A/N: I've been having a problem with line breaks lately, so a slash will indicate a scene break. Enjoy!

/

"Who is that?" Hermione half-shouted, half-whispered to Ginny. Luna was hosting a bridal shower for Ginny, but it was one of those modern ones that were coed.

"That's one of the groomsmen. Actually, the one you're going to be walking down the aisle with."

"I've never seen him before."

"I think he went to Durmstrang, but him and Draco work together and Draco doesn't really have that many friends."

"What's his name?"

"Demetri Vole."

"Vole?"

Ginny shrugged. "What do you want, a background check?"

"That would be nice, yes. I think it's odd you're fine with having a stranger at your wedding."

"Hermione, you're paranoid. Between you and Harry… let's just say I'm glad he isn't in the wedding." Things had crashed and burned between Harry and Ginny shortly after the war. Harry pushed Ginny away instead of allowing her to help him deal with the stress; Hermione knew the feeling. Despite having been through nearly everything together, she couldn't help but push Ron away.

"I'm just being careful."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Go interrogate him yourself, then."

"I will."

"I'm sure you will."

Hermione walked up to the suspicious character on the opposite side of the room and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around and she had to swallow a small gasp. He was much more attractive than she was expecting, having only seen the back of his head. His dark hair was so straight and slicked back that it looked a bit greasy from the back, but from the front it was rather attractive. He was pale enough that she could make out a greenish vein in his forehead. It was one of those things that could be very unattractive or strangely appealing. On him, it was the latter. His lips were rather dark and his eyes an unnatural green that looked like a glassy pool. She had never seen eyes with no flecks in them before.

"Hermione Granger, I presume?"

"Yes, hello," Hermione introduced herself, holding out her hand. He gripped it firmly and they both held on for a second too long. "I take it you're one of the groomsmen."

"That's correct. I believe we'll be walking down the aisle together." He smiled in a manner that seemed slightly off.

"So I've heard. How do you know the groom?"

"We work at the Ministry together. He's been wonderful, showing me the ropes and all that. Britain is still a new place for me, after all."

"But you don't have much of an accent."

Now his smile was downright threatening. "I've moved around a lot."

"Hmm."

"You work at the Ministry as well, don't you?"

"Yes," Hermione responded briskly. "How did you know that?"

"Well, you are the famous Hermione Granger after all." He lifted his hand past her to grab his drink from the bar, brushing her bare shoulder in a way that seemed accidental, but she didn't think it was. "War heroine. I've heard that if it weren't for you, Voldemort would still be around."

"It's funny you say his name; most people don't dare."

"As I said, I'm not from here."

"You know an awful lot for someone who's not from here."

"I like to know my history."

"As you said, though, it's not really your history if you're not from here."

Demetri's eyes roamed over her in a way that made her feel much less clothed than she was. "Even though I just moved here, I like to think of Britain as my own."

/

"So, tell me more about Durmstrang," Hermione insisted. She knew quite a bit about the school from her short dalliance with Viktor Krum, and was hoping to catch the irritating man next to her in a lie. It was the most exciting prospect for the evening considering that Ginny had thought it was an excellent idea to shove her at the end of the table at the rehearsal dinner with only Demetri or Ron to talk to. The choice was easy.

"You don't care about Durmstrang. You find me suspicious."

"And you're changing the subject," Hermione declared triumphantly.

"I would like to know what I have done to incur your mistrust, Hermione. I should like to remedy it presently."

"You come out of nowhere and manage to weasel your way into this wedding," Hermione replied, looking at her plate to avoid the foreigner's aggressive eye contact.

"Merlin, 'Mione, I did not weasel my way in. Mum wanted us here. I can't believe you would use that word."

Hermione sighed and looked up, catching Demetri's eye out of the corner of her own. He was silently laughing to himself. "Ron, I wasn't talk to you."

"I'm not an idiot, Hermione. I think I can tell when you're talking to me."

"Ron—"

"I know it must be hard for you to see me in this setting, but Lavender isn't replacing you. She's just different." Hermione groaned.

"Ron, I'm not upset with you about that. I'm not upset with you at all, actually."

"Hermione, it's okay to be sad."

"You're right, Ron."

"I am?" He sounded shocked.

"This is really hurtful for me to see you in this context. Why don't you move your chair to the other end of the table? I'm sure Ginny will understand."

"The table is really long, Hermione—"

"Ron, use magic.

"Hey, that's my line," Ron joked before thankfully moving. Demetri was still looking much too pleased with himself.

"And what do you look so happy about?" Hermione demanded of her remaining neighbor.

"This is a really lovely dinner so far. Kale with water is my favorite combination."

Hermione laughed in spite of herself. Ginny had been on a bit of a health kick lately, and to everyone's disappointment, it had bled into the wedding.

"Do you think you're going to escape from the questions I have for you that easily?" Hermione asked, a hint of teasing in her voice.

"I didn't hear a question, merely accusations. Perhaps I missed something?" Demetri asked in a light tone.

"Apologies. I've been a bit rude, haven't I?" Hermione wasn't sorry; something in her gut felt wrong, and she had learned a long time ago to trust that feeling. In truth, the irritating ex-boyfriend across the table had taught her that. But clearly her interrogation was getting nowhere. The person next to her was too slippery, and not easily shaken.

"Yes, but it's understandable. It must be hard to trust people when you're used to being on the run."

"Excuse me?"

"It must be very difficult." He said it in a sympathetic tone, but Hermione felt mocked. His eyebrow were knitted in concern, but the rest of his waxy face remained in place, expressionless.

"Yes, I suppose so." Hermione and Demetri were surrounded by people, but for some reason there were alarm bells going off in her head.

"Will you excuse me? I need to use the restroom."

"Of course." Hermione rushed off the bathroom, a foreboding feeling flooding her. She nearly ran into the bride-to-be. "Ginny, you scared me."

"Hermione, you seem tense. Everything alright?"

"I know you won't want to hear about this again, but something about Demetri is really getting under my skin." Hermione said it in a loud whisper, unable to shake the feeling that he was somehow listening.

"Hermione, he's a very sweet man, and I think he's interested in you," Ginny replied, pronouncing the latter half of her sentence in a sing-song voice as she wagged her head back and forth. She was clearly drunk.

"What makes you say that?" Hermione replied breathlessly, terrified of the idea that he was interested in her, but also somewhat excited at the prospect.

"Let's just say I didn't choose the seats completely randomly," Ginny replied with an exaggerated wink. "Certain seats were requested." Demetri requested her? That couldn't be good.

"Then how did Ron end up next to me?"

"Just for fun."

"Thanks, Ginny."

"I really should be getting back. I'm getting married tomorrow!" Hermione and Ginny gushed about the upcoming wedding briefly, but Hermione's heart wasn't in it. She had the same feeling in the pit of her stomach that she had at the Lovegoods' during their visit to Luna's dad. It wasn't a good feeling.

Hermione didn't really need to use the restroom, so she splashed water on her face and returned to the festivities. Part of her wanted to leave, but she couldn't get Demetri's words out of her head. It must be hard to trust people when you're used to being on the run. Was she really going to let what might just be paranoia keep her from her friend's rehearsal dinner? And she would have to face Demetri at the wedding tomorrow regardless.

"I wasn't sure if you were coming back." Hermione felt the hair on the back of her neck prickle.

"Me either," she responded jokingly. Demetri stared back at her with those strangely flat green eyes. And then she remembered something she had read in one her textbooks: it was impossible to transfigure eyes perfectly. They often turned out matte, and even that required enormous skill. It could result in permanent blindness if performed incorrectly, which is why she had never seen the strange effect in person.

"Green is a very unique eye color."

"I'm aware."

"Something like one percent of the population has it."

"That sounds accurate."

Hermione tried to bite her tongue. But whether it was the wine or a decades-old need to prove herself, she couldn't. "It's interesting that you would pick one of the most unique eye colors to transfigure your eyes to."

"Excuse me?" He was thrown, his fake eyes widening only for a moment before he was collected again. His emotional control was impressive, not to mention the skill needed to perform that transfiguration. Even more impressive was the level of confidence he would need to have in his own ability to attempt it.

"You must be very vain," Hermione tried to joke, but knew that her voice still sounded flat. She wasn't as good an actor as her neighbor.

Demetri studied her unabashedly as though considering his options. "Yes, that's true. I always hated my eye color."

"You're not going to deny it? Smart man."

"Clearly I can't get anything past you, Hermione." It sounded like a threat. It really, really sounded like a threat. So when Hermione heard George beginning his drunk goodbyes, she leapt at the opportunity.

"George, let me help you home."

"Hermione, I am fine. I really am—" Hermione wrapped her arms around George as though to hug him and whispered in his ear, "just go with it."

"Well, alright, Hermione, if you insist. You never did know how to have fun."

Hermione rolled her eyes and slipped an arm around George. She didn't bother looking behind her.