Disillusionment

Chapter 4

The Yule Ball: Part I

A/N: Webster's dictionary defines "disillusionment" as "a freeing or a being freed from illusion or conviction; disenchantment."

Just in case you have no idea how the title is relevant to the story.

I apologize for the lack of updates, and for going off on a RonHermione rampage instead of working on this. It was fun, though, and I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed "Swear" or "Just This Once." You made my day. And of course, a huge thanks goes to everyone who has reviewed "Disillusionment."

So now, without further ado, I present chapter four.

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"Hermione, don't move about like that—it's going to mess up your hair—"

"Parvati's right. You have to sit still, at least for a while. Here, I'll put a spell on it in a minute to keep it from falling out of place."

"Ginny, just what do you think are you doing?"

"You two are so hopeless. Can't you just sit still and let us do the work for you?"

"Hermione, you're not in your dress robes yet! How on earth are you supposed to get in them without messing up your hair?"

"Ginny, stop moving your head—you just made me mess up on your makeup—"

"Hermione, I'm going to have to undo the clips on your hair—"

Two simultaneous shrieks of frustration were issued from the aforementioned Ginny and Hermione, followed by absolute silence. Ginny stood up resolutely, grabbed Hermione's arm, and marched out of the bathroom in which they stood crowded around the mirrors, getting ready for the Yule Ball.

"Where do you think you're going?" Lavender and Parvati barked. "We're not done yet!"

Ginny led Hermione into the third years' dormitories, where they both collapsed onto Ginny's bed, not caring that their hair was now completely ruined.

"Thanks, Ginny," Hermione said. "That was a nightmare, it really was."

Ginny nodded vigorously. "I can't believe we let Parvati and Lavender talk us into this."

Hermione sat up and checked herself in Ginny's mirror. "Oh, my hair looks like a fright. And you—" She turned to examine Ginny. "Lavender put far too much makeup on you. You look severely sleep deprived."

Ginny took the mirror, peered in, and laughed. "I do, don't I? I think we can do a much better job of this ourselves." She checked her watch. "It's seven right now. We have about forty-five minutes to fix the damage. Think we can do it?"

"We can try."

The girls leaped off from the bed and clustered around the mirror, observing each other and making suggestions. Then, armed with potions and palettes of makeup and brushes, they went to work.

Forty minutes later, they set down their tools and examined each other. Hermione, clad in a floaty, periwinkle robe, was stunning. Her hair had been removed of all its bushiness thanks to Sleekeazy's Hair Potion, and had been twisted into an elegant knot. Ginny had applied miniscule amounts of makeup to accent Hermione's facial features, and the effect was better than she could have imagined.

"Oh, Hermione," Ginny said, eyeing her work in satisfaction. "You look beautiful."

Hermione flushed with pleasure. "You do too, Ginny. Really."

Ginny looked at herself in the mirror one last time. Her coppery hair hung in loose curls below her shoulders, and her cream-colored robes, although secondhand, fit her perfectly. The terrifying amount of makeup Lavender had applied had been scoured away, replaced by slight touches of makeup where it seemed appropriate. Ginny smiled at her reflection, then smiled at Hermione. Hermione smiled back, exposing rows of perfectly aligned white teeth.

"Ready?" Ginny asked, gesturing toward the staircase that would lead down to the common room.

Hermione nodded, and they exited the dormitory. A flutter of excitement rose in Ginny as she descended down the staircase and saw Neville waiting for her in a corner. She was suddenly and inexplicably optimistic about this evening; somehow, she was sure that something good was bound to come out of it.

Ginny did a quick scan of the room for Harry, but he was nowhere to be seen. Dismissing the thought from her mind, she waved goodbye to Hermione and crossed the room to Neville.

"Hi," she said brightly.

"Hi," Neville said. His eyes traveled from her head to toes. "You look—er—really nice, Ginny."

"Thanks. You do too." It was true. Neville's navy blue dress robes suited him well, and he wasn't slouching for once, giving him a much more open and confident air.

"Shall we go, then?" Neville awkwardly offered Ginny his arm, and they left the common room.

The giant oak doors to the Great Hall were already open by the time Ginny and Neville arrived. They entered, and Ginny stared in wonderment at the decorations. The walls of the hall were sparkling with frost, and thick strands of ivy and mistletoe hung from the ceiling and walls. A large space was cleared in the center of the hall for dancing. Round tables occupied the rest of the space.

"It's pretty," Ginny murmured.

"It is." Neville led Ginny deeper into the hall, where most of the students were gathered.

Soft music sounded, and the champions and their partners moved into the center of the hall to dance. Ginny stood up on her toes to get a better view. Hermione was positively glowing as she danced with Krum. Ginny looked among the crowd for Ron and was rather pleased to see that he was glowering. Harry, dressed in robes of a bottle green color that precisely matched the shade of his eyes, looked wonderful, and while he had evidently made an effort to tame his hair, it still stuck up adorably. Ginny edged closer to the center of the hall and watched him as he danced with Parvati Patil. She was glad to see that he didn't look quite comfortable, though she was less pleased to see that he was staring mesmerized at Cho Chang.

The last strains of the song ended, and the students clapped enthusiastically. A new tune struck up. Neville turned to Ginny and smiled.

"Would you like to dance?"

"Sure." Ginny took Neville's hand and led him to the center of the floor. He awkwardly placed his hands around her waist, and she laced her fingers around his neck. They rotated around the spot, swaying slightly to the beat. The song was slow, and it wasn't bad at all, dancing with Neville.

That was, until Ginny felt a sharp pain shooting up her foot.

"Sorry!" Neville said quickly. "Sorry, I'm not really the best dancer—I have a tendency to step on people's toes. I'm really sorry."

"It's okay," Ginny said. The next few seconds passed without incidence, and then Neville trod on Ginny's foot again. He apologized immediately, and Ginny managed a weak smile.

The rest of the song passed excruciatingly slowly. The first three times Neville stepped on Ginny's foot, she forgave him readily. After the nineteenth time, however, her patience began to wear thin. Yet she couldn't exactly allow herself to become angry with him—he was trying his best, and he apologized profusely after every mishap.

They were now dancing quite close to Harry and Parvati. Harry saw Ginny wince and offered a sympathetic smile. Suddenly, everything in the world seemed all right again, and Ginny smiled back. Neville stepped on her foot yet again, and her smile disappeared.

The song ended, and Ginny practically raced off the dance floor and into one of the seats at the tables. Neville followed her at a jog, bewildered.

"I'm hungry," Ginny announced by way of an explanation, scooting her chair farther from the desk and intending to massage her feet. Then, realizing that was not the most polite thing to do at the dinner table, she pushed her chair closer to the table and sat with her hands folded in front of her plate.

The method of serving all the students was quite ingenious; all one had to do was to specify the food of choice and clap his hands, and the food would appear. Ginny helped herself to roast beef, while Neville enthusiastically shoveled baked chicken into his mouth.

"Ginny," he said presently after he had chewed and swallowed.

His tone of voice was quite serious. Ginny stopped eating to focus on him. "What?"

Neville pushed his food around his plate with his fork. "I'm—I'm really glad you decided to come with me, Ginny." He let his fork clatter back onto the plate and met her eyes shyly. "Thank you."

"Oh, Neville." Ginny leaned over to give him a clumsy, one-armed hug. "You don't have to thank me. Thank you for asking me."

Neville smiled. They finished their dinner in silence, applauding when the Weird Sisters began to play their first song.

"Would you like to dance?" Neville asked.

Ginny hesitated, wondering how much torture her feet could take. "Okay," she said finally. It was only one dance, after all, and Neville had been awfully nice to her this evening.

She quickly regretted her decision as soon as they stepped out onto the dance floor. Her feet, having already been stomped on numerous times, were protesting adamantly against the treatment they received. She was quite sure that if she took off her shoes to examine her feet, they would be covered with blue and purple bruises.

A strange prickling at the back of Ginny's neck caused her to snap her head back. It was the distinct feeling that she was being watched, and as she turned around, she saw that someone was indeed staring at her. A dark-haired, dark-eyed someone was looking at her the way that she had always wanted to be looked at by Harry.

Confused, Ginny quickly turned around to see if there was a pretty girl behind her; after all, it didn't seem very likely that a handsome boy could possibly be looking at her in that way. However, no one was behind her except for Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall waltzing, and she sincerely hoped that the boy was not staring at them in that way.

She turned back to the boy, who gave her a small smile. She smiled hesitantly back and turned to face Neville again. She was delusional, certainly—why would anyone look at her that way, and a stranger, no less?

The song ended, and Ginny gratefully began to hobble toward the tables.

"I think that's enough dancing for now, don't you?" she said to Neville, her voice strained with false cheerfulness. "We can dance later if you want."

Neville nodded at her. "Of course. Do you want something to drink?"

"Just iced pumpkin juice, please. Thanks, Neville."

Neville nodded again and headed off to obtain drinks. Ginny half-ran the rest of the way to the tables, nearly twisting her ankle in the process ("Damn high heels!") and collapsing into a chair. Removing her shoes with some difficulty, she bent down to examine her feet. Fresh bruises of varying shades of color were blossoming over them. She scowled and gingerly poked a bruise, then immediately winced.

"Hi."

Ginny looked up to see who had spoken to her, and to her utmost horror, it was the handsome boy who had just been staring at her. She hurriedly tried to cram her feet back into her shoes.

"Hi," she responded, blushing furiously.

He watched her as she struggled with her shoes, half amused and half sympathetic. "Are you all right? What happened there?"

"Oh, you know—dancing and—partners treading on your feet—" With one final tug, she managed to fit her feet inside her shoes. Snapping the buckles back in place, she looked up to give the boy a sheepish smile.

He smiled back at her, a bit uneasily. Silence descended on the two.

"Erm…" Ginny began.

"I'm Michael," said the boy suddenly, kneeling to look at her at eye level. "Would you like to dance?"

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A/N (again, sorry): A very happy holiday to you all, whichever one you celebrate!

I bear no particular fondness for Michael Corner, but I do think that he helped Ginny get over Harry (somewhat) and therefore she can act normally around Harry and show him what she's really like. Harry and Ginny will get together eventually… in the seventh book, perhaps. I know they will.

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