When Oleandra went down to the Entrance Hall to meet Ron before the Yule Ball started, she had been expecting him to be wearing cheap robes at worst, not this carpet-like abomination.
"Hi," said Ron.
"What the Hel are you wearing?" cried Oleandra. "You're a walking, talking fashion disaster! No— it's worse than that; you're where fashion goes to die— in a horrific train wreck! Who picked these out for you?"
"My mum," moaned Ron. "Just be happy it's not as bad as it could have been."
Oleandra heard Pansy Parkinson's signature snicker behind her. Not her…
"This is the best you could come up with, Oleandra?" she said while laughing, brushing tears out of her eyes. From the way she had attached herself to Draco like a remora to a manta ray, it was probably safe to say that the two were now going out together.
"What in the world is your family going to do without their drapes, Weasley?" guffawed Draco. "Without your load-bearing drapes, your sorry excuse for a house will crumble to pieces!"
"Without anything to cover your windows, I pity the next person who'll look inside your house," cooed Pansy insincerely. "They'll be forced to look at your mother."
Oleandra had to physically drag Ron away from the nasty couple before it came to blows.
"That's right," Daphne's voice resonated in her ear. "No distractions, no diversions— or at least, none until Dumbledore's trapped inside."
No, Oleandra wasn't hearing voices out of nowhere; she had asked Tracey to draw Ansuz and Wunjo behind her ear, which meant that the Faraway Communication Spell was permanently active for the evening!
"Come on," Oleandra told Ron. "They're not worth the trouble."
"I dunno how you do it," grumbled Ron. "If it'd been me, I'd have strangled that prat in his sleep on the first night."
Apart from the mother comment, Draco's comments had been quite accurate; it did look like Ron was wearing antique drapes, especially with the frayed edges, which were beginning to come undone. This wouldn't do; Oleandra couldn't be seen with such a shabby dance partner.
"Hold still," said Oleandra sternly. "Perthro."
"What're you—" Ron began.
Oleandra could quite easily maintain Glamour magic with Perthro, which governed over secrecy, illusions, fate and misdirection. Picturing Cedric's smart robes, she overlaid their appearance onto Ron's body, and just like magic, they were wearing the same type of robes.
"Wow," was the only word that Ron managed to utter.
"You're welcome."
Oleandra was rather distracted; she was discreetly scanning the Entrance Hall for signs of Professor Dumbledore, who she was supposed to keep an eye on. The instant she saw the old man inside the Great Hall, she was to tell Daphne to begin the plan.
But it seemed as though she wasn't the only one to not have their mind on the Ball; Ron also seemed distracted, often saying, "where's Hermione?"
"Hey, Hero," Oleandra greeted Harry, when he came by to see Ron. "Heya, Ginny. Nice dress!"
"Yours is nice too," said Ginny.
"Hi, Oleandra," said Harry, acknowledging his fellow champion.
Ginny had locked arms with Harry, but just as with his best friend Ron, Harry didn't seem too interested in his dance partner. Was he still pining after Cho Chang? Oleandra pitied the girl if he was; something told her that Ginny wouldn't take too kindly to this fact.
"Oh, shi—" Ron began, before diving behind Oleandra and crouching.
The Ravenclaw Quidditch captain had just walked in front of them, arm in arm with Fleur Delacour.
"What's up with you?" Oleandra bemusedly asked Ron, who clearly didn't want to be seen.
"Nothing at all!" said Harry immediately, jumping to the defence of his friend.
"Just a bit of isometric exercise," said Ron weakly. "You know, to warm up— wouldn't want to stretch a muscle before the dance… Ha, ha…"
Oleandra didn't need to know that Ron had succumbed to Fleur's Veela Charms and asked her out in front of hundreds of people right after he had asked Oleandra to go to the ball with him!
"Right…" said Oleandra slowly.
Well, she had the distinct impression that the two boys were lying to her, but she had other matters to attend to. To Ron's relief, Oleandra didn't ask too many questions, and they both resumed their search— Oleandra was looking out for Dumbledore, while Ron was looking out for Hermione, who he believed hadn't managed to get asked out.
Oleandra looked at Neville Longbottom resentfully, who still hadn't paid her back for her cauldron. He had apparently successfully asked out Eloise Midgen, whose nose really was off-centre— probably due to the fact that she had managed to completely dislodge it from her face in an ill-advised attempt to clear herself of acne.
Shortly afterwards, a gust of cold wind penetrated the Entrance Hall as the front doors that lead outside opened, and Professor Karkaroff and his students began entering the hall. Beyond the doors, Oleandra could see that the lawn had received a major overhaul; rose bushes and statues covered in frost had been conjured. And illuminating it all, a veritable cloud of fairy lights formed by thousands of Fairies.
The instant the oaken doors were opened, the Fairies seemed to sense something, making a beeline straight towards Oleandra. Professor Flitwick chased after them in vain, asking them to return to their posts. Usually, Fairies were quite easy to convince to act as decorations, since they were quite coquettish, but this time, they had something else on their mind. They had always liked her, now that she thought about it.
The Fairies buzzed excitedly around Oleandra, who had to take a step back in order to avoid getting others caught in the swarm. Bathed in their mystic glow, Oleandra appeared almost ethereal.
"At last…"
"Our Lady…"
"Soon…"
"Paradise…"
"Awaken…"
"Whoa…"
Those last words had escaped Ron's lips rather than those of the Fairies'; he was seeing Oleandra in a new light; both literally and metaphorically.
If there hadn't been such an impromptu light show, then he would have seen Hermione Granger, whose appearance had radically changed. Instead of her usual bushy hair, it was done in a complex knot above her head, and it was all sleek and shiny. She was even wearing a dress— the sort one would have expected Fleur to wear, not Hermione!
"Those robes…" Ron said, his voice trailing off.
"Shoo!" Oleandra was busy trying to swat the Fairies away. "Oh, you noticed? I had those made with the Basilisk's skin after Harry killed it. I wore these during the first task; wicked, aren't they?"
"Stop drawing attention to yourself more than necessary!" hissed Daphne in her ear. "Why do these things always happen to you?"
"Are you watching from outside?" Oleandra responded. "Someone will see you, get back to your post!"
Oleandra sighed. It was difficult being a phantom thief, sometimes.