Nothing belongs to me, I'm not making a penny. It's all JK Rowling's.
A/N: A two part, hopefully humourous, story about a missing moment in Ginny and Hermione's friendship, a serious exercise in trust some might say. Written after HBP, set the summer after sixth year at the Burrow.
Magazines and Trust
They were sitting on their beds in Ginny's room, on a sweltering, hot summers day, flicking through old magazines. The window was wide open to attract a hopeful breeze, and the calls and whoops of the Weasley brothers playing Quidditch could be heard distantly through the still and stifling air. Ginny had before her a stack of muggle magazines and was impatiently searching for an old article. Hermione was reading and rereading some instructions in the latest Witch Weekly on the latest colouring charms. They had both agreed, when the boredom born of the incapacitating heat had become too much, to do the others hair with something 'surprising'. For Ginny it was a rare chance to be truly girly while at home, for Hermione it was a chance to practise her magic away from school. It wouldn't be detected at the Burrow, and as no practical magic was set for homework, the only other sensible alternative was housework.
Ginny had inherited some of her father's love for muggle inventions, though she never dared admit it to anyone else in the family. Even Ron didn't know that she had her own small drawer in a chest in the shed, filled with toys out of cereal packets, a kite, some rubber bands, and other things her dad had discreetly brought home from work for her. So she was determined to grab this opportunity to try a difficult muggle hairstyle while she had the chance. It would seem normal to Hermione, she probably wouldn't notice it wasn't very common among other witches, and anyway Ginny was just itching to wrestle her heat-frizzled hair out of her face. She had found the step-by-step guide to a French plait months ago, but had given up after a few frustrating hours trying to work it on herself, now where was it?!
Hermione was much more doubtful about her decision to colour Ginny's hair, if it went wrong…well, it would be bad for Ginny; embarrassing and possibly quite difficult to fix. On the other hand she hadn't found a spell to stump her yet, and the challenge to learn something new and complex was irresistible. Beauty charms weren't exactly her forte, but that just made it more tempting to practice, she'd love to prove Lavender and Parvati wrong, if she didn't have the time to preen at school, that didn't mean she couldn't if she wanted to. Once she had the technique mastered the array of colours and tones possible were limited only by her imagination. She thought of shimmering pink and iridescent silver, glowing honey and baby blue, would Ginny like punk purple or enchanting lilac, gothic black or deep leafy green? What about chocolaty brown - too boring, platinum blonde - bad associations, deep fuchsia - well, Tonks had really made that her own. She should be daring though, it would suit Ginny, and after all, nothing was irrevocable.
At the same moment both girls let out a deep breath and looked up at each other. Ginny had found it, Hermione had chosen.
"Okay, I need some, erm, equipment, and you probably do too, right?" said Ginny, a little nervously. Hermione nodded, and licked her lips, clutching the magazine anxiously.
"You take the room, I'll prepare in the bathroom and be back in a few minutes. Er, how shall we choose who goes first?" Ginny frowned, Hermione wasn't exactly known for her skills in this department, and now that it came to it she wasn't so sure…but she couldn't back out now, besides if she didn't get her hands on that mess or curls soon she'd break her wand in two. She was roused from her thoughts by Hermione decidedly standing up and speaking,
"Alright then, why don't you do me first, I think I need to relax a bit before I do you, you know, get accustomed to this stuff" she waved her hands at Ginny's dresser, and Ginny gulped, this was a serious exercise in trust. Funnily enough Hermione was thinking exactly the same thing.
In the bathroom Ginny had a basket of brushes and hair bands, clips and combs, and she hunted out her secret bottle of hairspray, and after a moments consideration decided that both the muggle straightening serums would be useful. She wished she had those hair straighteners she's seen in the chemists in the village. She'd spent an hour last weekend staring at them through the glass while her Dad was inside chatting animatedly about prescriptions to the poor shop assistant. Not that she really needed them herself, but it was a fascinating gadget. She stood in front of the mirror steeling herself to the task ahead. She wouldn't be daunted by this, not if there was a scrap of Gryffindor courage in her.
Hermione had quickly arranged the instructions on the dresser, transfigured Ginny's trunk into a stool, and was now pacing the short distance between the beds and the door, wringing her hands. She could do this, she could do this. She had to prove herself, and Ginny would understand, wouldn't laugh at her, Ginny, with her beautiful silky red hair, the envy of her year, trusted her to get it right.
Second part up tomorrow, please please review.