Chapter 3 – The Mixer
"Why don't we have a mixer?" Hermione suggested.
"A what?" Ron was baffled.
"It's a kind of party where everyone mingles and gets to know each other. If nothing else, it will break the ice."
Harry sighed. "I guess it couldn't hurt. I was planning to send a letter, but I don't know what to say."
"Where will we have it?" Ron inquired.
"The Ministry. It's the least they can do, after what they've let us in for. We all must go in to sign marriage contracts anyway, so the mixer will be convenient. Nothing too formal, just casual and…fun."
"I'm not going," Astoria insisted.
"Suit yourself," Daphne said. "Meet your husband on the day of the wedding, why not?"
"Right." Astoria deflated. "So, what do we wear to this…thing?"
"Muggle dresses," Daphne declared. "I wrote to Hermione Granger, and…"
"The Know-It-All? Why her?"
"Don't call her that in front of anyone else," warned Daphne. "Anyway I had a few classes with her, and she was nice enough. She offered to take us shopping, so…"
"I don't want to. I'm wearing dress robes."
"Suit yourself," Daphne repeated.
Astoria sighed. "Where are we meeting Granger?"
"Remember to call her Hermione," Daphne reminded her sister.
"What is that thing?" A fascinated Astoria studied the mannequin.
"A jumpsuit," Hermione explained. "You like it?"
"Um, I'm not sure."
"I like this dress," Daphne breathed. It was bright red, with long sleeves but a short flared skirt, and she couldn't wait to try it on.
To her delight, it fit like a glove.
Hermione chose a floral wrap dress, and Astoria, after long deliberation, opted for the light blue jumpsuit.
"Should I wear my hair up?" Daphne asked anxiously.
"Leave it down, it's gorgeous," Hermione advised, admiring Daphne's luxuriant butterscotch blonde hair. "Mine is impossible unless I treat it with Sleek-eazy."
"I'm wearing mine in a French braid," Astoria declared. "It's a bit darker than Daphne's but it's just as long."
The Ministry was thronged, and Daphne looked in vain for Hermione.
"Since when did Gra…er, Hermione, become your best friend?" Astoria queried.
"It's just that she's the only Gryffindor I really know," confessed Daphne.
Tracey Davis bounded up to them. "Ready to track down the Chosen One?"
Daphne felt an inward shrinking. Despite her reputation as a snobbish, distant pureblood princess, she was actually quite shy.
The same could not be said for Tracey, who seized Daphne's arm and hauled her through the crowd.
"Saw a batch of Weasley red over that way. Where there's one, there's usually more."
Daphne allowed herself to be towed along, but wished Tracey wouldn't act so eager. She knew her friend was pleased about her pairing with George Weasley, but it seemed a bit insensitive. The Weasleys might be irked about having to intermarry with Slytherins, even though neither the Greengrass nor the Davis family had joined the Death Eaters.
Astoria trailed reluctantly after them.
Tracey stopped abruptly, causing Daphne to stumble.
A quick hand on her arm steadied her, and she looked up to smile her thanks at Harry Potter.
"All right?"
"Yes. I'm not usually so clumsy," Daphne managed.
She turned to see what was the matter with Tracey and saw her staring at George Weasley and Angelina Johnson, who were …arguing?
Yes, it was an argument, but with a passionate intensity that gave pause.
Harry followed her gaze. "Er, George and Angelina have been spending a lot of time together, ever since Fred died, and…"
"And they don't want anyone coming between them," Daphne nodded.
He didn't deny it, and Daphne felt sorry for Tracey, who'd had such high hopes for the betrothal.
"Who was Angelina matched with?"
Harry grimaced. "Miles Bletchley."
Daphne remembered Miles, an arrogant Slytherin member of the Quidditch team, who never failed to join with Flint's blatant cheating to win.
She tried to think of something positive to say about him.
"Well, at least they both like Quidditch."
Harry stared at her, then started to laugh.
"Thought I'd meet you here." Theodore Nott smirked at a morose Draco Malfoy.
"Have you met the future Mrs. Malfoy yet?"
"I already know her. Quidditch, remember?"
"So how come you're moping in this corner by yourself?" Theo took a sip of his wine.
"I'm not by myself. You're here! And, why are you not moping?" Draco snapped.
"Because I'm planning to discover a loophole in this marriage law."
Draco snorted. "Good luck! My father and I both tried, there's to be no exceptions! I'm stuck with Katie Bell, and you're stuck with Hannah Abbott."
"I don't accept that!" Theo's eyes narrowed. "I'm not about to trade Daphne Greengrass for Hannah Abbott, no matter what the Ministry says!"