Blaise arrived promptly via Floo at six o'clock the following evening. Hermione met him at the fireplace, his body practically vibrating with excitement.
"Do you have any idea how excited I am?" he told her immediately upon arrival, his eyes alight. "My mother was aghast at me needing to find muggle clothes—I was lucky I was able to find anything today at all, only one place in Diagon Alley has anything—but look how strange I look!"
He twirled around in front of her, laughing. His cloak was wizarding, clearly, but would blend in well enough as a long jacket outside. Underneath he seemed to be just be wearing a nice black jumper and black denims.
"What's so funny?" Hermione asked, frowning. "You look fine."
Blaise stopped spinning and looked at her incredulously.
"What's so funny—? Hermione, look."
He lifted one leg, grabbing his thigh.
"Do you see how tight these are?" he said. "I can't believe that these are appropriate! How do muggles even move in these?"
"They move with you," Hermione told him, smiling. "And jeans can be cut loose or tight. Mine are even tighter than yours, I'd wager."
Blaise scoffed. "Really?"
Hermione took off her cloak and set it aside, twirling in front of Blaise herself with a laugh. She was wearing a soft, rose-colored sweater with a V-cut in the front and a pair of dark wash jeans.
"See? They stretch," Hermione said, lifting a leg and bending a knee. "Besides. You look good in them. You don't look strange at all."
Blaise appeared momentarily baffled.
"This is—this is what muggles wear to the theater?" he asked. "Really?"
"We're only going to the community playhouse," she told him. "It's not super fancy, not like the opera or anything."
"But… you're in trousers," Blaise said.
"Yes," said Hermione.
"That's—that's appropriate?"
"Yes, Blaise," Hermione sighed, folding her arms. "In the muggle world, women wear slacks too."
"Ones that are this tight?" His eyes were wide.
Hermione briefly wondered if Blaise would have a heart attack upon seeing the kinds of things muggles wore in the summer.
"Hermione, is that Blaise?" her mother's voice came from the other room. "We need to get ready to leave."
"Yes, mum!" Hermione called back. She turned to Blaise. "Come on, let's go."
Hermione hurried to the entryway, where her parents were putting on their coats and gloves.
"Mum, Dad, this is Blaise Zabini," Hermione said. She paused, turning to Blaise. "Ah—Blaise, may I present my mother, Dr. Jean Granger, and my father, Dr. Richard Granger?"
Blaise swept them a low bow. "I am honored to make your acquaintance, Dr. and Dr. Granger. It is a pleasure to finally meet you."
Hermione watched her mother and father exchange an amused look.
"The pleasure is all ours, I assure you," her mother said, and Blaise stood. "We're excited Hermione's made a friend she wants to bring along."
Blaise looked intrigued. "Has she never brought a friend along before?"
"No," her father laughed. "Hermione didn't have many friends in primary school, and the playhouse was under renovation last year, so we didn't go."
"We usually go to see A Christmas Carol every year," her mother explained, buttoning her coat. "It's a family tradition."
"But I'm the first companion she's brought along?" Blaise looked smug, and Hermione elbowed him.
"Don't get a big head about it, or I'll ask Tracey next time," she snapped, but Blaise just laughed and grinned.
Once they were all settled into the car and on their way, Hermione was amused to watch Blaise's astonishment and eyes as he watched the other cars and lights out the window, rapt.
"This is mad," he breathed. "How do they make the lights so bright?"
"They run off of a different kind of energy," Hermione told him. "Not candles."
"And those ones are colored—!"
"That's called neon."
When they arrived at the playhouse, Blaise watched with wide eyes at everyone else entering the clubhouse.
"There's so many of them," he breathed.
"The muggle world is much bigger than the wizarding one," Hermione reminded him. "By a large magnitude."
Blaise nodded absently. He seemed to be watching people carefully as they went in while her parents fussed with fixing their coats and locking the car.
"How does this work?" he asked her finally.
Hermione glanced over. "How does what work?"
Blaise gestured. "Some people are just going in. But some people, the woman's arm is wrapped around the man's. But still others are holding hands."
Hermione blinked. "And…?"
"Which one means what?" Blaise asked. "I don't know the social customs here."
"Oh." Hermione thought. "I… err…"
Put on the spot, it was hard to define, she realized. Anyone would walk in with each other, but for the others…
"Anyone can just walk in together," she said. "Generally, with a close companion, the woman might link her arm with the man's."
"Like a proper escort?" Blaise queried.
"Exactly." Hermione nodded. "Holding hands is more… err…"
"It's more intimate," her mother said, stepping up behind them. "Are you two ready to go in?"
"Ah, yes ma'am," Blaise said quickly, bowing slightly. "My apologies for the delay."
"It's quite alright." Her mother shot Hermione an amused look at her friend's fancy manners and Hermione flushed. "Let's go."
Her mother and father led the way, and Hermione watched as Blaise watched as her mother wove her arm through her father's, holding it as they went in the theater together. He glanced over at her, before extending his arm.
"Like this?" he asked, his tone hopeful, and Hermione laughed.
"Just like at Hogwarts," she said, taking his arm as he escorted her into the building.
"Not quite like at Hogwarts," Blaise pointed out. "You'd only escort someone like this to indicate an interest or courting intention in the wizarding world."
Hermione's eyes sparkled. "And what makes you think it's any different here?"
Blaise stumbled at that, and Hermione laughed.
"I'm teasing, I'm teasing!"
"Are you?" Blaise shot back, but he was grinning wickedly. "Making me think I was making a public courting declaration—"
"We're in the muggle world – they don't do that anymore, here."
"Wait, they what? How?"
Hermione ended up having to explain the basics of muggle dating customs as they found their seats, Blaise listening in.
"So no one just knows?" he repeated. "You have to ask?"
"The muggle world is too large for people to just know who's making what gesture to whom in society at any given time," she explained. "Besides, it's not uncommon to date more than one person at a time here."
"Really?"
Hermione shrugged. "It's up to each couple. Generally, when people get serious, they'll only date each other, but I know some women continue to date multiple people until they get a ring."
"A ring?"
"An engagement ring," Hermione clarified. "It indicates the couple intends to get married."
Blaise nodded, satisfied.
"A gift of bright jewelry," he said. "At least that's the same."
A gift of jewelry in the wizarding world was a statement of an intent to court a person with the end goal of a betrothal, Hermione knew, but she didn't realize there was a difference in jewelry between indicating an intent to court and indicating formally betrothed.
Blaise was looking sneaky, and Hermione made a mental note to ask Tracey or Millie. She didn't want Blaise getting any ideas – he'd already seemed to let 'being her companion' go right to his head.
"But the ghosts—!"
Blaise was laughing hysterically, bent over at the waist. Hermione watched him in annoyance, arms folded in impatience, while her parents watched on in amusement.
"It's cold, Blaise," Hermione said. "Can we please get to the car?"
"I can't! I can't breathe! Give me a moment—"
Hermione rolled her eyes as Blaise gradually got ahold of himself, before they finally went to the car.
"Is that really what muggles think ghosts are like?" Blaise asked, snickering. "All rattling chains or giant reapers of doom?"
"Nobody really knows what ghosts look like," Hermione said, "so they imagine. Muggles can't see ghosts, Blaise, so how would they have any idea?"
Blaise just grinned, undeterred.
"So do they really think ghosts can take you back through time?" he wanted to know, trying to buckle his seatbelt. "Can all ghosts in muggle culture do that, or just the Christmas ghosts?"
"That's just a literary device in this play," her mother told him. "Most ghosts in muggle culture just hang around after they've died, unable to move on."
"Really?" Blaise mused. "That's about the same as with us, really."
Her father glanced back at him in the rearview mirror. "Is it?"
"Well, yeah," Blaise said, shrugging. "None of them ever talk about it directly when you ask them, but you can kind of tell that there's some kind of choice they face, when they decide to move on or not. It's mostly people who died unexpectedly or violently that linger, though, so I'm not sure why the man with the holly would have hung around."
"I think they were special ghosts," Hermione said. "Like, ones given a special mission who could visit from the afterlife once a year."
"That might make sense. It would explain what he was wearing…"
Hermione could see her mother and father exchanging heavy glances in the front seat, but she hadn't the slightest idea as to why.
"Did Scrooge remind you of anyone?" Blaise asked Hermione, his eyes still alight. "He was like a cross between Snape and Filch!"
"Oh please," Hermione laughed. "Snape? Snape would have just looked down his nose at the Ghost of Christmas Past and scoffed, and she'd have scurried away in fear."
"Fair," Blaise snickered. "Who, then?"
"Maybe a cross between Filch and a goblin? Can you imagine what Filch would be like with a goblin's greed…?"
They chatted happily all the way home, Blaise going over and over parts of the play with Hermione.
"It wasn't even that different, though," he mused. "They celebrated Christmas nearly the exactly same way."
"What did you imagine?" Hermione said, laughing.
Blaise shrugged. "I'd heard muggle Christmas was like a revel, practically, with lots of drinking and setting of fires. Malfoy says that the muggles would demand the best food and drink from the lords of the land, and if the lords failed to comply, they'd terrorize them."
"That…. That hasn't been done in several hundred years," Hermione said, incredulous. She looked at Blaise curiously. "Do purebloods really think muggles are still like that?"
"I mean, I kind of did," Blaise admitted. "It's not like we interact with the muggle world much, is it? So it makes sense if the information is kind of outdated. My mum made me promise to avoid all the rats and fleas I would see, even though I didn't see any tonight."
"What, to avoid the plague?" Hermione was aghast. "Has no one ever taken Muggle Studies? What do they teach, if that's what people actually think?"
Blaise shrugged. "No idea. We can't take that until 3rd year anyway, you know."
By the time they got home, Hermione was sleepy and Blaise's excitement was finally wearing off. Hermione's mother helped her out of the car, while her father helped Blaise stumble out.
As he paused by the fireplace, ready to Floo home, Blaise looked at Hermione.
"That was one of the craziest, best experiences I've ever had," he told her honestly, with a tired grin. "Thank you, Hermione, for inviting me to accompany you. The experience was a lovely gift."
His smile was happy and honest, without the teasing tilt it usually had, and before she realized she was, Hermione had stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him.
"It was my pleasure," she murmured, hugging Blaise tight. "Thank you for coming. It was more fun with you there."
Blaise seemed startled, but his arms came up slowly to hug Hermione back.
"It was brilliant," he said honestly. "I'd love to go again."
He gave her a small, almost shy smile as Hermione pulled back, his cheeks flushed.
"I better get home though, or my mum will go mad," he said, reluctant. He rolled his eyes. "Can you imagine, her storming into a muggle house demanding to know who was holding me captive?"
Hermione laughed as Blaise grinned at her, and he threw the Floo powder into the fire, the flames turning emerald green with a whoosh of heat.
"I'll see you at school," Hermione bid him, smiling.
"You had better," Blaise said, smirking. "Take care!"
He crouched and stepped into the fireplace, and with a cry of "Zabini Villa!", he disappeared.
Hermione watched the fireplace for a few moments more, watching as the flames turned back from green to yellow, before dragging herself into the dining room, where her parents were enjoying a quiet drink.
"Thank you for letting me bring a friend," she said, her words slurring slightly in her fatigue. "He said he had a really good time."
"It was our pleasure, Hermione," her mother told her, giving her a soft smile. "You look exhausted. Why don't you go on up to bed?"
Hermione nodded and yawned, making her way up the stairs, hearing her parents resume their murmured conversation behind her. She couldn't make out what they were saying, but they had seemed to like Blaise despite his oddness, so she couldn't bring herself to worry about it now. She managed to levitate her bed and bookshelf for a full seven minutes before they thudded back down to the earth, and she finally put her wand away for the night, mind still dancing with the play and Blaise and his surprised delight over muggle things.
All in all, she thought, undressing and falling into bed, I think that's one of my favorite holiday memories yet.