Chapter Two: Hot Oil, Hair Dye, and the Sorta-Girlfriend
The next morning saw two extremely bleary eyed girls walking into the great hall. This didn’t attract all that much attention, except when they were walking past the Slytherin table and both stumbled. Books and parchments flew everywhere, and the liquid one of the girls was carrying went flying.
"Bloody hell!" Malfoy was out of his seat and wiping his face off with a napkin. "Can’t you ruddy cows even manage to walk without causing disaster?"
Hermione busied herself with picking up her precious books, but Ginny just shoved back the hair that had come loose from her braid and glared. "If it weren’t for your big dumb ox sticking her stupid feet in our way, this never would’ve happened. Honestly, Ferret, can’t you make the time to enroll Parkinson in an obedience class?"
Pansy sputtered something along the lines of "How dare you" as Hermione grabbed the last of her things off the floor and hauled Ginny away. Dragging her backpack, Ginny called back, "I’d go wash that off, Malfoy, since there’s no house elves around to cast a cleaning charm for you."
The patented Malfoy sneer came out and he said, "Maybe you’re too stupid or slobby to care about grooming, but some of us have an image to maintain."
Hermione slapped a hand over Ginny’s mouth and continued to drag her to the Gryffindor table. They sat down next to each other and started whispering to each other, completely ignoring the strange looks they got. Lavender leaned over and whispered, "Hermione, did Ron and Harry do something to make you mad?"
Any response to that was lost in the laughter that was rocking the hall. Ginny looked insufferably smug as she took a big sip of her pumpkin juice and counted down. Three... Two... One. "Weasel, what the hell did you put in my hair?"
Ginny shoved the loose strands of hair back behind her ear and batted her lashes in a grand show of innocence. "I? Put something in your hair? That would involve touching you voluntarily." An exaggerated shudder drew a certain amount of male attention away from her face momentarily, but Malfoy’s eyes barely flickered. "No, no, Malfoy, I’m certain that I didn’t place anything in your hair deliberately."
Malfoy’s teeth were grinding together and he leaned in to hiss, "Look, Weasley, I’m not going to ask again. Why is my hair blue?"
"Well, I’m not entirely sure. It might have to do with the muggle hair dye mixed into the potion that Hermione and I were working on." Ginny bit her lip as she pulled the Perfect-Little-Angel face that had led to the twins taking the fall for her more than once. "Oh, I do so wish that Pansy hadn’t tripped us. I really wanted to see how it turned out."
"I wouldn’t advise dyeing your hair, Weasel. You don’t have anywhere near enough style to carry it off." Turning on his heel, Malfoy strode back to the Slytherin table, savoir faire intact and making it seem almost like the wild streaks of bright metallic blue in his hair were placed there deliberately.
"Gin, that was great!" Ron laughed and pulled up a chair next to his sister. He had just snitched a piece of bacon from her plate and was about to put it in his mouth when he noticed twin glares directed at him. "What?"
"Push off, Ron. We’d like some privacy." Even Ginny turned to look at Hermione with unbelieving eyes at her outburst. "Come on, Ginny, we still need to visit the library." With that they left, although as a loving younger sister, Ginny was considerate enough to close Ron’s jaw for him.
Classes proceeded as they normally did, and Malfoy’s revenge didn’t appear during lunch or dinner, even if he and Ginny did have several more sparring sessions in the hallways. Finally they retreated to their lair to contemplate the unexplored riches that Hermione’s mother had sent. Apparently Mrs. Granger was quite enthused at her daughter finally being interested in such things, because poor Hedwig had had difficulty with the weight of the package. Conditioners, lotions, perfumes, fashion magazines... Anything that might be bought late at night in London was spilled across Hermione’s bed, and there was a promise of more to come.
After a great deal of giggling, they gathered the likeliest looking bottles and their bathrobes and headed off for the prefect’s bath, counting on the late hour to keep others away. This was not, as it turned out, a good idea.
"Practicing for a strip act, ladies? I don’t doubt Weasley could use the coins, but I have to say you’re both horrible at it." There was only one person on earth who could achieve that precise timbre of sneering in their voice.
"Malfoy, you... You..." While Hermione had shrieked and pulled her robe back on, Ginny turned purple and went on the attack. She started with simple, short Anglo-Saxon words in interesting combinations, then progressed to include Egyptian, Romanian, and French words for more esoteric curses, completely ignoring Hermione’s attempts to get her attention.
She was just getting around to spitting out a really complicated phrase involving Lucius Malfoy, a goat, nail clippers and a marital aid when the object of her ravings drawled, "You know, Weasley, you should really avoid pastels, and plain white. Jewel tones or earth colors would be fine, but that bra you’re wearing should be burned."
Ginny squeaked as it sunk in that she’d been screaming at him while wearing nothing but a bra and a half slip. She turned to scramble into the robe Hermione was holding only to hear the sound of water sluicing off of a moving body. I will not look, I will not look, I will not look, she chanted to herself, squeezing her eyes tightly shut.
Then she felt the hand at her waist. Her eyes popped open as she felt his breath on her neck, and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end as he whispered, "Nice tattoo."
Hermione snickered at Ginny’s expression as she watched Malfoy leave. As soon as the door was safely shut, it turned into a full-on chortle as she choked out, "He might be a ferret, but a ferret with nice buns, right Ginny?" This was, of course, the cue for something to be thrown at the illustrious Head Girl of Hogwarts.
One hot oil treatment and quite a few soaps, perfumes, and a fair amount of elderflower wine later, they’d come to some conclusions. The first was that they would keep their transformation under wraps until the masquerade being planned for after the Halloween feast, so as to have the greatest impact. The second was that they would go out shopping for underwear and dress material the next day, and plan their costumes accordingly. The third was that Malfoy did, indeed, have a great body, despite the personality inhabiting it.
Eventually they sloshed back to their room, trailing perfume and giggles. It should be noted that neither was particularly experienced at drinking, and they’d had rather a lot of the wine. This might explain slightly why the next morning started out so inauspiciously.
"Hey, slugabeds! Come on, Harry and I are all ready to head for Hogsmeade, we just need our best girls to go with us." Ron smiled cheerily and threw open the curtains before looking at the two lumps that consisted of his sister and sorta-girlfriend.
"B’grr off." The closest thing to a coherent statement came from somewhere around Hermione’s footboard. The other lump just groaned and shifted.
"Come on, love, daylight’s wasting. We’re going to meet Seamus and Dean at the Three Broomsticks and then go to check out the new brooms at Quality Quidditch Supplies." Despite the cajoling tone of someone offering a rare treat, Hermione was not enticed by Ron’s offer.
"Don’ wanna." The covers tightened and then relaxed long enough to spit out, "Go ‘way."
Ron started trying to drag the covers off the lump that was his beloved. "Come on, ‘Mione, up and at ‘em. You’ll miss breakfast if you don’t get up soon. They’ve got your favorite smoked kippers on."
This was the cue for the Ginny-lump to run for the half-bath en suite, gagging. The other lump produced a head, which produced a potent death glare. If she’d been able to open both eyes, it might’ve caused physical harm. "Ron. Sod. Off."
"What’s wrong, Hermione? You’re not yourself lately." Ron frowned and patted the blankets in what he hoped was a safe location. This might have been the end of it, if he hadn’t gone on to say the seven words of doom. "Is it that time of the month?"
One might have thought there was a levitation spell in effect if it hadn’t been for the lack of magic words or a wand. Instantly the lump on the bed resolved itself to reveal Miss Hermione Granger, pissed off witch. Despite being only five feet, four inches tall, she managed to loom threateningly over the six foot bulk of one clueless redheaded boy. Rumpled, half-off nightgown and slightly greasy flyaway hair notwithstanding, she made an impressive sight as she gathered her breath and then let fly with all of the pent up rage of several years of being a sorta-girlfriend.
"But! Hermione, listen!" Ron’s sputterings were punctuated by crashes as small, breakable objects were launched at his head. There were shrieks about kissing, Harry, quidditch, and flowers, but between the lack of coherence and his efforts to dodge, Ron didn’t catch how they all fit together.
Finally, chest heaving, Hermione stalked over to the cowering Ron and grabbed him by the shirtfront. The sudden silence led Ginny to peek around one door and Harry to peek around another, only to see Hermione kissing Ron as if determined to swallow him whole. Just when it seemed like they’d both die of oxygen deprivation, Hermione pushed Ron away. "You think about that when you’re trying to figure out the difference between dating and palling around with your mates." One quick shove and a slammed door led to a distinct lack of Ron in the vicinity.
After a moment, Ginny broke the silence with, "Have I ever mentioned that you’re my hero?"
"Come on, let’s go shopping. That boy’s going to swallow his tongue with lust before I’m through." Hermione pulled casual clothes on and grabbed her money pouch.
"Ew, didn’t need the mental image." Ginny trailed after her incandescent friend, still buttoning as they went.
The next morning saw two extremely bleary eyed girls walking into the great hall. This didn’t attract all that much attention, except when they were walking past the Slytherin table and both stumbled. Books and parchments flew everywhere, and the liquid one of the girls was carrying went flying.
"Bloody hell!" Malfoy was out of his seat and wiping his face off with a napkin. "Can’t you ruddy cows even manage to walk without causing disaster?"
Hermione busied herself with picking up her precious books, but Ginny just shoved back the hair that had come loose from her braid and glared. "If it weren’t for your big dumb ox sticking her stupid feet in our way, this never would’ve happened. Honestly, Ferret, can’t you make the time to enroll Parkinson in an obedience class?"
Pansy sputtered something along the lines of "How dare you" as Hermione grabbed the last of her things off the floor and hauled Ginny away. Dragging her backpack, Ginny called back, "I’d go wash that off, Malfoy, since there’s no house elves around to cast a cleaning charm for you."
The patented Malfoy sneer came out and he said, "Maybe you’re too stupid or slobby to care about grooming, but some of us have an image to maintain."
Hermione slapped a hand over Ginny’s mouth and continued to drag her to the Gryffindor table. They sat down next to each other and started whispering to each other, completely ignoring the strange looks they got. Lavender leaned over and whispered, "Hermione, did Ron and Harry do something to make you mad?"
Any response to that was lost in the laughter that was rocking the hall. Ginny looked insufferably smug as she took a big sip of her pumpkin juice and counted down. Three... Two... One. "Weasel, what the hell did you put in my hair?"
Ginny shoved the loose strands of hair back behind her ear and batted her lashes in a grand show of innocence. "I? Put something in your hair? That would involve touching you voluntarily." An exaggerated shudder drew a certain amount of male attention away from her face momentarily, but Malfoy’s eyes barely flickered. "No, no, Malfoy, I’m certain that I didn’t place anything in your hair deliberately."
Malfoy’s teeth were grinding together and he leaned in to hiss, "Look, Weasley, I’m not going to ask again. Why is my hair blue?"
"Well, I’m not entirely sure. It might have to do with the muggle hair dye mixed into the potion that Hermione and I were working on." Ginny bit her lip as she pulled the Perfect-Little-Angel face that had led to the twins taking the fall for her more than once. "Oh, I do so wish that Pansy hadn’t tripped us. I really wanted to see how it turned out."
"I wouldn’t advise dyeing your hair, Weasel. You don’t have anywhere near enough style to carry it off." Turning on his heel, Malfoy strode back to the Slytherin table, savoir faire intact and making it seem almost like the wild streaks of bright metallic blue in his hair were placed there deliberately.
"Gin, that was great!" Ron laughed and pulled up a chair next to his sister. He had just snitched a piece of bacon from her plate and was about to put it in his mouth when he noticed twin glares directed at him. "What?"
"Push off, Ron. We’d like some privacy." Even Ginny turned to look at Hermione with unbelieving eyes at her outburst. "Come on, Ginny, we still need to visit the library." With that they left, although as a loving younger sister, Ginny was considerate enough to close Ron’s jaw for him.
Classes proceeded as they normally did, and Malfoy’s revenge didn’t appear during lunch or dinner, even if he and Ginny did have several more sparring sessions in the hallways. Finally they retreated to their lair to contemplate the unexplored riches that Hermione’s mother had sent. Apparently Mrs. Granger was quite enthused at her daughter finally being interested in such things, because poor Hedwig had had difficulty with the weight of the package. Conditioners, lotions, perfumes, fashion magazines... Anything that might be bought late at night in London was spilled across Hermione’s bed, and there was a promise of more to come.
After a great deal of giggling, they gathered the likeliest looking bottles and their bathrobes and headed off for the prefect’s bath, counting on the late hour to keep others away. This was not, as it turned out, a good idea.
"Practicing for a strip act, ladies? I don’t doubt Weasley could use the coins, but I have to say you’re both horrible at it." There was only one person on earth who could achieve that precise timbre of sneering in their voice.
"Malfoy, you... You..." While Hermione had shrieked and pulled her robe back on, Ginny turned purple and went on the attack. She started with simple, short Anglo-Saxon words in interesting combinations, then progressed to include Egyptian, Romanian, and French words for more esoteric curses, completely ignoring Hermione’s attempts to get her attention.
She was just getting around to spitting out a really complicated phrase involving Lucius Malfoy, a goat, nail clippers and a marital aid when the object of her ravings drawled, "You know, Weasley, you should really avoid pastels, and plain white. Jewel tones or earth colors would be fine, but that bra you’re wearing should be burned."
Ginny squeaked as it sunk in that she’d been screaming at him while wearing nothing but a bra and a half slip. She turned to scramble into the robe Hermione was holding only to hear the sound of water sluicing off of a moving body. I will not look, I will not look, I will not look, she chanted to herself, squeezing her eyes tightly shut.
Then she felt the hand at her waist. Her eyes popped open as she felt his breath on her neck, and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end as he whispered, "Nice tattoo."
Hermione snickered at Ginny’s expression as she watched Malfoy leave. As soon as the door was safely shut, it turned into a full-on chortle as she choked out, "He might be a ferret, but a ferret with nice buns, right Ginny?" This was, of course, the cue for something to be thrown at the illustrious Head Girl of Hogwarts.
One hot oil treatment and quite a few soaps, perfumes, and a fair amount of elderflower wine later, they’d come to some conclusions. The first was that they would keep their transformation under wraps until the masquerade being planned for after the Halloween feast, so as to have the greatest impact. The second was that they would go out shopping for underwear and dress material the next day, and plan their costumes accordingly. The third was that Malfoy did, indeed, have a great body, despite the personality inhabiting it.
Eventually they sloshed back to their room, trailing perfume and giggles. It should be noted that neither was particularly experienced at drinking, and they’d had rather a lot of the wine. This might explain slightly why the next morning started out so inauspiciously.
"Hey, slugabeds! Come on, Harry and I are all ready to head for Hogsmeade, we just need our best girls to go with us." Ron smiled cheerily and threw open the curtains before looking at the two lumps that consisted of his sister and sorta-girlfriend.
"B’grr off." The closest thing to a coherent statement came from somewhere around Hermione’s footboard. The other lump just groaned and shifted.
"Come on, love, daylight’s wasting. We’re going to meet Seamus and Dean at the Three Broomsticks and then go to check out the new brooms at Quality Quidditch Supplies." Despite the cajoling tone of someone offering a rare treat, Hermione was not enticed by Ron’s offer.
"Don’ wanna." The covers tightened and then relaxed long enough to spit out, "Go ‘way."
Ron started trying to drag the covers off the lump that was his beloved. "Come on, ‘Mione, up and at ‘em. You’ll miss breakfast if you don’t get up soon. They’ve got your favorite smoked kippers on."
This was the cue for the Ginny-lump to run for the half-bath en suite, gagging. The other lump produced a head, which produced a potent death glare. If she’d been able to open both eyes, it might’ve caused physical harm. "Ron. Sod. Off."
"What’s wrong, Hermione? You’re not yourself lately." Ron frowned and patted the blankets in what he hoped was a safe location. This might have been the end of it, if he hadn’t gone on to say the seven words of doom. "Is it that time of the month?"
One might have thought there was a levitation spell in effect if it hadn’t been for the lack of magic words or a wand. Instantly the lump on the bed resolved itself to reveal Miss Hermione Granger, pissed off witch. Despite being only five feet, four inches tall, she managed to loom threateningly over the six foot bulk of one clueless redheaded boy. Rumpled, half-off nightgown and slightly greasy flyaway hair notwithstanding, she made an impressive sight as she gathered her breath and then let fly with all of the pent up rage of several years of being a sorta-girlfriend.
"But! Hermione, listen!" Ron’s sputterings were punctuated by crashes as small, breakable objects were launched at his head. There were shrieks about kissing, Harry, quidditch, and flowers, but between the lack of coherence and his efforts to dodge, Ron didn’t catch how they all fit together.
Finally, chest heaving, Hermione stalked over to the cowering Ron and grabbed him by the shirtfront. The sudden silence led Ginny to peek around one door and Harry to peek around another, only to see Hermione kissing Ron as if determined to swallow him whole. Just when it seemed like they’d both die of oxygen deprivation, Hermione pushed Ron away. "You think about that when you’re trying to figure out the difference between dating and palling around with your mates." One quick shove and a slammed door led to a distinct lack of Ron in the vicinity.
After a moment, Ginny broke the silence with, "Have I ever mentioned that you’re my hero?"
"Come on, let’s go shopping. That boy’s going to swallow his tongue with lust before I’m through." Hermione pulled casual clothes on and grabbed her money pouch.
"Ew, didn’t need the mental image." Ginny trailed after her incandescent friend, still buttoning as they went.
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