Hold On (A Dramione Fanfiction)

13. A Million Times Yes

"I think you should write to Kingsley, Harry," Hermione told her best friend the night before the second ball. Ginny had already gone to be fully ready for the next day and had left them both in the common room.

"Why?" Harry asked, whisking his wand in the air and making colorful fumes appear as he smiled.

Hermione sighed and got up, pacing. "Because there hasn't been single news on the murder! It's to wonder if they had any leads at all!"

"Kingsley is handling the situation at his best, I trust him," Harry told his best friend.

"It's not him I doubt. I doubt the whole Ministry behind him. Remember our sixth year? The Ministry can't be trusted," Hermione muttered, glaring at the Daily Prophet. "And I can't believe this horrible woman is still working!" she pestered, pointing to a picture where Rita Skeeter was waving and smiling at the camera. "The best writer of the year? I wonder how she won that award!"

Harry shrugged. "Listen, if you're so worried about it, I'll write to him and ask for any information." He hugged her goodnight and left.

Hermione shook her head and puffed. She hated not being taken seriously and Harry knew that. Yet, he pushed away her concerns. It was as if history was repeating itself.

She subconsciously scratched her left arm and cursed when she saw blood. The mark seemed to be on fire and she hadn't found any ointment to ease the pain. Perhaps she should go ask Madam Pomfrey.

*****

"I think the concept is perfect!" Ginny gushed, fixing her hair into a tight bun and putting on her wig, which was black. She twirled around and smiled at her reflection in the mirror.

Hermione frowned as she tried to put on the large gown. The dress was inspired by the 17th century and she hated it with a passion. "I will have to disagree with you, Gin," she told her. Ginny turned around with grace and rushed to help Hermione in her dress. "Thanks."

"You're welcome! Now, some makeup!" she said, applying a layer of red lipstick on her lips. She searched in her bag of makeup and handed Hermione a pink one. "This will go well with your outfit."

"I really don't like lipsticks. What if I want to eat?" Hermione narrowed her eyes at the lipstick and Ginny sighed.

"We're witches, Hermione. There's a spell on it so that it doesn't go anywhere but on lips."

"Oh." Hermione was a witch, but for most of her life, she had lived as a Muggle, and there where still things that amazed her from the wizarding world.

"I asked Harry to come and take us to the ball," Ginny informed her. "Will you meet that prince charming of yours?" she teased her friend, making her blush.

"We decided on the spot at the last ball, so yes."

"Are you excited? He won't see your real hair with the blond wig you chose, but he'll still see your face, so that's a major step forward, no?"

Hermione tried to smile, but she had butterflies in her stomach. "He won't see my eyes either with the colored lenses I bought during our last trip to Hogsmead," she informed her friend who squealed.

"You'll spill everything after the ball, understood?" Ginny asked with gleaming eyes.

Hermione smiled and nodded. There were suddenly knocks and she quickly put on her wig. Harry then opened the door and shuddered when he saw his girlfriend.

"Please tell me you won't wear this wig all night," he begged her. Ginny winked at him, pecking his lips.

"No, I'll only wear it to go downstairs," she told him, linking their arms. She turned around and smiled at Hermione. "Ready to go?" she asked her friend who nodded in response.