Dsiclaimer: I still don't own anything relating to Harry Potter.

Author's Note: 'Nuther edited chapter. But not so much, as I actually like this one! After this comes the 3rd chappie, which I have almost finished. Promise.

Chapter 2: Getting Ready, Or Trying To

Fabian and Gideon Prewett were very brave young men. That's why they were in Gryffindor; it was why they had played so many pranks that could have caused them expulsion. But even they were not brave enough to enter the loo when their older sister was preparing for her date.

"Well?" Gideon whispered, looking worried.

"We should," Fabian replied, gulping audibly.

"Is it worth it?"

"It is . . . I think."

"Alright . . ."

"On three."

"One-"

"-two-"

"Maybe we shouldn't."

"No, it's all for the best."

"If you're sure."

"I am."

"One-"

"-two-"

"-THREE!"

They burst into the loo, bracing themselves for the screams sure to come. But they didn't. In fact, it was difficult to tell if Molly was even in the room at all- there was a haze of steam intermingled with hair spray blocking everything but a glaze of orange near the far wall.

"Molly?" Fabian called, cupping his hands over his eyes.

"Is that you, Molls?" asked Gideon, squinting to see the colour now moving toward them.

"OUT!" yelled the shape, and they felt someone grabbing their shirt collars and forcibly throwing them back into the hall.

Sitting on their bums in the middle of the hall was not part of the plan.

"Well," Fabian said, getting up and dusting himself off, "I suppose we should try again."

"Yeah. Let's tell her we've got her clothes beforehand, though, so she won't end up going on her date wearing nothing," Gideon replied.

"I'm sure Arthur wouldn't mind," said Fabian, grinning wickedly.

"Molly! We've got your clothes! Unless you'd like to go on this date nude, you'd better take them!" Gideon called, and the door opened just long enough for a hand to grab the items, then quickly shut.

The boys shrugged at each other before entering their sister's room, where they began choosing more outfits from the closet. They'd had enough experience with Molly and 'helping her out' with her dates to know that she would reject the first pair of clothes they gave her (though they had long given up understanding why).

At that exact moment Molly walked through the door, and it was all Fabian and Gideon could do to keep from laughing. Half of her hair was up in curlers, the other half still damp, hanging around her face. She wore the outfit they had given her, but had a different shoe on each foot, and twelve different bracelets ran up her left arm. She had brown eye shadow on one eye, grey on the other, and several shades of blush on each cheek. All in all, she looked as if she belonged to a family of clowns instead of a well-known wizarding family.

"Trouble with your make-up, sister dearest?" asked Fabian, trying to hide his grin. One look from Molly, however, wiped the smile clean off his face.

"No offense, but I hear that the latest fashion is having the same colour on your eyes, cheeks, and lips," added Gideon, but he to was silenced with a glare.

"I need a new out fit," she said stiffly, gesturing towards the blue dress they had given her.

"We figured as much," replied Fabian, indicating the four additional pairs of clothes lying neatly on her bed. She studied them closely, finally choosing a pair of regular Muggle jeans and a black tee shirt. Her love for the clothes was short lived, however, and she changed five more times before she settled on a pair of jeans and a blue dress.

"I really like this one," she said, looking at herself in the mirror.

"Er, Molly? Are you aware that was the first pair of clothes we gave you?" asked Gideon, chuckling softly to himself.

"What's your point?" Molly asked, still intent on her clothing.

The brothers glanced at each other, but looked away quickly- the danger of bursting out laughing was too high.

"Now, which bracelet?" Molly muttered, "I need one that isn't too boring, but isn't too flashy either."

"Why?" asked Fabian interestedly.

"Because, if I choose one that's boring, it'll seem like I don't care. If I choose one too gaudy, it'll seem like I'm trying too hard," she said exasperatedly, shaking her head.

"And, it matters because . . . ?" questioned Gideon, grinning. "I thought it didn't matter. You and Arthur are just friends, right?"

"Yes, yes, of course, it doesn't matter, not in the least!" she said, blushing beet red. "We're just friends, he won't care what I wear."

"Riiight," said Fabian, watching his sister closely; she averted her eyes, her face still red.

Ten minutes and various bracelets later, it was time to fix her hair.

"Ooooh, I want to do it!" yelled Fabian, jumping up and grabbing her hairbrush.

"Oh, no, you get away from me!" she said, eyeing the brush like it was a lethal weapon.

"C'mon, Molls, please?" he asked, sticking out his lower lip. She rolled her eyes at this childish gesture, saying,

"Fabian, after the great Hair Debacle of 1966, I am never letting you near me with a hairbrush or comb of any kind."

"Aw, Molly, he learned his lesson!" said Gideon. "Why hold a grudge? Your hair grew back eventually!"

"Please, please, pretty please? With Fortescue's triple Butterscotch ice cream on top?" Fabian asked, trying to sound cute and innocent, at which he failed miserably. Molly regarded his pleading face. She honestly had no idea what to do with her hair, maybe, (she cringed) she might need their help. After several long moments she said hesitantly,

"Well . . . if you promise to be careful . . . I suppose it couldn't hurt . . ."

"YAY!" Fabian yelled, shoving her in a chair and standing behind her.

"Hm . . . maybe we could curl it? No, no . . . a beehive might work, I hear it's quite popular over in the States. Pigtails? Or perhaps . . ." this went on for a good fifteen minutes, until Gideon finally said,

"Why don't you straighten it?"

"THAT'S IT!" Fabian cried, surprising Molly so much she fell out of her chair.

"Oops, sorry Molls," he apologized, helping her back up. "Just got a little carried away is all."

"Fabian, that was not you getting carried away. That was you acting normal, and I dread seeing you when you get carried away," Molly replied, seating herself in the chair and grabbing a Witch Weekly magazine.