Chapter 25: Once Upon A Dream-Part One

Once again, I am attempting to finish this story. I am struggling, but I love this story and I want to get it done. Thank you thank you thank you for all the wonderful reviews, criticisms, and suggestions. I really take everything you say into consideration and think about all that info when I write.

On with the show…

"She's what?"

"Coming to the ball, like some seriously deluded Cinderella. You don't think she's made amends with him do you?" Blaise stared at Pansy who was busy trying on various robes from her closet. The blond had spent all morning laughing hysterically at the papers that were depicting Hermione as a complete mental-case who was holding on to an old 'childish' rivalry. 'Serves her right, that stupid slag. Who does she think she is, walking around in her fancy outfits, traipsing around her bloody manor, and shagging my Draco? We'll see who he takes home tonight.' Pansy found a pair of ill-fitting turquoise robes in the back of Blaise's wardrobe. A few spells and she managed to make the dress presentable enough to wear that evening. Sighing, she turned and looked at Blaise who was lounging on her bed flipping through an old fashion magazine. Feeling a bit irritated, Pansy stomped over to the bed and ripped the magazine from Blaise's hands.

"Aren't you going to make some effort to get ready? It's nearly five o' clock. You haven't even picked out a dress to wear!"

Blaise, ignoring Pansy's little outburst, sat up on the bed and stared defiantly at her lover. "I honestly don't think I would be of much use to anyone by attending this ball to begin with. Go, finish what you've started, and call me in the morning." Jumping off the bed, Blaise stepped out of the room leaving Pansy in a huff.

"Blaise!" Pansy ran out of the room to find Blaise casually tidying up the living room, which was still a bit cluttered from the incident the night before. "You can't just say 'no' to me! I brought you back here. I am doing all of this for us! For you!"

"Are you?" Blaise spun around looking Pansy in the eye. Never before had Blaise been so angered by Pansy. "Are you really? Because for a moment there I thought you were ruining Hermione's life because you hate her and hate the fact that Draco even took up with her, even if it was a stupid little ploy! And I thought you were only trying to get back with Draco because you miss sleeping on satin pillows and eating seven-course meals and having servants do your every bidding! Forgive me for thinking that you're the most selfish bitch in the world!"

Smack!

The sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed in the small flat. Without another word, Blaise disapparated from the flat leaving Pansy standing in the living room clutching her reconstructed dress and staring at the space where Blaise had stood moments before.

'Forget her,' Pansy told herself. She turned around and marched back into the bedroom. 'I have a party to crash.'

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Harry was having a bit of trouble as he got ready that evening. He had somehow managed completely botch getting his muggle tux on. 'Stupid bow-tie, stupid tuxedo, I look like a bloody—'

"—PENGUIN! I am a freakishly tall, red-headed penguin! I do not like this one bit Harry." Turning around, Harry caught sight of Ron pacing back and forth in the hallway outside his bedroom. After managing to cast the proper spell, Harry stepped out into the hallway to join Ron, his bow-tie still a bit crooked.

"Merlin, I feel a bit ridiculous, mate." Ron nodded his head in agreement with Harry. They both stepped into the living room and sat down on the sofa.

"Harry, tell me again why we decided not to invite dates?"

"Because Hermione will be there and she needs us. Also, we need to be free to either help Hermione and Draco sort this mess up, or hurt Draco in the worst physical way possible."

"Right, forgot about that."

Pop!

"Well? What say you boys?" Harry and Ron looked up and saw a woman dressed in a cream coloured gown. The gown was long and the bodice dipped into a deep "V" that showed an ample set of—

"YOU PUT THOSE AWAY VIRGINIA WEASLEY! Harry! Tell her to put those, those, those…..ugh! Put them away! Mum and Dad are going to be there! And photographers! They'll all think that you're some sort of---harlot! Some scarlet woman!"

"Honestly, Ron, I think she looks rather fantastic," gushed Harry. He quickly dodged a curse that Ron shot his way while laughing heartily at the situation.

"Ron, seriously, let's just get going. We promised Hermione that we would be at Stoneybrooke by seven to pick her up!" Rushing his two friends out of the flat, Harry locked the doors and the three friends walked out into the street where Hermione had a car waiting for them. Not another word was said about Ginny's dress.

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"Dahhhhling, this is gonna look fahhhhntahhhstic on you!" Several sparks of color flew around the enourmous bathroom at Stoneybrooke. Hermione had hired a rather eccentric, but wildly popular hair and makeup stylist to get her ready for the ball. Her dress, which she had designed herself, was hanging on the mannequin she had used to make the dress out in her sitting room. At that moment, Hermione was struggling not to cry as unknown beauty spells were thrown at her from angry angle.

'Note to self: Update beauty spell books,' thought Hermione as her stylist threw a spell at her hair making it go from a rather messy updo to a sleek and classic chignon held together by a row of sparkling coral orchids that seemed enchanted to twinkle about her hair.

"Stop!" Hermione held her hand over her head. "Razzty, this is perfect," she cooed to the stylist who looked as though he wanted something that would be more 'in-your-face' than a classic hairstyle, but this was one of the most influential women in wizarding England, Europe perhaps. Just being written up about doing her hair was enough publicity to keep his business in top form for at least three years.

"Awww…dahhlling," droned Razztavian in a slightly bored, yet joking voice. He had a soft, American southern drawl that always made him sound so bothered. "I just don't know what to do with you and your gorgeous face and hair and everything. That gown of yours should have hair and make-up that make people want to drop their trousers and—"

"Razz, honestly, you don't need to finish that sentence. I think I look pretty alright."

"Pretty alright?" The stylist dropped his wand and pretended to pout in the corner. It was times like these and characters like Razztavian that Hermione needed the most, when she was full of sadness and anger all at once.

Razztavian looked back and expected Hermione to continue teasing him, but he just saw her sitting in her chair staring off.

"Miss 'Mione, why so glum? You look dazzling and wonderful! I don't know about the rest of the people at that ball, but I sure know that you'll be prettiest one there!" Smiling, Hermione stood up and walked out into her sitting room. Razztavian dismissed his assistants and followed Hermione. Slipping on her dress, Hermione's heart felt heavy, knowing that no matter how happy she was going to try to be for her friends, nothing would change the fact that the first man she truly thought she was falling in love with used her. 'And to think all these years I've been telling myself that this would happen.' As a single tear threatened to escape, Hermione tilted her head back, took a deep breath and turned around.

Her hair stylist just smiled broadly. "Honey, you look divine. No more of this uptight-corporate-wear-a-bun image. You need to get out there are wow them all!"

Hermione turned and smiled broadly at the eccentric man. "You're right, Razz. Thank you again, I look fantastic!"

"Honey," said Razztavian, using his wand to clean up the sitting room, "you make my job easy." And with a pop! he disapparated.

Hermione turned back to the mirror and surveyed her image. She had to admit she looked striking in her own creation-her dress was a pale gold that was so sheer one would expect to see right through the dress. It was perfect for the outdoor ball that was being held near the Mediterranean coast. . Her pale skin and dark hair offset the light colours of the dress, making her glow. A set of earrings and a simple diamond necklace completed the look. Adding a bit of gloss onto her lips, Hermione grabbed her clutch and made her way downstairs.

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"Well, they sure went all out when they heard they were inducting you in Potter." The drawl was unmistakable and Harry turned to face Draco, a mixture of annoyance and sympathy on his face.

"It would do you well to just stay clear of her Draco. She's in good spirits now, but that's how she usually is when she's contemplating hexing people into oblivion."

Draco frowned, "I realize that Harry, but I have to talk to her. You and I both know that those pictures were doctored, not to mention someone is illegally distributing polyjuice potion. I have to, whether the outcome is good or not."

Harry stayed silent for a moment in an attempt to distract himself with the opulent ice sculptures that were at each entrance into the outdoor ballroom that International Federation of Wizards had constructed on the cliffs of an undisclosed seaside location. The moon was full and the air was filled with the salty smell of the sea mixed with the aroma of fresh tropical flowers that were arranged at every table. Part of him wanted to intervene and confront Hermione about the fraudulent pictures, but he knew better than to help Hermione fight her battles. Last one he tried to butt into caused him to walk away with a rather nasty scar on his left cheek courtesy of Hermione's extremely powerful right hook.

"Just, well, whatever you do Draco, know that once Hermione makes up her mind, it takes more than a few apologies to make it right."

"That's what I'm afraid of Potter, that's what I'm afraid of," said Draco in barely a whisper as Hermione walked into the room.

Quick Note: here is a picture of what I see Hermione wearing--

Chapter 25: Once Upon A Dream-Part One

Once again, I am attempting to finish this story. I am struggling, but I love this story and I want to get it done. Thank you thank you thank you for all the wonderful reviews, criticisms, and suggestions. I really take everything you say into consideration and think about all that info when I write.

On with the show…

"She's what?"

"Coming to the ball, like some seriously deluded Cinderella. You don't think she's made amends with him do you?" Blaise stared at Pansy who was busy trying on various robes from her closet. The blond had spent all morning laughing hysterically at the papers that were depicting Hermione as a complete mental-case who was holding on to an old 'childish' rivalry. 'Serves her right, that stupid slag. Who does she think she is, walking around in her fancy outfits, traipsing around her bloody manor, and shagging my Draco? We'll see who he takes home tonight.' Pansy found a pair of ill-fitting turquoise robes in the back of Blaise's wardrobe. A few spells and she managed to make the dress presentable enough to wear that evening. Sighing, she turned and looked at Blaise who was lounging on her bed flipping through an old fashion magazine. Feeling a bit irritated, Pansy stomped over to the bed and ripped the magazine from Blaise's hands.

"Aren't you going to make some effort to get ready? It's nearly five o' clock. You haven't even picked out a dress to wear!"

Blaise, ignoring Pansy's little outburst, sat up on the bed and stared defiantly at her lover. "I honestly don't think I would be of much use to anyone by attending this ball to begin with. Go, finish what you've started, and call me in the morning." Jumping off the bed, Blaise stepped out of the room leaving Pansy in a huff.

"Blaise!" Pansy ran out of the room to find Blaise casually tidying up the living room, which was still a bit cluttered from the incident the night before. "You can't just say 'no' to me! I brought you back here. I am doing all of this for us! For you!"

"Are you?" Blaise spun around looking Pansy in the eye. Never before had Blaise been so angered by Pansy. "Are you really? Because for a moment there I thought you were ruining Hermione's life because you hate her and hate the fact that Draco even took up with her, even if it was a stupid little ploy! And I thought you were only trying to get back with Draco because you miss sleeping on satin pillows and eating seven-course meals and having servants do your every bidding! Forgive me for thinking that you're the most selfish bitch in the world!"

Smack!

The sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed in the small flat. Without another word, Blaise disapparated from the flat leaving Pansy standing in the living room clutching her reconstructed dress and staring at the space where Blaise had stood moments before.

'Forget her,' Pansy told herself. She turned around and marched back into the bedroom. 'I have a party to crash.'

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Harry was having a bit of trouble as he got ready that evening. He had somehow managed completely botch getting his muggle tux on. 'Stupid bow-tie, stupid tuxedo, I look like a bloody—'

"—PENGUIN! I am a freakishly tall, red-headed penguin! I do not like this one bit Harry." Turning around, Harry caught sight of Ron pacing back and forth in the hallway outside his bedroom. After managing to cast the proper spell, Harry stepped out into the hallway to join Ron, his bow-tie still a bit crooked.

"Merlin, I feel a bit ridiculous, mate." Ron nodded his head in agreement with Harry. They both stepped into the living room and sat down on the sofa.

"Harry, tell me again why we decided not to invite dates?"

"Because Hermione will be there and she needs us. Also, we need to be free to either help Hermione and Draco sort this mess up, or hurt Draco in the worst physical way possible."

"Right, forgot about that."

Pop!

"Well? What say you boys?" Harry and Ron looked up and saw a woman dressed in a cream coloured gown. The gown was long and the bodice dipped into a deep "V" that showed an ample set of—

"YOU PUT THOSE AWAY VIRGINIA WEASLEY! Harry! Tell her to put those, those, those…..ugh! Put them away! Mum and Dad are going to be there! And photographers! They'll all think that you're some sort of---harlot! Some scarlet woman!"

"Honestly, Ron, I think she looks rather fantastic," gushed Harry. He quickly dodged a curse that Ron shot his way while laughing heartily at the situation.

"Ron, seriously, let's just get going. We promised Hermione that we would be at Stoneybrooke by seven to pick her up!" Rushing his two friends out of the flat, Harry locked the doors and the three friends walked out into the street where Hermione had a car waiting for them. Not another word was said about Ginny's dress.

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

"Dahhhhling, this is gonna look fahhhhntahhhstic on you!" Several sparks of color flew around the enourmous bathroom at Stoneybrooke. Hermione had hired a rather eccentric, but wildly popular hair and makeup stylist to get her ready for the ball. Her dress, which she had designed herself, was hanging on the mannequin she had used to make the dress out in her sitting room. At that moment, Hermione was struggling not to cry as unknown beauty spells were thrown at her from angry angle.

'Note to self: Update beauty spell books,' thought Hermione as her stylist threw a spell at her hair making it go from a rather messy updo to a sleek and classic chignon held together by a row of sparkling coral orchids that seemed enchanted to twinkle about her hair.

"Stop!" Hermione held her hand over her head. "Razzty, this is perfect," she cooed to the stylist who looked as though he wanted something that would be more 'in-your-face' than a classic hairstyle, but this was one of the most influential women in wizarding England, Europe perhaps. Just being written up about doing her hair was enough publicity to keep his business in top form for at least three years.

"Awww…dahhlling," droned Razztavian in a slightly bored, yet joking voice. He had a soft, American southern drawl that always made him sound so bothered. "I just don't know what to do with you and your gorgeous face and hair and everything. That gown of yours should have hair and make-up that make people want to drop their trousers and—"

"Razz, honestly, you don't need to finish that sentence. I think I look pretty alright."

"Pretty alright?" The stylist dropped his wand and pretended to pout in the corner. It was times like these and characters like Razztavian that Hermione needed the most, when she was full of sadness and anger all at once.

Razztavian looked back and expected Hermione to continue teasing him, but he just saw her sitting in her chair staring off.

"Miss 'Mione, why so glum? You look dazzling and wonderful! I don't know about the rest of the people at that ball, but I sure know that you'll be prettiest one there!" Smiling, Hermione stood up and walked out into her sitting room. Razztavian dismissed his assistants and followed Hermione. Slipping on her dress, Hermione's heart felt heavy, knowing that no matter how happy she was going to try to be for her friends, nothing would change the fact that the first man she truly thought she was falling in love with used her. 'And to think all these years I've been telling myself that this would happen.' As a single tear threatened to escape, Hermione tilted her head back, took a deep breath and turned around.

Her hair stylist just smiled broadly. "Honey, you look divine. No more of this uptight-corporate-wear-a-bun image. You need to get out there are wow them all!"

Hermione turned and smiled broadly at the eccentric man. "You're right, Razz. Thank you again, I look fantastic!"

"Honey," said Razztavian, using his wand to clean up the sitting room, "you make my job easy." And with a pop! he disapparated.

Hermione turned back to the mirror and surveyed her image. She had to admit she looked striking in her own creation-her dress was a pale mint green that was so sheer one would expect to see right through the dress. It was strapless and airy, perfect for the outdoor ball that was being held near the Mediterranean coast. The rest of the dress flowed out into layers of chiffon that gave her the appearance of a woodland nymph. Her pale skin and dark hair offset the light colours of the dress, making her glow. A set of earrings and a simple diamond necklace completed the look. Adding a bit of gloss onto her lips, Hermione grabbed her clutch and made her way downstairs.

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"Well, they sure went all out when they heard they were inducting you in Potter." The drawl was unmistakable and Harry turned to face Draco, a mixture of annoyance and sympathy on his face.

"It would do you well to just stay clear of her Draco. She's in good spirits now, but that's how she usually is when she's contemplating hexing people into oblivion."

Draco frowned, "I realize that Harry, but I have to talk to her. You and I both know that those pictures were doctored, not to mention someone is illegally distributing polyjuice potion. I have to, whether the outcome is good or not."

Harry stayed silent for a moment in an attempt to distract himself with the opulent ice sculptures that were at each entrance into the outdoor ballroom that International Federation of Wizards had constructed on the cliffs of an undisclosed seaside location. The moon was full and the air was filled with the salty smell of the sea mixed with the aroma of fresh tropical flowers that were arranged at every table. Part of him wanted to intervene and confront Hermione about the fraudulent pictures, but he knew better than to help Hermione fight her battles. Last one he tried to butt into caused him to walk away with a rather nasty scar on his left cheek courtesy of Hermione's extremely powerful right hook.

"Just, well, whatever you do Draco, know that once Hermione makes up her mind, it takes more than a few apologies to make it right."

"That's what I'm afraid of Potter, that's what I'm afraid of," said Draco in barely a whisper as Hermione walked into the room.

Quick Note: here is a picture of what I see Hermione wearing—

http:www.edressme.com/dinabarel1.html