Disclaimer—If you like it, assume I don't own it. The HP universe and all its inhabitants (minus Bion) belong to JK Rowling, Steve Kloves, Scholastic, WB, and etc…not to me. Most scenes also belong to the aforementioned. No copy infringement is intended, and no money is being made. Progress is a lot slower in this work, but I hope you'll stick with me anyway. My gratitude to all of the readers who have stuck with me and encouraged me up to this point. As you know, I may not own it, but I work hard, and I love it, so please don't post this elsewhere without my knowledge. I know there are discrepancies, but for now I like them and prefer to write new scenes instead of revising old ones.
Finally, it is no fault of my awesome and beloved beta reader if there are mistakes in this chapter. I was so happy to have completed it, I posted it before sending it to her.
By the time Ginny and Hermione managed to tear themselves away from admiring Ginny's new dress robes, breakfast had already been cleared away. With the forethought people never seemed to expect of them--in spite of all evidence to the contrary--Fred and George had anticipated this might happen, and, as the girls stepped into the Common Room, each twin put his arm around one of them.
Being herded out of the Portrait Hole and down countless flights of stairs--particularly with Lee skipping along behind, draping you with hats and scarves in a most distracting manner, his merry caroling a counterpoint to Ron's loud inquiries as to where Hermione had been and whatever could have taken her so long--made it a bit of a challenge to get your bearings, but, having some experience in dealing with the twins, Ginny not only realized Fred was sticking his hand in her ribs to get her attention, but even managed to glance down. For which effort, she was generously rewarded. "Coffee!" she shouted happily, seizing the mug--which was, luckily enough, charmed not to spill.
Surfeited properly on coffee, sweet rolls, and muffins, they emerged into the dazzle of snow and sunlight. With a wave of her wand, Hermione conscientiously banished the dishes, returning them to the kitchens, before settling somewhat primly onto a slightly uplifted tree root more or less clear of snow, and opening Vanquishing Veela across her knees. The twins exchanged looks in a kind of mental shrug, and when Ron would have asked her what she was doing, a snowball hit him in the face, filling his mouth with snow.
As Ginny dashed by a couple of hours and several hundred snowballs later, Hermione caught her, thrusting an arm under her nose so she could see the hand on Hermione's watch pointing to Time to Get Ready. Tingling with cold, and glowing with joy and exercise, Ginny headed for the castle, tossing a wave over her shoulder to the boys. "How quickly they grow up," George said, pretending to wipe a tear from his eyes.
Beneath her nervous excitement, Ginny was still a bit hurt at Ron's casual assumption she and Hermione wouldn't mind being consolation prizes to himself and Harry, even more hurt by her own awareness that part of her--a rather large part--wouldn't have minded, and sad not only that Harry hadn't asked her to the dance before asking anyone else, but that he hadn't thought to ask her at all...and she didn't think she could bear the giggly, gossipy circus that was certain to be the fourth-year girls' dorm asking her about them. Particularly with Parvati--Harry's date, and a girl he had thought to ask on his own!--there. Without asking, she knew Hermione felt much the same, and the two of them made their way to Ginny's third-year dorm instead. Since none of her roommates were going to the Ball, the room was, thankfully, deserted. And without other girls there to ask awkward questions, Ginny and Hermione found it easy enough to let themselves be distracted from their disappointments and enjoy their preparations.
"Tonight, I don't want to let…anyone…get to me," Hermione said, her mouth pulled into the firm, resolute line that made her resemble Professor McGongall. I want to show…everyone…who makes snide comments about 'bushy-haired freaks' or 'looking a bit of a mess' that I can be as cool, classy, and smooth as marble…so…" She produced a large round bottle with an intimidating iron stopper.
Ginny pulled her head and squinted to read the label. "Sleakeasy?"
"It's a hair-straightening potion," Hermione explained. "I'm going to put my hair in a French Twist..." She hesitated, looking a bit anxious. "That is…if you don't mind helping me?"
Ginny snatched the bottle out of her hand. "Just sit on the floor in front of the bed already. I'll need leverage if I'm going to comb this through your hair."
Ginny's arm was on fire by the time she'd finished, but every time Hermione had opened her mouth to apologize, Ginny put her hand over it. "Oh, shut up and look at yourself, already," she said at last, "the result is so worth it!"
"You listen to hear, dear," the mirror advised, "she knows what she's talking about."
"You bet your sweet frame I do," Ginny agreed with a grin, and the mirror gave a shocked twitter of amusement.
"Ginny, you are a wonder," Hermione said softly, turning her head from side to side, clearly admiring the graceful curve of her neck.
"About time someone noticed!" Ginny quipped, her mouth twisting wryly.
"Have you decided how you want to wear your hair?" Hermione asked.
"I was thinking about it while I was combing your hair," Ginny said, her wry grin deepening. "And…if we're molding ourselves into images of the qualities we want others to see in us, then…my hair should be…something romantic."
Hermione nodded thoughtfully. "Curls, then? Up-swept and piled loosely on top of your head. Maybe even dotted with gems?"
"Hermione," Ginny said, half-laughing, "I think you have a hidden talent for this…but where on earth are we going to get the gems?"
Picking a piece of parchment up from a nearby desk, Hermione tore a bit off, rolling it about between her fingers, tapped it briefly with her wand, and held it out for Ginny's inspection. A tiny, silver-set topaz winked in her palm like a star. "After all," she said calmly, "I am a witch."
Ginny's hair took nearly as long to curl as Hermione's had to straighten, but while the result might have been slightly less dramatic, it was equally beautiful, and both girls were pleased with their labors.
Ginny applied lavender water to her pulse points while Hermione applied rose water—a Christmas gift Ginny had made over the summer—to hers. They helped one another slide their dress robes over their heads, careful not to disturb the painstaking hair styles.
Neither of their mothers approved of girls their age wearing much makeup, but both had admitted this was a special occasion. So, the girls applied a thin potion guaranteed to tint your skin—and only your skin—to an even, dewy tone to their faces.
Ginny outlined Hermione's eyes with a smoky gray pencil and dusted her eyelids with a powder that changed to suit the personality and mood of the person who wore it. The powder turned subtle variations of mauve, lavender, and taupe, a natural and arresting combination that made Hermione's amber eyes warm and glow, the green shadows gleaming like emeralds.
In turn, Hermione outlined Ginny's eyes with a rich chocolate brown, and dusted her eyelids with the same powder. On Ginny, the powder shimmered bone, ivory, and peach, making her tea-colored eyes look warm and sweet.
Finally, each applied a clear, shiny gel with similar properties—and the added bonus of personalized flavors—to their lips. Hermione's turned soft as a pale pink rose petal, exuding a slight scent of sun-ripened raspberries. Ginny's took the color of a peach just beginning to ripen, and a scent to match.
Hermione put a thin silver chain hung with dozens of tiny, sparkling crystals—"Mum and I bought it to match my robes"—and clipped cascades of matching crystals on silver strands to her ears.
Ginny clipped folds of charmed paper—similar to those in her hair—to her ears, and hung the silver mooncalf necklace Hagrid had given her around her neck. She slipped the silver slippers Charlie had sent onto her feet as Hermione donned a pair of strappy blue sandals with small heels.
The two of them looked at one another and sighed, mirroring each other as they straightened their shoulders. "Are we ready for this?" Hermione asked, sounding a bit nervous.
"Do we have a choice?" Ginny answered with a shaky smile.
Hermione smiled, too, and linked her arm through Ginny's as they emerged two butterflies from the cocoon of Ginny's dorm room.