Gold was not her color. At least, that was what she decided as she pulled at the glittering sequins and compared the showstopping shade to her wan complexion. She might have looked ravishing two years earlier, but lack of sleep and a depleting appetite had left her with visible bones and deep semicircles below her glassy eyes—certain signs that she was meant to wear something conservative, something that would not draw any attention.

"It's too much," she said, smoothing down the front.

"It is not," Ginny retorted with a roll of her eyes. "You loved it when you picked it out this summer."

"When I picked it out this summer I was—" Hermione stopped herself. She had nearly admitted how much weight she had lost, and that was a conversation she was not prepared to have again.

"You were what?"

"I was—I was standing in different lighting," she lied. "I thought it was a bit less...yellow."

"I thought you liked it because it was a bit yellow."

The longer Hermione looked, the more she wanted to tear it off and never put it on again. Floor-length and much more expensive than it should have been, the dress hugged the curvature of her jutting hipbones and wrapped around the edges of her protruding ribcage. It fit like a glove, but it was a glove she never wanted to wear.

"That's it. I'm not going."

"You can't back out now," Ginny whined. "Besides, you look gorgeous."

Hermione frowned and tugged at the neckline, which dipped lower than she remembered. She supposed that was the consequence of weight loss; her breasts were no longer as full as they had been when she first tried on the garment, and because of this, the neckline loosely plunged, threatening to expose more of her than she was comfortable exposing.

"You don't think it's a bit...low-cut?"

"Of course it is, but it's a party. You can show off a little," Ginny reassured her.

"I don't remember yours being this revealing," Hermione commented, still fussing with the plunging neckline.

"It's not, but I'm getting married. If Harry were coming, it would probably be even more revealing than yours." She wore a devious smirk. "Oh come on! You want to impress Tobias Quincy, don't you?"

"Of course not!"

Ginny laughed. "Calm down. I'm only joking."

"Right. Right, of course," Hermione said with a relieved sigh. She ran her fingertips along the lines of her ribs. "You're sure it isn't too much?"

"I'm sure. Now sit down. If I don't start in on your hair now, we'll never get there on time."

Even though Hermione was not so sure about the dress, she sunk to the floor in front of her bed where Ginny was sitting. There was the sound of a bottle being uncorked, immediately followed by the smell of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion: It was distinctly floral with hints of something foul, like the scent of lavender was only there to cover the stink of another more pungent ingredient. Hermione's nose puckered as Ginny dropped a thick glob atop her scalp. The feeling was familiar, but uncomfortable.

The first time she had used the product, she was a small fourth-year attending the Yule Ball and, for the first time in her life, she had felt pretty. All heads turned when she entered the room, and it was not only because she was with Viktor Krum. While she pretended she could not hear the many whispers, she had. There were jealous hisses from other girls and awestruck stares from every boy she knew.

Even Malfoy could not tear his gaze away from her. Rumor had it that he and Pansy Parkinson had a rather nasty fight over his wandering eyes.

"D'you think Slughorn will even invite him?"

Hermione winced as Ginny combed the potion through her thick locks. "Why wouldn't he?"

"Well, I was a bit distracted, but from what I gathered, wasn't he going on about toads and their bloody breeding habits?"

"Oh, Tobias, right. Er—yeah. Yes, he was on about that for a good while."

"Who did you think I was talking about?" Ginny paused for a moment and in their reflection, Hermione noticed she had quirked a brow.

"Erm—nobody. Sorry. I was just—I was just thinking about an assignment I forgot to proofread. I'll—erm—I'll need to do that after the party."

"Er—right," Ginny said, sounding a bit unconvinced. "Can you turn your head to the left?"

Obliging, Hermione felt her stomach flip. Again, she was thinking about Malfoy, and to further her horror, she was afraid—not afraid of him or of what he might be doing, but afraid that he might not show up to the Christmas party.


Professor Slughorn's office was impressively more festive than it had been in Hermione's sixth year. Glittering fairy lights, emerald drapery, and braided garland lined the entire space, while a sprig of mistletoe hung above the snow-kissed conifer arbor in the corner. As though that were not enough, large crimson bows dotted the ceiling and a heaping buffet emanated the rich smell of roast turkey and venison gravy. It may have been welcoming to most, but to Hermione, it was suspicious.

By the buffet, a house-elf was stacking a silver tray high with elegant hors d'oeuvres and it was this subtle detail that confirmed what Hermione suspected. Professor Slughorn was not responsible for the decorations at all. Instead, the chore was forced upon the castle's resident house-elves, notoriously busy creatures that had been cursed with lifelong servitude under Magical Law.

Apparently, this did not bother anyone else, because Imogene Fortescue, Jezebel Twitt, and their dates hardly paid the little elf any attention. Hermione, on the other hand, had drawn all four pairs of eyes, and she could feel more landing on her.

"Miss Granger! Miss Weasley! How wonderful that you were both able to make it," Slughorn greeted them. "Come, come. A few of your schoolmates were a bit early, as you can see..."

Hermione anxiously patted her flat hair and followed the professor past the entryway. She quickly became the subject of many whispers and pointing fingers—and it was not because of her revealing dress.

"A goblet of eggnog for you, miss?"

Hermione peered down to meet the bulbous stare of an eager house-elf—a different one than she had seen by the buffet. Upon the elf's silver tray were several bejeweled goblets, all filled to the brim with alcoholic offerings that she had likely been forced to mix herself.

With a smile, Hermione accepted one and said, "Thank you so much. You're doing a brilliant job—" Suddenly, she realized she did not know how to address the elf, so she bent to the creature's level and asked, "Sorry, what's your name?"

"Eeba's name?" the house-elf croaked back. "Oh, a kind witch, you are! A kind witch indeed—"

"Excuse me!"

Hermione looked up to see a plump blonde girl with a wide nose and thick, clumped mascara. Dressed in shimmering seafoam green, she was hitched on the arm of one of the only two twins in the Slug Club, and she appeared all too proud to be there.

"I'd like some eggnog, Ardif."

"Y-yes, of course!" the boy stammered. "Anything you want, sugar-drop."

As he moved forward to take a goblet, Hermione noticed he stepped on the house-elf's toe. Eeba made a face, but did not make the mistake of slipping out a sound.

"You could be more polite, you know!" Hermione yelled, balling her fist. "You stepped on her toe and you didn't even apologize!"

The blonde girl let out a hearty chuckle. "Funny how someone shagging a Malfoy seems so worried about the affairs of elves. You do know his family likely has a dozen of them, don't you?"

"She isn't shagging Malfoy, you chit!" Ginny growled. "And speaking of shagging, maybe you ought to ask your little boyfriend about the Beauxbatons girl he always talks about in our meetings!"

Ardif blanched under the searing leer of his date. Immediately, low-volume accusations fell from her glossy lips and she began tugging him through the room's small crowd to, undoubtedly, scold him.

"Thanks, Gin," Hermione said.

"Nothing to fuss about. She was asking for it."

Hermione hoped to apologize to the house-elf, but during her and the blonde's quarrel, the short creature had disappeared amongst the small crowd. With a heavy sigh, Hermione noted, "At least we aren't the only ones that didn't bring dates."

Beside an ice sculpture of an ugly cherub, Dewey Blunk stood with his arms crossed. Alone and rocking on his heels, he was the most awkward person in the room.

"If you're talking about Blunk, he has a date," Ginny said, "supposedly."

"How do you know?"

"Clappord told me she caught him snogging some girl in the dungeons yesterday."

"That doesn't mean he has a—oh. Never mind."

A brunette slunk away from Melinda Tatting and her square-jawed date, only to latch onto the arm of the Slytherin in question. She ghosted his ear as she whispered something to him, earning several disinterested nods in response.

Nothing about the girl seemed particularly problematic, but when she glanced upward, Ginny breathed, "Merlin's beard! It's her?"

"What's wrong?" Hermione whispered.

"That girl—I know her. She's been hanging around our Quidditch practices."

Blunk and his date were staring at the two of them and Hermione realized how terribly obvious it probably was that she and Ginny were talking about them. She cleared her throat and averted her gaze to the entryway. There, beside a rosy-cheeked Slughorn, was the person she was most afraid to see.

Her heart started to hammer in her chest.

"Oh, Granger! Your date is finally here!"

The voice belonged to Imogene Fortescue. The willowy heiress was smirking at her from across the room, holding up her goblet as though she wanted to propose a toast. To her left was a tall boy with a rather sizeable gut and a light blue tie to match her dress robes. The boy gave Hermione an apologetic look.

"He's not my—"

"Ahem!" Slughorn clasped his hands together as Malfoy sneered and tromped towards the buffet. "I do hope everyone is having a good time?"

"Absolutely, Professor," Imogene said, still smirking. "I can't thank you enough for the invitation."

"Yes, of course," he murmured, glancing from her to Hermione. "Has everyone had the opportunity to get a bit of eggnog? There's a house-elf around here somewhere... Oh, where did that elf go?"

Professor Slughorn, then, clearly wanting to avoid any confrontation between the two girls, started shuffling through the cramped room to find the house-elf called Eeba.

Hermione had been so focused on Imogene that she did not even notice Dewey Blunk and his date approaching.

"Weasley."

"Blunk."

Surprised by their sudden visitors, Hermione nearly choked on her drink. The brunette on Blunk's arm examined her, almost as though she could not believe she was seeing the Gryffindor in the flesh.

"Hermione Granger," she started, "I'm surprised to see you here."

"And why is that?"

"Well, as cute as that picture of you and Malfoy was, it did cause a bit of a stir around the school, didn't it? How long has that been going on?"

"Firstly, I have no idea who you are, so I'm not sure why you're even talking to me," Hermione said, curtly. She was clenching her fist so hard that her nails were digging into her palm. "Secondly, despite whatever rumors the Daily Prophet has conjured, nothing is going on between me and Draco Malfoy."

"Of course not," the girl said with a wink. "A Muggle-born would never be caught with a Malfoy—especially not one of your stature."

"It has nothing to do with being a Muggle-born. I'm simply not interested in him in that way and I'm sure he's not interested in me in that way either."

Her stomach was flipping again.

"If you say so. All that I'm saying is that you looked quite happy with him in that photograph. Honestly, I didn't even believe it was you without that scowl on your face."

Hermione narrowed her eyes.

"Yes, that's the one!"

"You're just jealous that she's important enough to be in the news," Ginny said, acidly.

Imogene Fortescue must have sensed the tension, because she was gliding towards them with a twinkling smile and her bored date in tow. From across the room, the plump blonde girl was wiping mascara-black tears away and eyeing the situation.

"Oh no. You've caught me. I've always wanted to be in the paper for sleeping with the enemy."

Imogene Fortescue snorted. Her date, on the other hand, did not seem to find it all that funny. Frowning, Imogene elbowed him in the side.

"Sleeping with the enemy?" Ginny repeated. "She isn't sleeping with anyone!"

Hermione thought the room was closing in around her. Was Professor Slughorn's office always so small? Surely there were not that many guests?

"What? Jealous, Weasley?" Blunk's date shot back with a smirk. "Wish she was sleeping with you?"

Ginny was reaching for her wand, but Hermione quickly stopped her and shook her head.

"She's not worth it, Gin."

From the corner of her eye, she risked a glance at Malfoy. He was standing at the buffet, positively fuming and knuckles white from gripping his goblet too hard.

"Yeah, you're right," Ginny muttered. "Come on. I saw a house-elf carrying a banoffee pie I wanted a slice of."

Then, just as the two of them turned to find the house-elf, Blunk shouted, "Keep larding up, Weasley! You won't be able to get your broom off the ground!"

Ginny pivoted and shot him a glare. "You better watch your back on the pitch, Blunk, and if I see that little girlfriend of yours at another Gryffindor practice, you best believe you'll be the one paying for it."

He stalked towards her. The two of them were so close that their noses were nearly touching. "Is that a threat, Weasley?"

"Don't!" his date interjected, tugging him back by his robes. "She's Granger's friend and we know the kind of sketchy company that one keeps. Merlin knows what kind of curses she might blast at you..."

"Oh, shove off!" Ginny growled. "She hardly keeps Malfoy as company. She was drunk—"

"So she was drinking with him?" Imogene Fortescue cut in. "How...interesting."

"Not with him." Ginny's argument was failing. "I'm sure you've been drunk in public before, Imogene, so if you'd get off your high broomstick, I'd appreciate it."

"I've been drunk a lot of times, but I've never ended up in a photograph with a war criminal," Imogene purred. She lifted her drink to her lips and took a dramatic sip.

Hermione could not listen anymore. Feeling rather dizzy, she set her goblet on a passing tray and said, "Well, it was nice to visit with everyone, but if you'll all excuse me, I have a paper to proofread." She cleared her throat and fixed the sagging neckline of her dress. "I'll see you later, Gin."

Then, without so much as thanking the professor, she stormed out of the extravagant room.