"I can't believe you're making me do this," Hermione said. She twirled around and stared at her skimpy outfit in Ginny's full-length mirror. "Ginny, I can't wear this, my ass is literally hanging out."

"I know. Great, isn't it?" Ginny called from the next room. "That's not even the best part. Try to bend down."

Hermione did so, and then immediately shot back to her feet. "No fucking way," she said, her cheeks burning bright red. "Ginny, my whole pussy is on show for the world to see! That's it, I'm not going tonight."

"Hermione, Hermione," Ginny said, coming into the room. Her own outfit was even more revealing than Hermione's, but somehow it seemed less... indecorous on her. It was Ginny, after all. She'd wear clothes like this in broad daylight if she wanted to. She went on dates with both boys and girls almost every night, sometimes two or three times a night, snogged them all, slept with them all, and not a single person batted an eye. That was the way Ginny was, and people had learned to accept her, because anybody who had anything negative to say would be hexed. "Hermione, you promised!" she continued.

Hermione groaned and stared at herself in the mirror again. The corset she wore pushed her breasts up so high that every time she moved they threatened to spill out. From time to time, they did spill out, and she'd have to fight to get them back inside. The pants she was wearing-if they could be called pants-were hiked up so far that the bottom seventy percent of her ass was always seen, regardless of how far she pulled the fabric down. And when she crouched, as Ginny had just helped her realize, the fabric spread so thinly that everything was visible. Everything.

"You promised," Ginny repeated, taking a step closer to Hermione and staring up at her, pouting.

Hermione suddenly felt dizzy. It was Ginny's perfume, she tried to tell herself. But she knew she was lying. It was just Ginny. Her natural scent, her natural demeanor, her natural sex appeal drove both men and women crazy. If Hermione hadn't known the rest of the Weasley family for over six years now, she would have put money on the possibility that Ginny was descended from a sex-demon, a succubus or incubus, or at the very least a Veela. But none of the other Weasleys showed any signs of this type of persuasion, so unless it skipped a few generations or was only present in younger woman, Ginny was just Ginny.

Hermione took a step away from her friend and closed her eyes, feigning a deep deliberation. In truth, Ginny had simply stood too close to her, and a dampness had begun to build between her innermost thighs. That often happened when she was alone with Ginny, but normally she was able to hide it. Based on what she was wearing right now and how much of herself was visible, she didn't think it was a good idea to take the risk.

"Think hard, Hermione," Ginny said excitedly, nearly bouncing. "But think fast. It's almost midnight."

Hermione groaned. "You're sure it's a masquerade ball?" she asked.

"Yes," Ginny said. "I even picked out your mask already."

"And you're sure only students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons will be there?"

Ginny grinned. "I never said that."

"Ginny!"

"Hey, come on," Ginny said, rolling her eyes. "It was supposed to be exclusively Beauxbatons. And once Durmstrang students got invited, did you think people from Hogwarts wouldn't find out? But, don't worry, Hermione, these masquerade balls are fully anonymous. The masks are magically enhanced. It's literally impossible to tell who somebody is unless you see them put the mask on, or you see them taking it off. Look into the mirror quickly, I want to show you something. Look how good you look, Hermione."

Hermione studied herself again while Ginny ducked out of the room. She did look good, she had to admit. And if these masks were as powerful as Ginny claimed, maybe it wouldn't be too bad of an idea to let loose a bit. If, truly, nobody would know who she was. But that was vital. Based on the stories Ginny told, these Beauxbatons parties were unlike anything Hermione had every experienced. Drugs, alcohol, and lots and lots and lots of-

"You're one-hundred percent sure that I don't have to have sex with anybody if I don't want to?" Hermione asked.

"Of course not," Ginny's voice called from the next room. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to do. But don't write it off so easily. Who knows, you might meet somebody nice and charming. Or somebodies. Won't Krum be there, by any chance?"

"Viktor graduated three years ago," Hermione said, adjusting her corset. "I doubt he goes to these types of parties anymore."

"Trust me, the parties world famous Quidditch players go to are way crazier," Ginny said. "I'd tell you about the one I went to with the Holyhead Harpies, but I don't want to scare you." There was a pause. "Are you sure you never slept with Krum?"

"I told you, we tried," Hermione said. "He was just too big. I got scared."

"But you sucked him off?"

"A few times," Hermione said. She suddenly went red at a memory. "He said my tongue was more magical than-" She stopped speaking. Her throat went dry.

In the reflection of the mirror, she'd suddenly noticed that somebody else had entered the room. Somebody she didn't know. And she'd been speaking about sucking Viktor off. Why hadn't the door been locked? Hadn't she and Ginny-

"Hah! See!" Ginny said, pulling off the mask she'd been wearing. "You didn't even know it was me!"

Hermione was overcome with a new sense of dizziness, as if the world was spinning for a moment.

It eventually came to a stop and she stared at Ginny and she mask she was brandishing in her hand.

"Magic," Hermione said.

"Indeed," Ginny said, tossing the mask to Hermione. "Admit it, you didn't know it was me, did you?"

"Not at all," Hermione said. She studied the mask. It was small, plain, seemingly nothing overtly magical at all. It only covered the eyes, and was pure white, with faint golden lines at the edge of the eyes. When Ginny had worn it, Hermione hadn't even registered that the reflection in the mirror had been Ginny, despite having Ginny's hair, Ginny's chin, Ginny's outfit, Ginny's everything.

"Magic," Ginny repeated standing at her shoulder, smiling broadly into the mirror. She reached around and gave Hermione's breasts a light squeeze, then headed back to the other room to retrieve her own mask.

Hermione, left alone, raised her own mask to her face. She could tell that she was looking at her own reflection, of course, and could see through the charm, but she'd also been a witch long enough to see the shimmering of magic around the mask, and just how powerful it was. It would work. Nobody would know it was her. She could do whatever she wanted tonight, be with whoever she wanted, and even those closest to her would not even be able to guess that it was her.

"So what do you say, Hermione?" Ginny called from the other room. "Ready to put your dignity aside for a night and get a taste of Beauxbatons?"

Hermione exhaled slowly. Her heart still hammered in her chest, and she still felt nervous, but the eyes of the girl staring back at her from within the mirror and behind the white mask told a different story.

"Hell, yes," she whispered, so that only she could hear.