Summary: Ginny dyes her hair. Her parents are concerned.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author's Note: This started out as a rather pointless drabble, but I might continue it if I get the time. As always, any and all feedback is appreciated. :)

The Makeover

On the first day of the summer holidays, everything was quiet. Molly opened all the windows in the kitchen to let some light and air into the small room, thankful for the pleasant weather they were having. She thought of this and that, and here and there, and nothing of great importance as she tied an apron around her waist and got ready to cook lunch. She heard footsteps behind her and knew who it was without having to turn around.

"Good morning to you, Ginny, but just barely. Did you sleep well?" Molly started to retrieve her pots and pans from underneath the sink.

"Mum… could you please not turn around?" Ginny said.

Molly smiled. "Got a surprise for me?"

"Kind of. Um, okay, never mind, turn around."

Molly turned around, and her mouth fell open. Ginny's long hair was now jet-black instead of fiery red. Her eyes seemed darker too… or was that just some kohl?

Ginny swayed nervously from foot to foot. "What do you think?"

Molly stared at her for a few minutes, then smiled at last. "I think you look… sophisticated."

Ginny beamed, looking extremely relieved. "Really?"

"Oh, yes. You look very grown-up. So when is it coming off?"

"What is?"

"The dye. You surely didn't charm your hair, did you?"

"Oh, oh no. No, I dyed it. I'm not stupid enough to charm my hair. I can wash the dye off with a potion I got, if I want." Ginny went over to the pantry and started to rummage around some of the containers.

"No snacking," Molly said firmly. "Lunch will be ready in an hour."

Ginny let out a long-suffering sigh. Molly stared at her again. She couldn't get over how different her daughter looked. She turned back to the counter, and set aside a cutting board and some vegetables.

"Help me out and slice these tomatoes for me, Ginny," Molly said, as she waved her wand over the bacon in the frying pan. The meat began to sizzle. Ginny came up next to her mother and began to slice up the vegetables without a word.

Molly allowed herself to relax a bit. Yes, the sudden change in hair-colour was a bit unnerving, but Merlin knows she had certainly experimented quite a lot with cosmetic charms when she was Ginny's age. It was harmless, really.

She wondered what Arthur would say.


"Did the twins do this to you?" he asked, the moment he saw his daughter.

Across the dinner table, Fred and George snickered. "No, our darling sister managed to make herself look like a Banshee on a bad hair day without any help from us at all. Frankly, we're hurt that she didn't allow us to enhance her features a bit," said one.

"Right. With some fangs and maybe a couple of puncture wounds to the neck, Ginny would be all set to join the Underground Creatures of the Night Resistance," said the other.

"Shut up," Ginny said, looking very embarrassed.

"That's enough, boys," Molly said as she placed a large bowl of steamed fish on the table.

Arthur looked at Ginny once more and shook his head in wonder. Kids. He started to re-read the report Perkins had left for him at the office. Molly surprisingly did not make a comment about him working at the dinner table. She was quite subdued, actually. The entire family was. Fred and George conversed with each other in hushed whispers, Ron picked at his food, and Molly looked troubled. Of all people, Ginny was the only one who was acting normally. She wolfed down her food as hungrily as she always did.

After dinner, Arthur sought out Ron. "Do you know why Ginny coloured her hair?" he asked his son.

"I dunno. Maybe she wants to impress some punk boyfriend she's got," he muttered, before leaving the kitchen.

Arthur immediately turned to Molly, who was clearing away the table. Everyone else had gone off upstairs. "Do you think Ginny's got a punk boyfriend?" he asked worriedly.

Molly looked up in surprise. "What do you mean by 'punk'?"

Arthur had no idea. "Er, a shady sort."

Molly set the dishes in the sink and looked at him, concern writ large on her face. "Oh, I hope not. Nothing good comes out of a relationship with an underground. I mean, remember what happened when I was walking out with that vampire--"

"You dated a vampire?"

Molly again looked surprised. "You didn't know? But everyone did. When I was fifteen or sixteen, that Melvin Hawthorn a year above us, in Ravenclaw."

"Hawthorn?" Arthur had to sit down. "I had no idea."

Molly sat down as well, smiling a bit dreamily. "Oh, he was a rougish sort all right. All the girls adored him. It must have been that mysterious, tortured-soul image he had."

Arthur couldn't help it. He snorted. Molly raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, well, he turned out to be a right cad. Treated me and all the other girls like last week's laundry. And all of his tall tales about drinking unicorns' blood turned out to be as true as his claim that Dracula was his godfather." Molly shook his head. "What an arse. But he did have the most gorgeous profile."

"Still an arse," Arthur pointed out.

Molly smiled, and then frowned. "Oh, I do hope Ginny hasn't got herself a… a punk boyfriend."

"Well, she seemed to behave normally enough today, at least from what I saw of her. Maybe she just wanted a makeover."

Molly shrugged and sighed. "You're probably right. I still can't see what's wrong with red hair, though. Wasn't my hair what made you notice me in the first place?" she asked, smiling.

"Actually, it was that endless supply of jam tarts you always seemed to have on hand," Arthur said innocently.

Molly glared at him and stood up. "Well. I know someone who's definitely not getting any jam tarts tonight. Good night, Arthur Weasley."

She marched up the stairs to their bedroom, and Arthur rushed after her. The sofa was far too lumpy for his taste.