Why We Fight

Part 27:
Girls' Day Out
(Friday, October 14, 1977)

Hermione sat on her bed, looking over her Potions essay. "So, do you have an outfit for the Halloween Masque?" Lily inquired as she brushed out her long, red hair.

Hermione looked at her roommate. "Er...no..." she admitted.

"Well, tomorrow is a Hogsmeade weekend; would you like to go shopping with me?" Lily asked as she headed toward the bathroom. Hermione heard the water run, and Lily ducked her head into the Head Girl's room, drying her face with a towel. "Well?"

Hermione looked at Lily. "I'm really not good at that girly stuff," she stated.

Lily had retreated back into the bathroom and called back to Hermione over the sound of running water. "It's okay, I'll help."

Hermione winced. "Swell," she mumbled.

"What?" Lily called.

"Sounds great!" Hermione replied.

(Saturday, October 15, 1977)

Hermione finished proofreading her Potions essay and looked toward the Head Girl's room with hope. Maybe Lily had forgotten. Maybe, just maybe -- the door to the Head Girl's room opened and Lily exited -- maybe not. Hermione was unlike most girls her age; she hated shopping...especially for clothes. There had only been one instance of Hermione actually enjoying clothes shopping and that had been when she had been searching for her Yule Ball gown. And that had been because she had wanted to impress Harry. Hermione didn't feel that same need with Sirius or her date for the Halloween Masque, Severus.

It was still mind-boggling to think that she considered Severus Snape a friend. Hermione frowned thoughtfully. She should really spend more time with Severus; she hadn't really been spending much time with him lately. Hermione felt a wave of guilt and made up her mind to spend more time with him. The brunette shook off her thoughts and realized that Lily was humming. Hermione's ears perked as she recognized "Love Me Do."

The dark-haired girl peered at the Head Girl and Lily blushed, stopping. "I'm in a good mood," she defended.

"Er...why?" Hermione asked.

"In Hogsmeade, I have a date with Draco..." Lily said, grinning at her words. Hermione paled noticeably. "Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot. He's just so different than any other guy I've ever dated."

There was a long pause in which Hermione devised as many ways as possible she could kill the Slytherin-turned-Gryffindor. She paused her thoughts of homicide and wondered if it was possible to kill someone before they even existed. "I'm sure he is," Hermione said, clenching her jaw. Forget the paradox. I'm going to kill him. I'm going to kill him. A lot. I'm going to kill him so well that they'll need dental records... she thought. Lily frowned and Hermione sucked in a calming breath before looking back at Lily. "It's okay. I'm fine." Although Draco Malfoy isn't going to be, she added mentally.

The early morning awkwardness was forgotten on Hermione's part by the time the two girls found themselves exiting the thestral-drawn carriages in downtown Hogsmeade. Overall, the town didn't look too different from the Hogsmeade Hermione knew. Truthfully, it didn't surprise her much. The Wizarding World never changed, just the faces it held. Now, London, she bet that it looked entirely different than the one she was familiar with.

Lily led Hermione through the town and a few people stopped them to chat with Lily. They finally arrived at their destination: a small shop that Hermione had never seen before. All sorts of costumes decorated moving mannequins in the large shop window and every few minutes, the mannequins would wear different outfits. The tiny shop, like most that Hermione had seen in the Wizarding World, looked much bigger on the inside. The shop smelled like pumpkins and was decorated with all sorts of Halloween decorations. Behind the counter was a waif-like woman with pale skin, blood-red lips, and dark hair. Hermione was pretty sure she was a vampire...or at least pretending to be one.

Lily walked up to the counter as the woman was ringing up someone. "Oh, Lily, I have your costume," the woman said with a hint of a lilting French accent.

"Oh, thank you, Delia," Lily said as the woman handed her a long, Grecian gown in an emerald green color. "May I try it on?"

"Go ahead," Delia said as she examined Hermione. Lily went back to the changing rooms and came back wearing the outfit. Hermione's eyes widened. Lily was pretty, but the gown made her look even more so. The emerald color brought out her eyes and pale skin and made her red hair even redder. The gown had a gathered waist that went from just below her breasts to the swell of her hips, a long skirt that brushed the ground, and was sleeveless.

Lily blushed as most of the males that were in the shop turned their gaze to her. "How do I look?" she asked.

Delia clapped her French-manicured hands together as she examined the dress. "Magnifique!" she said.

"So what are you going as?" Hermione asked.

"A nymph," Lily said. "I've got ivy I'm going to put into my hair, around my upper arms, and a pair of sandals." She turned to Delia. "Hermione needs a costume as well."

Delia's perfectly-shaped brows rose with horror. "Mon Dieu! Zee dance ees only two weeks away!" she cried, her French accent making her English sound like Fleur Delacour's. She took a deep breath and continued with the slightly-accented voice she had started with, "Well, I always do appreciate a challenge. Let us see, who do you wish to be?"

"Er...I haven't given it much thought," Hermione stated. Delia's eyes widened and she turned away, letting out a spiel of angry French under her breath.

"The point of Halloween is simple--" Lily started.

"Free candy?" Hermione suggested.

Lily smiled slightly. "It's come as you aren't night," she replied. She examined her reflection in a mirror. "'Man is least himself when he speaks in his own person. Give him a mask and he'll tell you the truth.' Oscar Wilde."

"Being someone you aren't makes you more yourself?" Hermione asked and Lily nodded. "What if you don't know who you are?"

"Then it's the perfect time to find out," Lily stated. After two hours of thinking and looking, Hermione had chosen her costume. Delia agreed to owl it to Hogwarts in time for the Masque. "You're going to look amazing for the Masque." Hermione smiled and blushed at Lily's comment.

---

After finishing costume shopping, Hermione met with Sirius at their prearranged destination: Honeydukes. The shop was full of Hogwarts students desperate to spend their less-than-hard-earned money and the heady scent of sweets. It didn't take Hermione long to find the Marauders; they were looking at eggs that dissolved into marshmallow birds. Sirius smile at Hermione. "Hello, Hermione," Sirius said, giving her a light peck on the lips.

Draco (who had been living in James's body for over a week now and had adapted to the role quite easily with the exception of startling his professors by actually answering questions) scowled slightly at Sirius. He was still having that strange feeling that was entirely new and annoying; which could in no possible way be jealousy.

Hermione blushed and looked at the rest of the Marauders. "Remus, Peter, James," she said.

"Would you like to go for a walk?" Sirius asked. Hermione nodded and Sirius led her out of the shop.

"What does she see in him anyway?" Draco mumbled.

"You okay there, Prongs?" Peter asked. Draco looked at the Marauders as he realized that he was still in James's body.

Sirius smiled at Hermione as they walked through downtown Hogsmeade. "So, what'd you do today?" he asked.

"Lily dragged me to this shop to get a costume for the Masque," Hermione stated.

"Ooh," Sirius said. "Revealing, hopefully?" She smacked his arm playfully. "Ow." He gave her a mock-pout. Hermione's brown eyes turned to Sirius.

"Tell me about yourself," she said.

"Is that a question or an order?" he asked with a quirk of his dark brow.

"Consider it both," she replied.

"What do you want to know?" he asked.

"Everything," she said.

"You didn't tell me everything," he reasoned.

"I told you all I'm going to tell you," she replied with a faint smile.

"You're a mysterious woman, Miss de Lioncourt. I find that very attractive..."

"What can I say? I'm a mystery wrapped in an enigma. So, Sirius Black, tell me your darkest secrets."

He grinned, showing off perfect, white teeth. "As you wish," he replied. "Shall we?" He nodded toward a weeping willow beside a small brook. She nodded and he led her underneath the willow's shade. "Well, I'm a pureblood, Sirius Octavian Black," he said. "My brother, Regulus, and I are the only ones in the Black family to ever be in a house other than Slytherin. Well, with the exception of our cousin, Andromeda. Mum had a right fit over that when we came home for Christmas break. She was ranting and raving. She locked herself in her room for a month." He smiled faintly. "One of the best months I ever had. My mum's name is Walburga and dad's Orion, but everyone calls him Augustus because there are so many 'Orions' in the family..."

Hermione giggled and Sirius gave her a look. "It reminds me of a book I read."

"What book?"

"It's a Muggle book. I doubt you've ever heard of it: Charlie and the Chocolate Factory by Roald Dahl."

"You're right there. What's it about?"

"Well, obviously, it's about Charlie and the Chocolate Factory." Sirius gave her another look. "Charlie Bucket is a poor kid with a loving family, his mum, dad, Grandpas George and Joe, and Grandmas Georgina and Josephine. Willy Wonka is an eccentric candy-maker who owns the world's most famous chocolate factory. He sends out five golden tickets to five lucky children throughout the world who will gain a lifetime's supply of candy. The first golden ticket is found by Augustus Gloop, this boy who won't stop eating."

"And my father's name reminded you of this book?"

"There's a poem too, if you'd like to hear it?"

"I could use some amusement," Sirius stated.

Hermione closed her eyes and pictured the book. She'd read it ages ago but she'd always had a magnificent memory. Slowly, she began:

"Augustus Gloop! Augustus Gloop!
The great big greedy nincompoop!
How long could we allow this beast
To gorge and guzzle, feed and feast
On everything he wanted to?

Great Scott! It simply wouldn't do!
However long this pig might live,
We're positive he'd never give
Even the smallest bit of fun
Or happiness to anyone.

So what we do in cases such
As this, we use the gentle touch,
And carefully we take the brat
And turn him into something that
Will give great pleasure to us all--
A doll, for instance, or a ball,
Or marbles or a rocking horse.

But this revolting boy, of course,
Was so unutterably vile,
So greedy, foul, and infantile
He left a most disgusting taste
Inside our mouths, and so in haste
We chose a thing that, come what may,
Would take the nasty taste away.

'Come on!' we cried, 'The time is ripe
To send him shooting up the pipe!
He has to go! It has to be!'
And very soon, he's going to see
Inside the room to which he's gone
Some funny things are going on.

But don't, dear children, be alarmed;
Augustus Gloop will not be harmed,
Although, of course, we must admit
He will be altered quite a bit.
He'll be quite changed from what he's been,
When he goes through the fudge machine:

Slowly, the wheels go round and round,
The cogs begin to grind and pound;
A hundred knives go slice, slice, slice;
We add some sugar, cream, and spice;
We boil him for a minute more,
Until we're absolutely sure
That all the greed and all the gall
Is boiled away for once and all.

Then out he comes! And now! By grace!
A miracle has taken place!
This boy, who only just before
Was loathed by men from shore to shore,
This greedy brute, this louse's ear,
Is loved by people everywhere!
For who could hate or bear a grudge Against a luscious bit of fudge?"

By the time, Hermione had finished her recital; Sirius was lying on the ground laughing so hard that tears were springing to his eyes. "Bloody hell, have you met my dad?" he asked.

"No," Hermione said. Sirius's twinkling dark eyes met hers.

"That poem sounds exactly like him," he stated. Hermione grinned. "Know where I can find a copy of the book?"

"Pretty much any Muggle bookstore, I think," she said.

---

The poem is "Augustus Gloop" by Roald Dahl from his 1967 novel, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.