Ron sat alone on the bed, visibly upset as he fingered the lace edging of his "new" dress robes.
Mum would insist on its historical value; Fred and George would never stop laughing.
Dad might wince inside, but would never argue with Mum; Ginny was a girl. Her thoughts didn't count anyways.
It was hopeless.
The only way that lace was coming off was if he did it… without magic.
He dug around in his desk drawer for a pair of scissors, started chopping at the delicate lace, praying that soon, no one would be able to tell.
