"Hermione! Hermione, wake up!"
Hermione opened one eye, frowned at her friend and said distinctly, "Go away."
Ginny glared at her and said, "Hermione Granger, get up this instant or I'll hit you with the pillow again."
"All right, all right," Hermione said grumpily, opening her eyes, but refusing to move.
Ginny was sitting on her bed with her legs crossed under her. She did not however look as though she was preparing to meditate – rather, everything about her posture suggested excitement. Hermione wouldn't have been surprised to see her float off the bed in a moment.
"Come on, Hermione! It's Christmas."
"Fine, fine," Hermione said, finally sitting up. She hadn't slept well the night before – far too many thoughts seemed to rush around her brain about Christmas, about Harry and his…more difficult traits, about the Weasleys, and her parents, and exams…and Ron. Sometimes she wondered if it wasn't all too much to handle.
Ginny smiled at her and said, "Open your presents."
Hermione shook her head, but sat up quickly – she'd caught sight of the glittering pile at the bottom of her bed. She scrambled towards it as Ginny stretched like a cat, saying, "I love having a long lie-in in the morning."
"Really? I thought you wanted nothing more than to get up at the crack of dawn."
Ginny huffed at her, and said, "Look you're free to miss breakfast if you want, but…"
Hermione sighed, and pulled open her present from Harry – a history of twentieth century magical inventions with, Hermione saw, a foreword written by Gaspard Shingleton. Already planning to read it that evening, Hermione put it one to one side and looked at the others.
Her parents had, unsurprisingly, given her clothes and money, and Mrs Weasley had included a package of fudge. Thinking guiltily of what her parents would say, she bit into a piece, and watched Ginny open her present.
A moment later the younger girl shrieked and nearly fell off her bed in an attempt to hug Hermione. "It's a Weird Sisters tee shirt!" she said.
"Yeah, well…" Hermione said bashfully, "I knew you wanted one."
"Oh, Hermione, thanks! It's just like Tonks' ones."
In truth, that had been exactly Hermione's intent. She'd seen Ginny eyeing the young Auror's colourful clothing wistfully several times. Ginny didn't complain about not being able to buy expensive clothes or hair potions, but then…she didn't have to. As Parvati had pointed out one evening, just seeing all the other girls in Ginny's year was enough to make Hermione realise the difference. Louise and Jules were good friends to Ginny, Hermione knew that, but she sometimes wondered if Ginny couldn't help but feel a little inferior. Jules obviously had money, and while Louise wasn't exactly wealthy, she still had far nicer clothes and books than Ginny had.
That was why Hermione had bought the tee shirt. Ginny would never ask for it herself, and, in case, although Weird Sisters' merchandise wasn't massively expensive, Hermione knew that, with six other children to provide for, they couldn't really waste money on such things.
Admittedly, it had been a little out of Hermione's price range, but it was worth it – Ginny's eyes were shining as she pulled it over her head and started to model it for Hermione. "You know," she said, "I don't think I'm ever going to take it off."
Hermione grinned, reaching for a parcel of her own. "It might start to smell a bit."
"Oh," Ginny said, "That's from me, but…it's not as nice as yours."
"Don't be silly," Hermione said, unwrapping it. Once she'd got rid of all the paper, she found a long, stiffened strip of blood red velvet, which she held up to Ginny curiously.
Ginny's face was scarlet as she said, "You see…I didn't have that much…I mean, I couldn't afford to…Well, I got Mum to cut a bit out of my old dress robes, and then…I did all the Charm work myself."
"But, what is it?" Hermione said, wincing as she spoke. There was no way to phrase that question tactfully.
"It's…I don't what it's called exactly, but… I thought you see that, well you probably find it a right pain in the neck to put your hair up – I know do – and, you shouldn't have to use Sleakeazy every time you want to look nice, so with this, you just tap each end of the strip, like this, and it'll sort of soften and curl up in your hair until it's shaped it into some kind of knot, and then it'll stiffen again, and that way it'll stay up, but you'll still have all your curls."
Ginny said all this extremely fast, not looking quite at Hermione, and she seemed to be quite surprised when Hermione said, "Thanks, Ginny. I love it."
In an odd way, she was actually profoundly moved. Most people she knew told her hair would be lovely if she got rid of the curls, or got rid of the frizz, or changed the colour, or got it cut – if, in fact, she made it look like anything but the way it actually did. This was a particular theme of Lavender's, and in her heart of hearts Hermione still nursed a horrible feeling that her hair was…ugly. That she was ugly.
But Ginny had just assumed that Hermione would want to keep her curls, that her curls could beautiful and elegant just the way they were, that her natural hair might actually be preferable.
Ginny still looked uncomfortable, and she continued, "I'm sorry I couldn't get you something better, but…I mean yours is so much nicer, and it must have cost…"
"Ginny!"
"Yeah."
"Shut up. I really like it."
"Thanks, Hermione" Ginny said, with a shy smile, that reminded her of the girl who'd blushed when Harry smiled at her. Indeed, they were almost on the cusp of a truly lovely moment, when, with a sharp crack, the twins Apparated into their room.
"Ginny," George said, "Don't go downstairs for a minute, all right?"
"What! Why?"
"It's nothing," Fred said dismissively, "Just Percy."
"What about Percy?" Ginny asked, a dangerous tone in her voice.
Hermione sat down on her bed quietly – rather wishing she'd put her dressing gown on, as her nightdress was old and a little small, and feeling a little like an outsider to this family feud.
George grimaced and said, "He sent his jumper back, all right, and Mum got a bit upset, and…"
"You two said the worst possible thing, as usual."
"Hey!" Fred said, "Don't start on us – it's not our fault he's such a waste of space."
Ginny shrugged, and George interrupted what might have become an argument, saying, "Anyway, we'd best tell Ron; don't want him tramping down there with his elephant feet."
Fred snickered and said, "Or, Hermione could just go and meet him. That'd distract him long enough."
They'd gone before Hermione could ask what he meant, and she looked at Ginny questioningly. "What was that about?"
"Oh," Ginny said, rolling her eyes, "Just Fred's way of saying he thinks you're gorgeous."
"What!" Crookshanks leapt off Hermione's bed at her yelp, turning to look at her reproachfully once he'd landed.
Ginny, however, seemed completely unperturbed, and she was leaning over another present as she said, "Well, all the Weasleys think so… I even heard Mum saying something like 'she's grown up so well' the other day."
Hermione shook her head mournfully. "I don't think that's true."
"Bill said it – and he's going out with a Veela."
"He did not!"
"He did! I was showing him the photos from the Yule Ball, and he said…"
"All right, all right," Hermione said, feeling very tired all of a sudden. There was only one Weasley she wanted to think she was pretty, and he…well, he…
Trying to shrug off her sudden bad mood, Hermione reached for the last parcel. The note attached read, "To Hermione, Ron." Evidently brevity was something Ron valued. Preparing herself for a book on broom manufacture, or a history of famous Chess players, or something equally dispiriting, Hermione ripped the paper off.
It wasn't a book.
It was a large bottle – an extremely large bottle – of an oddly purple liquid, that seemed to have an oily texture. Tentatively, Hermione lifted the heavy crystal lid, recoiling in disgust when she got a blast of the odour. It wasn't pleasant.
But she didn't care. Ron had bought her perfume. Ron had bought her perfume. Not a book, not some instrument that would assist her in her studies, but something totally frivolous, and feminine and useless... What did it mean? Could it be he thought…something – or wanted something? And if he did, what was she supposed to do, should she laugh it off, or ignore it, or talk to him, or…
Her reverie was broken when Ginny snorted loudly with laughter. "Look!" she said, "Look what Harry gave me. He must think I'm twelve."
Hermione wanted to defend her friend, but when she saw the packet of six shocking pink satin hair ribbons her mouth twitched in spite of herself. Harry, evidently, had panicked – nothing else could possibly explain his buying such a patently unsuitable gift for Ginny. She made a note to have a conversation with him before next Christmas.
Once she'd calmed down however, Ginny smiled at them fondly, and said, "Well – it's the thought that counts. What's that?"
Hermione passed her the bottle warily, knowing what to expect. Ginny's reaction didn't disappoint – she made a pantomime expression of disgust, shaking a hand in front of her face, and saying, "Wow! Musky."
"It's from Ron."
"Oh! Well, big brother finally woke up!"
"Do you think," Hermione said nervously, tugging at a lock of her hair, "That it means something?"
"Well – it means he knows you're female. And apparently want to attract…wild animals?"
"Ginny!" Hermione hissed, "Be serious."
"I am being serious."
"Well," she said desperately, "What should I do?"
"Why would you do anything?" Ginny said curiously.
"Well, what if…this…is supposed to tell me something? What if it's Ron's way of saying that he thinks I'm a girl, and a girly girl – a fanciable girl, and one who he wants to…"
"Hermione," Ginny said, thankfully halting her downward spiral into insanity, "You have met Ron, right? He's not one for a subtle gesture – trust me."
"So – it doesn't mean anything?" Hermione couldn't quite restrain a feeling of sick disappointment. She been wanting Ron to see her, really see her, for so long, and the bottle of perfume had given her hope that he wasn't going to be as thick as he usually was…
"Of course it means something, Hermione. It means, he knows you're a girl, a girl who uses perfume, of a sort, and…he figured that out all by himself. Not too shabby for your average male."
"So I should just pretend to have my breakfast, like everything's normal?"
"Hermione," Ginny said patiently, "You will be having your breakfast. Now get dressed, and go say Happy Christmas to Harry and Ron."
"What are you doing?"
Ginny looked at Harry's hair ribbons and sighed, saying, "I've got to find somewhere to hide these. If Fred and George knew he'd got their 'scrapper' hair ribbons they'd never let him live it down."
"Okay then. Merry Christmas, Ginny."