Maybe a Weasley one, is it the red hair, freckles, or money problem you're going to address this time?" she spat, taking Draco completely by surprise. "Is it a 'you just tag along' wisecrack, my those were popular," Ginny ranted, feeding off of the look of shock on his face. "Or-"
"A ferret joke?" he cut in, deciding to get his own back. "Or a peroxide related insult? Or maybe you're not going to bother with the appearance crap and cut straight to blood- Malfoy blood. Going to tell me that I should rot in Azkaban like my father Weasel?" he asked her, getting steamed up himself. Her confident demeanor wavered for a second before she straightened herself up.
"What, switching this around to you? It always has to be about you, doesn't it Malfoy? Some things never change," she added, looking at his expensive looking outfit. Draco raised an eyebrow.
"I seem to recall a certain someone making it about her," he countered scathingly. "How do you know I wasn't just going to say 'So how are things?' or 'So I hear you're still tall' or something like that?" Ginny looked at him as though he were the stupidest person she had ever encountered.
"Because the Draco Malfoy I know would never even consider it," she whispered. There was one second's pause before Ginny turned and walked away, heels clicking on the cobbled stones evenly. Draco glared at her back, angrier than he had been when he got the Social invitation. All of a sudden, a glimmer of an idea formulated in his practiced mind; he yelled out after her "Are you going to this Social thing?" Ginny stopped and turned on her heel.
"If you're going too then I fail to see how it will be enjoyable," she said, and then Apparated out of sight. Draco laughed to himself for a brief moment, thinking of the fun games he would execute on Miss Virginia Weasley the next night.
--
A/N: okay first off, I want to say I hated my last chapter and wanted to make it up to you. I like this chapter actually, and I hope you guys do too. I want to thank Lucy (can't remember your special characters, sorry!) and Violante, who have reviewed me and made me keep on going. Thanks!
And I know I promised a Harry and Ron sighting, but it just didn't fit in this chapter. I promise they'll be in next chapter- it is the Social after all.