AN: You wanted more, so here it is.
"Yes, Charlie, I'd love to go to dinner with you this Saturday."
She could hardly say no, could she? Poor Charlie had been humiliated enough by Ron as it was, without her turning him down as well. If it was all just a joke on Ron's part, then they could sort it out quietly, by owl, during the week. Seven days was plenty of time, after all.
However, four days went by without a message from Charlie to cancel their "date". Perhaps he'd forgotten. She wasn't sure if she could cope with sitting through a meal with Charlie – she was embarrassed, mainly because of Ron's tactlessness in setting them up.
On Thursday, the owl she'd been expecting finally arrived.
"Hermione,
Are we still on for dinner? Maybe you could recommend a good muggle restaurant – Ron's threatening to haunt Diagon Alley, and I know he'll be as awkward as possible.
Charlie."
A muggle restaurant. Now that was a good idea. Neither of them would be recognised, and the troublesome Weasleys (not to mention Harry, who was practically a Weasley) wouldn't be able to find them. Now, what should she wear…
"Ginny, I need your help."
Hermione coughed. Why had no-one ever told her how uncomfortable it was making a call by floo? The ash was going up her nose, and making her eyes water, and that was before you considered the heat. She wouldn't be doing this again, that was for sure.
"What's the matter, Mya?"
"I've… achoo… got a date with your brother and I need your advice on what… cough cough… to wear."
"I'll be right there."
She was. Two seconds later, the doorbell rang. A still-sneezing Hermione opened the door and ushered her in.
"What happened to you? You look dreadful."
Ever the complimentary one, Ginny.
"You have got to get a phone! The floo call made me feel terrible."
"I did have a phone. I did have three phones. Dad keeps stealing them and taking them apart to see how they work. Then he tries to put them back together, and they usually explode. He singed his eyebrows off with the last one, and they haven't grown back yet. Bill reckons it's a good thing – might put him off."
"Has it?" Hermione couldn't help being curious, after all, she'd provided a few muggle things for Mr Weasley, and was usually the person he consulted when he wanted information.
"Are you kidding me? He wants to know why they explode! When he heard I was coming to see you he wanted to know if I could ask you."
"It's probably because he's connected the wrong wires and then tried to plug it into the mains electricity."
Ginny looked baffled.
"You want to put that in words I can understand? I didn't do Muggle Studies at Hogwarts."
"Basically, he's done it wrong."
"OK. I knew that much."
They finally remembered just why Ginny was there, and trooped off to the bedroom, where Ginny proceeded to inspect Hermione's wardrobe.
"Dreadful, horrible, what on earth is that? Crookshanks, get out! Oh hell no, that's not so bad…"
Ginny's muffled voice could be heard as she rummaged.
A few minutes later she emerged, shaking her head.
"Hermione, you have absolutely nothing that's suitable. You don't even have a decent pair of shoes, for Merlin's sake!"
Hermione looked down at her feet, clad in a pair of black trainers.
"What's wrong with these?"
Ginny looked at her in despair.
"You don't wear trainers on a dinner date, Mya! Come on. We're going shopping."
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