"I don't think anyone's ever monitored what's happened to squibs when they went off into the muggle world," she said when she got back. "I think the Ministry thinks it's a kindness, letting them go off and try to forget about us and all. Anyway, it could be worse," Marjorie said darkly, "I heard some families used to off their offspring, the ones who couldn't…"
That topic made the feeling of the shop feel much less welcoming. Marjorie must've realized she put a foot wrong and busied herself folding and adding the skirts to the small collection of clothes she'd laid out, she even had socks. While she'd been trying things on it seemed like the older girl had spent her time shortening the outer robes to fit, collecting all the other uniform bits she needed with the right coloring, and arranging them almost as fastidiously as Hermione would have done.
Regardless of what 'some families' used to do, if the bank had been open - and it wouldn't be pushing their luck - she might've considered checking out that Latent Legacy Lineages office the goblin had mentioned yesterday, but as it was, she certainly didn't want to give them the chance to shanghai something she may one day look back on as a date.
"But as for your hair," the curly-haired girl said when she was done stacking the clothes as if there hadn't been a break in the conversation, "if you'd been raised in the wizarding world, someone would've told you about this already."
Out from her pocket came the girl's wand, which she pointed towards the register and small shelves of random goods beyond. "Accio Sleekeazy's," Marjorie said.
A green and blue bottle jumped off a shelf and flew at them as fast as a bullet. Hermione ducked out of the way just in time for it to slam into Marjorie's open hand; luckily it didn't break.
"Ow!" the girl gasped, transferring the bottle to her other hand and shaking the one she caught it with as if to lessen the pain. "I was always iffy with Summoning Charms," Marjorie admitted, handing the bottle over to her. "I could never get the power right."
'Sleekeazy's Hair Potion & Scalp Treatment, ' the label read, 'Suitable for all hair types. Unique results for gingers. '
"What does it do for gingers?" Hermione asked, the image of a bald and panicking Ron springing to mind.
"I never got a chance to find out," Marjorie said with a smile. "We tried to get one of the Weasley brothers to give it a go when I was in school, but neither of them was mad enough to try."
"Fred and George?" Hermione asked, wondering why those two wouldn't be up for trying anything at least once.
"No, Bill and Charlie," the other girl said with a curious look. "Just how many of them are there?"
"Seven," Hermione said after a quick mental check, "but one of them's a girl."
Marjorie shook her head in disbelief.
"Prolific breeders aside," the slightly wide-eyed shop assistant said as she went for a bag for her clothes, "If you go by what the instructions say on that, it'd end up taking hours and use most of the bottle, but if you mix about a quarter of it into your shampoo and give it a good shake every time before you use it - more if you want less curls than mine - it works just the same. Went through loads of it before I hit on that trick," she finished with a wink.
"Thank you," Hermione said, both for the potion and for the advice.
"Don't mention it," Marjorie said as she packed her things. "We wild-haired girls need to stick together."
Looking at the bottle which promised to put an end to all her hairstyle heartaches, if the advertising were true, Hermione began to think she'd judged the older girl too quickly. It seems as though in trying to acquire her mother's strengths she'd also taken on her weaknesses - she was far too judgmental and antisocial for her own good, and right after she had told Harry he shouldn't turn away new friends too.
She had always prided herself on being practical, but here was an entire sphere of everyday-practicality she never would've known about had she pulled a Puckle and made Marjorie leave her alone. If she had, she would've been just like the other girl and left absolutely clueless about how to do things on her own once she graduated - unless she used non-magical means, of course. It occurred to her that being such a Puckle, in itself, was a kind of narrow-mindedness prohibiting you from learning from others unless they adhered to your own particular views of how they should behave. Hermione would always keep her feet on the ground, it's who she was, but that didn't mean she had to yank everyone else down too.
True independence and difference from her mother wasn't going to be won through bon-bon bullets or cupcake cluster bombs, she saw that now. She'd been fighting to be something different but on the wrong front entirely. It would have to be done by being open-minded, friendly, and non-judgmental. Hermione only wished it didn't seem such a daunting task because she hadn't had any practice at doing that at all. It'd be much easier just to get her mother to swear.