Chapter One: Losers
Hermione looked up from her homework to watch the volatile redhead who was her roommate this year stomp into the room, cursing and slamming the door. "Stupid, arrogant, conceited, no-good, idiotic, narcissistic GIT!"
"Malfoy again?" Hermione went back to writing notes from the large book she’d been reading. An I-hate-Malfoy rant usually lasted a while, so she had time for a few more lines before she had to turn her full attention to it. "Mmm, right, disemboweling. Messy, though."
"Ugh! And do you know what the worst thing is? The thing that makes me want to poke his eyeballs out with a spoon and stuff them in his ears?" Ginny reached out and snatched the quill out of Hermione’s hand, then closed the book Hermione was reading with a snap.
"Hey! Now there’s a blot." Hermione took out some Enchanted Ink-Out and dabbed it carefully onto the parchment while the other girl seethed. "So, what is it that’s so horrible?"
Ginny hugged the huge book to her stomach and sat down on the bed. "The horrible part is that as he was blathering on, I realized he was right. Rude, obnoxious, and mean, but right."
This had the effect of making Hermione look up, frowning. "About what?"
Ginny’s tone was mournful as she said, "He said I’m a dateless loser who should turn to women, so that then I could hit on you, the other dateless loser in Gryffindor."
Hermione choked. "Um, Ginny? I, uh, well, I’m flattered, but... Um..."
A pillow flew across the room and cut off Hermione’s embarrassed sputtering. "Twit. I don’t swing that way, either. I meant that he’s right that we’re both dateless losers."
"Oh!" Relief poured through the older girl, to be replaced shortly by annoyance. "Ginny, he was just being his usual bratty self. Just ignore him."
"Okay, Miss Head Girl, when was the last time you had a date? And going to Hogsmeade in a group with Ron and Harry doesn’t count." The redhead sat up and gave her friend the ultimate no-bullshit-between-best-friends look.
"Well, uh, it was..." She bit her lip, trying to think. Surely... No, apparently not. "Okay, so maybe we ARE dateless, but we are in school, and—"
"And one of the purposes of school is for students to learn social interaction, no? Otherwise we could all be tutored in our homes, right?" Ginny walked over to the desk and slammed Hermione’s book back onto it. "Therefore, part of the purpose of school is for students to date."
"Come on, Gin, you know that there’s special circumstances..." Hermione pinkened and trailed off, not wanting to say out loud what those might be.
"Hermione. I’ve got two questions, and you need to answer them honestly." Ginny sat on the edge of the desk and looked seriously at her friend. "Question one: Are you in love with Harry? Because you should know by now that I’m not."
"Ginny! Of course not... Although since when aren’t you in love with Harry?"
"Christmas. I finally belted up and cornered him under the mistletoe and it was like kissing Percy." Ginny made a face and continued. "Do you love my brother?"
"Percy? Well, I’m fond of him, I suppose." Hermione caught the death glare being shot her way and sighed in resignation. "Yes, I do love Ron, have forever. I’d thought he felt the same, what with the thing with Viktor, but..."
"But the stupid wanker hasn’t bloody well done anything." Ginny nodded. "I’m still not altogether sure you’re sane for wanting my brother of all people. You deserve the best."
"Yes, but I want Ron." Both girls dissolved into giggles.
After a minute, Ginny sobered enough to say, "The way I see it, if he hasn’t woken up by now and done something, it’s not going to happen on its own. So, you have two options: you can pine for him forever, or you can do something different."
"Do what? Lock him in a broom closet and rip his clothes off before kissing every single freckle? Believe me, I’ve considered it." Hermione shook her head. "I just couldn’t do it."
"Good, because then you’d want to tell me about it, and just saying you’ve thought about it gives me the screaming heebie jeebies." Ginny shuddered theatrically, but went on. "No, I was thinking of less direct methods."
Picking her friend up by the shoulders, Ginny steered her to face a wall with a small mirror. A quick spell later and both girls were staring at their reflections. They were silent for a few moments as they stared. Hermione’s robes were in better condition, and they actually fit her, but had ink stains in random spots and weren’t cut in any kind of beneficial way. Her hair was still bushy and frizzy, somewhat restrained into a bun that had been speared by a quill. The small reading glasses perched on the end of her nose didn’t help any claims to beauty. Ginny’s robes had once belonged to Charlie and were slightly tight in the chest and hips, but baggy everywhere else, making her look like she had the shape of a potato sack. Her hair, which also had a tendency to frizz, had been relentlessly pulled into a tight braid. Both of them had scuffed shoes and slumped shoulders, although Hermione’s came from carrying too many books, while Ginny’s came from trying to minimize her height.
Finally, Hermione spoke. "We need help."
"And how." Morosely, Ginny shrunk the mirror back to its normal size and then flopped on her bed. "But it’s not like we can suddenly just go up to Lavender or Parvati or someone like that and say, ‘Hey! I may have sneered at you for being so obsessed with appearances, but can you teach me how to do all that stuff now?’."
"Heaven forbid." Hermione looked thoughtful. "But you know, neither of us is ugly, and there have to be books on the subject."
"Leave it to you to immediately think of research." A thrown pillow interrupted Ginny’s giggling. "But you’re right, there’s got to be things we can find out without going through the humiliation of asking people. How to dye hair, for one thing."
"Oh, Ginny, you can’t dye your hair! It’s such a lovely color, it just needs something to make it less frizzy." Hermione pulled out a quill to and wrote on a fresh piece of parchment ‘1. De-frizz hair – is there something easier than SleekEz Potion?’.
"Oh, it’s not for me. I just want a spell so I can make Malfoy’s hair red and gold. Or possibly electric blue." A devilish grin lit the redhead’s face. "Just because he’s right doesn’t mean I won’t get revenge."
"Don’t you have those old Teen Witch magazines from when Percy gave you a subscription?" Hermione started digging around through the stacks of books and periodicals, none of which she’d ever allowed to be thrown out. "Perfect!"
"Isn’t that one of Lockhart’s books? I never did bother reading them, even if they were from Harry." Not even the deepest crush had been able to counteract the soporific effects of all that bragging.
"Looking Good: A Guide for Witches Who Want to Look Their Very Best." Hermione’s eyes rolled as the photograph of Lockhart of the back cover made kissy faces and preened. "Still, he was good at compiling information, even if none of it was original."
Soon enough the mysteries of the makeover were being pored over avidly. "It says here that the foundation of sexiness is self confidence, and the foundation of self confidence is wearing the right underwear." Hermione wrote carefully on her parchment, "Step two, buy underwear that inspires confidence."
Ginny pulled out a catalog from Madame Malkin’s and flipped to the underwear section. "I don’t think I could be confident in this leather thing." She turned her head to one side, then the other. "I’m not at all sure I understand this leather thing."
"The way a woman carries herself says everything about her. Whether a waifish lovely or an amazonian beauty, a woman should stand like she commands the universe, allowing her inner goddess to shine through to the world." Hermione snorted. "There’s no way Lockhart wrote this himself."
"Still, it’s good advice. When you stand up straight, you look like a queen." Ginny made a face and picked up a random book and started flipping through it idly. "When I stand up straight, people ask me what the weather’s like up there."
"Oh, is that what Seamus was saying the other morning at breakfast? All I could see was the way that he was staring at your boobs and trying not to drool." Hermione wrote down step three, posture.
"He was?" Ginny blushed but then focused on the book in front of her.
"—muggle product... Ginny, are you listening?" Judging by the look on her friend’s face, Hermione guessed the answer was ‘no’.
"Holy Merlin and Vivien, why didn’t you tell me about this before?" Ginny was dancing a jig in the middle of the room, clutching the book as if it contained the answer to all the mysteries of the universe.
Hermione frowned. "Tell you what? What’s in that book that has you so happy?"
"Well, Miss Granger, why is transfiguration ultimately a limited art?" Ginny straightened into her best imitation of Professor McGonagall.
"In simple terms, because the transfigured object desires, on some level, to return to what it once was. The amount of power of the caster and the complexity of the spell determine how complete the transfiguration will be and arithmancy can be used to calculate the length of it." Hermione didn’t even have to think; the instinct to answer such questions had her speaking reflexively. "But what does that have to do with anything?"
"So we can’t transfigure our robes into decent shape, because it might wear out and that’d be embarrassing, right?" At Hermione’s nod, Ginny opened the book to the page she had been looking at before with the air of a conjurer pulling a rabbit out of a person’s ear. "Isn’t it perfect?"
"Gin. That’s a sewing machine. An antique one at that." Hermione frowned at the picture for a moment and then made a connection. "So old it doesn’t run on electricity! Ginny, you’re a genius."
"It’s got all diagrams and stuff, we can easily transfigure stuff to make the machinery, and then use it to fix up our clothes or make new ones. It can’t be that hard to make clothes, if muggles do it all the time." Ginny spun around in excitement. "Just think, Hermione, clothes made just for me!"
The other girl giggled. "You already have some of those... Although I must say the shade of pink your mother uses for your sweaters is, er..."
"Hideous. Awful. Sick making. Ugh, I don’t want to think about it any more, all these adjectives are reminding me of Malfoy." Ginny threw open her closet and started rummaging through it, looking for the box that held all of Ron’s I-don’t-know-how-to-buy-presents-for-girls presents.
"Anyway, what I’d been saying earlier is that Lockhart himself says that, as long as you don’t have to pay a premium, the best thing for hair is to just use muggle conditioner." Hermione pulled her hair for a moment while she thought, then nodded firmly and scribbled a note. "I’m going to go borrow Hedwig. If she starts now, she could visit my mum and bring back the results of a visit to the all-night chemist."
"Right, then. I’ll get started with the transfiguring for the machine." Ginny settled down with her wand and the box of unwanted novelty items.
------------
Author's Note: Please note that I am not describing Ginny as the pixie that fanon portrays her as. For an idea of what Ginny looks like in this fic, and a sorta sneak peek at a scene from almost at the end, check out this picture of Kate Dillon.
Hermione looked up from her homework to watch the volatile redhead who was her roommate this year stomp into the room, cursing and slamming the door. "Stupid, arrogant, conceited, no-good, idiotic, narcissistic GIT!"
"Malfoy again?" Hermione went back to writing notes from the large book she’d been reading. An I-hate-Malfoy rant usually lasted a while, so she had time for a few more lines before she had to turn her full attention to it. "Mmm, right, disemboweling. Messy, though."
"Ugh! And do you know what the worst thing is? The thing that makes me want to poke his eyeballs out with a spoon and stuff them in his ears?" Ginny reached out and snatched the quill out of Hermione’s hand, then closed the book Hermione was reading with a snap.
"Hey! Now there’s a blot." Hermione took out some Enchanted Ink-Out and dabbed it carefully onto the parchment while the other girl seethed. "So, what is it that’s so horrible?"
Ginny hugged the huge book to her stomach and sat down on the bed. "The horrible part is that as he was blathering on, I realized he was right. Rude, obnoxious, and mean, but right."
This had the effect of making Hermione look up, frowning. "About what?"
Ginny’s tone was mournful as she said, "He said I’m a dateless loser who should turn to women, so that then I could hit on you, the other dateless loser in Gryffindor."
Hermione choked. "Um, Ginny? I, uh, well, I’m flattered, but... Um..."
A pillow flew across the room and cut off Hermione’s embarrassed sputtering. "Twit. I don’t swing that way, either. I meant that he’s right that we’re both dateless losers."
"Oh!" Relief poured through the older girl, to be replaced shortly by annoyance. "Ginny, he was just being his usual bratty self. Just ignore him."
"Okay, Miss Head Girl, when was the last time you had a date? And going to Hogsmeade in a group with Ron and Harry doesn’t count." The redhead sat up and gave her friend the ultimate no-bullshit-between-best-friends look.
"Well, uh, it was..." She bit her lip, trying to think. Surely... No, apparently not. "Okay, so maybe we ARE dateless, but we are in school, and—"
"And one of the purposes of school is for students to learn social interaction, no? Otherwise we could all be tutored in our homes, right?" Ginny walked over to the desk and slammed Hermione’s book back onto it. "Therefore, part of the purpose of school is for students to date."
"Come on, Gin, you know that there’s special circumstances..." Hermione pinkened and trailed off, not wanting to say out loud what those might be.
"Hermione. I’ve got two questions, and you need to answer them honestly." Ginny sat on the edge of the desk and looked seriously at her friend. "Question one: Are you in love with Harry? Because you should know by now that I’m not."
"Ginny! Of course not... Although since when aren’t you in love with Harry?"
"Christmas. I finally belted up and cornered him under the mistletoe and it was like kissing Percy." Ginny made a face and continued. "Do you love my brother?"
"Percy? Well, I’m fond of him, I suppose." Hermione caught the death glare being shot her way and sighed in resignation. "Yes, I do love Ron, have forever. I’d thought he felt the same, what with the thing with Viktor, but..."
"But the stupid wanker hasn’t bloody well done anything." Ginny nodded. "I’m still not altogether sure you’re sane for wanting my brother of all people. You deserve the best."
"Yes, but I want Ron." Both girls dissolved into giggles.
After a minute, Ginny sobered enough to say, "The way I see it, if he hasn’t woken up by now and done something, it’s not going to happen on its own. So, you have two options: you can pine for him forever, or you can do something different."
"Do what? Lock him in a broom closet and rip his clothes off before kissing every single freckle? Believe me, I’ve considered it." Hermione shook her head. "I just couldn’t do it."
"Good, because then you’d want to tell me about it, and just saying you’ve thought about it gives me the screaming heebie jeebies." Ginny shuddered theatrically, but went on. "No, I was thinking of less direct methods."
Picking her friend up by the shoulders, Ginny steered her to face a wall with a small mirror. A quick spell later and both girls were staring at their reflections. They were silent for a few moments as they stared. Hermione’s robes were in better condition, and they actually fit her, but had ink stains in random spots and weren’t cut in any kind of beneficial way. Her hair was still bushy and frizzy, somewhat restrained into a bun that had been speared by a quill. The small reading glasses perched on the end of her nose didn’t help any claims to beauty. Ginny’s robes had once belonged to Charlie and were slightly tight in the chest and hips, but baggy everywhere else, making her look like she had the shape of a potato sack. Her hair, which also had a tendency to frizz, had been relentlessly pulled into a tight braid. Both of them had scuffed shoes and slumped shoulders, although Hermione’s came from carrying too many books, while Ginny’s came from trying to minimize her height.
Finally, Hermione spoke. "We need help."
"And how." Morosely, Ginny shrunk the mirror back to its normal size and then flopped on her bed. "But it’s not like we can suddenly just go up to Lavender or Parvati or someone like that and say, ‘Hey! I may have sneered at you for being so obsessed with appearances, but can you teach me how to do all that stuff now?’."
"Heaven forbid." Hermione looked thoughtful. "But you know, neither of us is ugly, and there have to be books on the subject."
"Leave it to you to immediately think of research." A thrown pillow interrupted Ginny’s giggling. "But you’re right, there’s got to be things we can find out without going through the humiliation of asking people. How to dye hair, for one thing."
"Oh, Ginny, you can’t dye your hair! It’s such a lovely color, it just needs something to make it less frizzy." Hermione pulled out a quill to and wrote on a fresh piece of parchment ‘1. De-frizz hair – is there something easier than SleekEz Potion?’.
"Oh, it’s not for me. I just want a spell so I can make Malfoy’s hair red and gold. Or possibly electric blue." A devilish grin lit the redhead’s face. "Just because he’s right doesn’t mean I won’t get revenge."
"Don’t you have those old Teen Witch magazines from when Percy gave you a subscription?" Hermione started digging around through the stacks of books and periodicals, none of which she’d ever allowed to be thrown out. "Perfect!"
"Isn’t that one of Lockhart’s books? I never did bother reading them, even if they were from Harry." Not even the deepest crush had been able to counteract the soporific effects of all that bragging.
"Looking Good: A Guide for Witches Who Want to Look Their Very Best." Hermione’s eyes rolled as the photograph of Lockhart of the back cover made kissy faces and preened. "Still, he was good at compiling information, even if none of it was original."
Soon enough the mysteries of the makeover were being pored over avidly. "It says here that the foundation of sexiness is self confidence, and the foundation of self confidence is wearing the right underwear." Hermione wrote carefully on her parchment, "Step two, buy underwear that inspires confidence."
Ginny pulled out a catalog from Madame Malkin’s and flipped to the underwear section. "I don’t think I could be confident in this leather thing." She turned her head to one side, then the other. "I’m not at all sure I understand this leather thing."
"The way a woman carries herself says everything about her. Whether a waifish lovely or an amazonian beauty, a woman should stand like she commands the universe, allowing her inner goddess to shine through to the world." Hermione snorted. "There’s no way Lockhart wrote this himself."
"Still, it’s good advice. When you stand up straight, you look like a queen." Ginny made a face and picked up a random book and started flipping through it idly. "When I stand up straight, people ask me what the weather’s like up there."
"Oh, is that what Seamus was saying the other morning at breakfast? All I could see was the way that he was staring at your boobs and trying not to drool." Hermione wrote down step three, posture.
"He was?" Ginny blushed but then focused on the book in front of her.
"—muggle product... Ginny, are you listening?" Judging by the look on her friend’s face, Hermione guessed the answer was ‘no’.
"Holy Merlin and Vivien, why didn’t you tell me about this before?" Ginny was dancing a jig in the middle of the room, clutching the book as if it contained the answer to all the mysteries of the universe.
Hermione frowned. "Tell you what? What’s in that book that has you so happy?"
"Well, Miss Granger, why is transfiguration ultimately a limited art?" Ginny straightened into her best imitation of Professor McGonagall.
"In simple terms, because the transfigured object desires, on some level, to return to what it once was. The amount of power of the caster and the complexity of the spell determine how complete the transfiguration will be and arithmancy can be used to calculate the length of it." Hermione didn’t even have to think; the instinct to answer such questions had her speaking reflexively. "But what does that have to do with anything?"
"So we can’t transfigure our robes into decent shape, because it might wear out and that’d be embarrassing, right?" At Hermione’s nod, Ginny opened the book to the page she had been looking at before with the air of a conjurer pulling a rabbit out of a person’s ear. "Isn’t it perfect?"
"Gin. That’s a sewing machine. An antique one at that." Hermione frowned at the picture for a moment and then made a connection. "So old it doesn’t run on electricity! Ginny, you’re a genius."
"It’s got all diagrams and stuff, we can easily transfigure stuff to make the machinery, and then use it to fix up our clothes or make new ones. It can’t be that hard to make clothes, if muggles do it all the time." Ginny spun around in excitement. "Just think, Hermione, clothes made just for me!"
The other girl giggled. "You already have some of those... Although I must say the shade of pink your mother uses for your sweaters is, er..."
"Hideous. Awful. Sick making. Ugh, I don’t want to think about it any more, all these adjectives are reminding me of Malfoy." Ginny threw open her closet and started rummaging through it, looking for the box that held all of Ron’s I-don’t-know-how-to-buy-presents-for-girls presents.
"Anyway, what I’d been saying earlier is that Lockhart himself says that, as long as you don’t have to pay a premium, the best thing for hair is to just use muggle conditioner." Hermione pulled her hair for a moment while she thought, then nodded firmly and scribbled a note. "I’m going to go borrow Hedwig. If she starts now, she could visit my mum and bring back the results of a visit to the all-night chemist."
"Right, then. I’ll get started with the transfiguring for the machine." Ginny settled down with her wand and the box of unwanted novelty items.
------------
Author's Note: Please note that I am not describing Ginny as the pixie that fanon portrays her as. For an idea of what Ginny looks like in this fic, and a sorta sneak peek at a scene from almost at the end, check out this picture of Kate Dillon.
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