Hermione approached the Diggory Holiday Party as if she was getting ready for battle.

Her robes were chosen with deliberate care – a new set of cashmere blush-colored 'robes' with delicate rose embroidery around the neckline, to better set off the jewelry she wore. They were cut a bit lower than she was usually comfortable with, but Hermione was determined to look as mature and adult as possible for this. She did take care to jinx part of the robes to stick to her bra, though – the last thing she wanted was people glimpsing her underwear when she was trying to be dignified.

Her hair, too, was given a careful look-over. Her cursed curls still looked new and pretty, chaotic though they were, and after much deliberation, Hermione resolved to just leave it down. She didn't know exactly how to style her hair like this, anyway, and she figured it was different enough from her usual appearance that it would look fancy and like she'd made an effort.

She did her makeup with care, accentuating her features to flatter them as best she could. Uneven skin became flawless. Her eyes were shaded with neutral shades to look deeper and bigger. Eyeliner on her top outer waterline and a bit of mascara made her gaze look more intense. And if her eyebrows ended up a little more dramatic than usual, a little more intimidating… well, that was a slip of the brush, and it'd be hardly noticeable, really.

Her parents had been quietly supportive as Hermione went about preparing herself for the party, exchanging meaningful looks with each other as Hermione raced around, trying to get everything done. Hermione ignored them – she didn't care if they thought she was overreacting. This party was a big deal, whether or not they realized or understood.

As Hermione finished getting ready, she hit upon an unexpected problem.

"Where am I supposed to put my wand?" she asked her parents, gesturing to her robes. "My usual holster doesn't exactly go with any of this."

Hermione's mother looked up. "Do you have any fancy holsters?"

"Not really," Hermione said. "I have a couple others, but they're all more intense and combat-looking. They're not exactly… feminine."

Her father blinked. "Can you just tuck your wand into your belt directly?"

"That's an excellent way to break your wand or unintentionally jinx off your rear," Hermione said dryly. "No, Dad. It's not safe."

"Well," her mother said reasonably. "What do people usually do with their wands for such parties?"

Hermione blinked. "Err…"

Honestly, she had no idea. Casting her mind back, Hermione pondered, trying to remember to various times she'd been in front of fancy purebloods, and where they'd kept their wands.

Lucius Malfoy kept his in his fancy walking stick, Hermione knew; it was ostentatious enough to be memorable, and Hermione had needed to fight back snickers when she first realized it – it seemed like a paltry imitation of a sword cane, and his wand wasn't long enough to truly be dramatic when he pulled it out like a blade was. Narcissa Malfoy, Hermione thought, kept hers in a black velvet holster on her belt at the Wizengamot, and Hermione thought she'd had a matching ice blue wand holster as well when she'd glimpsed her at the Lestranges'.

Phaedra Lestrange herself, though… where had she kept her wand?

Phaedra's robes, the last time Hermione had been in her parlor, had been excessively fancy and very low-cut. She hadn't worn a belt, either, and there had been no pockets in them that Hermione could see, as the lines of the robes had been smooth against her legs all the way down. So then… where?

Had she just… not had her wand?

It was possible, Hermione mused. It was her house, after all – she was probably safe to keep it on a nearby side table or something and grab it only when it was needed.

But for a party, though… was Hermione genuinely expected not to take her wand?

She probably wasn't, she reflected, especially since she was underage. Taking it would be odder than not taking it, given she wasn't supposed to be using it at home, she supposed, and Mr. Diggory, who worked at the Ministry, seemed like the type of parent to respect that type of silly rule.

With great reluctance, Hermione went back upstairs put her wand on her nightstand for safe keeping. She gave it a longing look before giving herself a last once-over in the mirror. At least she wouldn't have to try and find a matching belt, now, to wear her holster on – the robes looked better without a belt, cut as dramatically as they were. And she'd be safe, really – if something terrible happened, she had control over three elements now, so she'd be able to protect herself.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione marched down the stairs to face her parents once more.

"I'm ready," she declared.

Her parents looked her up and down. Her father looked like he was trying (and failing) to suppress his amusement at her determination, but her mother looked proud.

"You look lovely, dear," she said. "Do you have your hostess gift for the Diggorys?"

Hermione's eyes went wide, and she hurried to the dining room, sweeping up a pine wreath she'd gone out and purchased earlier and hurrying back.

"Got it!" she said, holding it aloft.

"Very good," her mother hummed. "Don't stay out too late, okay?"

"How late is too late?" Hermione asked, biting her lip. "I don't know how late these things generally run."

"If you're going to be after half past ten, at least Floo home and let us know," her mother compromised. "Fair?"

"Fair." Hermione took a deep breath, picking up the invitation from the table. "I'll—I'll see you later then, I guess?"

"Have fun," her mother urged her. "Try and have a good time."

Girding her loins, Hermione took a handful of Floo powder, throwing it into the fireplace, and the flames turned emerald green with a loud woosh. Ducking under the mantel, Hermione stepped into the fireplace, tucking her elbows in.

"Diggory Household!" Hermione cried out, and with another woosh, she was gone.

Mrs. Diggory ("Just call me Deirdre, dear") was a perfectly lovely woman who made Hermione feel welcome immediately upon entering her home. She expressed her pleasure over Hermione's company with a genuine smile, thanked her for her gift, and invited her to enjoy the festivities. Hermione was impressed with her hostessing skills despite herself, and she wandered into the party to attempt to circulate and mingle.

Most people present were people Hermione didn't know – Ministry wizards who worked with Mr. Diggory, Hermione suspected, or friends of Mrs. Diggory. There were a few people who looked younger, but they mostly looked like they'd come along with their parents.

"Hermione!"

Hermione turned to see Luna bound over to her, star earrings bobbing. Hermione relaxed a bit and grinned.

"I'm glad to see you, Luna," she admitted. "I feel far out of my depth here, you know?"

"You're not," Luna dismissed. "All these people like to pretend they're important and do important things, but they're not and they don't, not really." Luna fixed her with a sly look. "You do important things for real, though."

Hermione laughed nervously. "Not really that I can tell any of these people, though."

Luna shrugged carelessly. "Does that matter?"

Hermione mused. "No. I suppose not."

They shared a small smile, before Luna's eyes went very wide. Hermione gave her a look of concern, but Luna gestured at her neck.

"That's new," she commented. She looked up at her. "Gift from Cedric?"

Hermione held back a wince. "Yes."

Luna looked at her carefully. "And you put it on?"

"I didn't really feel like I had a choice not to that wouldn't turn out badly," Hermione said, defensive. "If I didn't put it on, I'd become the callous witch who broke the Hufflepuff prince's heart without even giving him a chance."

Luna smirked. "And you think this won't turn out badly?"

"Oh, hush," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "I suppose I'll find out one way or another."

Luna laughed, and Hermione managed a wry smile.

The occasion one of the rare ones where Luna was not alone, Luna pulled Hermione over to meet her father, who Hermione was curious to meet. Mr. Lovegood was very thin and eccentric-looking, with blond hair like candy floss that hung to his shoulders. His holiday robes were a crushed burgundy velvet, which clashed horribly with his pale skin and hair.

"Father, may I present my dear friend and upcoming sorceress, Hermione Granger?" Luna said, brightly. "Hermione, may I present my father, owner and Editor in Chief of The Quibbler, Xenophilius Lovegood?"

Hermione choked even as she curtsied.

"You never told me your father owned the Quibbler," Hermione hissed at Luna.

Luna's eyes sparkled. "It must have slipped my mind."

As Hermione stood again, to her astonishment, Luna's father curtsied back at her, without a flicker of jest in his eye.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Hermione," he said sincerely, straightening once again. "My Luna speaks about you often. I have heard much about you."

"All good things, I hope," Hermione said with a smile.

"I think that would depend on your individual definition of 'good'," Xenophilius said seriously. "If you define 'good' in terms of 'what is good under the law' or 'what is morally right and just', the answer differs. But is goodness really what people should strive for in life? Or is there something more than the 'good' we should serve?"

"Err—" Hermione faltered. "Umm. Well, it's a pleasure to finally meet you, but I should go find Cedric and thank him for inviting me."

"You should," Xenophilius agreed, nodding very seriously. "Social norms and customs are very important to many people, regardless of how objectively silly might be, and oftentimes being polite can get a person farther in life than being correct or right."

"…right," Hermione said, eyes wide. "Well. Happy Christmas!"

She excused herself and departed quickly for the other side of the room. When Luna's father was looking the other way, Hermione met Luna's eyes and gave her an incredulous look, but Luna only smiled, shrugging to herself.

Well. That helped explain where Luna got some of her oddity, Hermione mused.

"…Hermione?" A tentative voice came from behind her.

Hermione turned.

Cedric was wearing very formal dress robes, a dark gold that reminded her of the sun setting in late summer. They were very well tailored, and he had done something different to his hair – styled it, somehow? He looked very sharp and very well-put together, even if his eyes were wide and he looked somewhat stunned.

That helped, actually, Hermione mused to herself as she gave him a small smile. Sometimes she forgot how incredibly handsome and flustering Cedric could be; him looking dumbstruck at her with a stupid expression on his face helped her hide her own self-consciousness.

At her smile, Cedric took several strides forward, and was in front of her in seconds.

"I didn't think you'd come," he murmured, lifting her hand to his lips, his eyes holding hers. "I'd hoped, but…" He trailed off, his eyes drinking her in. "And you wore it. You wore it…"

Hermione felt her hackles rise, immediately defensive. If he hadn't wanted her to wear it, why'd he send her the blasted thing? She managed to hold back most of her response, merely raising her eyebrows. "Did you think I wouldn't? That I'd eschew you at your own party?"

"No," Cedric denied. "No, it wasn't that—it was just—I thought the first time you might would be at school, in front of our peers—not here, in front of everybody…"

Hermione frowned. She knew there were rules and customs around giving jewelry as a gift, which she had respected. If there were rules for where to wear gift-given jewelry, though, she was unaware of them. "My classmates are all Slytherins, with their parents as far up in society as you could practically go."

"That's not what I meant," Cedric said, trying to find the right words. "It's—well, it doesn't matter. You're here now, wearing it." He looked at her again, his eyes soft. "Shall I introduce you around?"

He offered her his arm, which Hermione took. "Thanks."

To her surprise, Cedric escorted her away from the parlor and the dining room into a back room, one that had a pool table and several squashy chairs. There were more people here that looked her age, wearing assorted styles of dress robes, and they all looked up at Cedric when he entered.

"Gone and found yourself a new bird, Diggory?" one of the boys remarked, smirking. "Or did you finally catch the one you've been after?"

Cedric shot him a sharp look.

"Friends, I'd like to present Hermione Granger," he said, bowing to them slightly. "This Christmas, she's decided to accept my suit."

There was a surprised murmuring from the assembled teens as Hermione swept them her finest curtsy. Several of the boys shot Cedric sharp looks, which he ignored.

"Hermione, these are some of my fellow Hufflepuffs," he told her. "May I present Benjamin McEwen, Hamish Knighton, Matthew Kettletoft, Bernard Maltby, and Madeline Ormskirk?"

Each person indicated bowed in turn, save Madeline, who gave a small curtsy back.

"It's a pleasure to meet you all," Hermione said, minding her manners. "Are you all in Cedric's year?"

The Hufflepuffs exchanged glances.

"Mostly," said Matthew with an easy smile. "Hamish is a year over us, but we don't hold it against him none too often."

"Hey!" Hamish objected, laughing. "You'd be in trouble, without my notes to help with your O.W.L.s!"

Ben was still looking Hermione over with an amused look on his face.

"So," he said, taking a step towards Hermione. "You the bird Cedric's been after?"

Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"That depends," she said sweetly. "Were you under the impression he was after a songbird or a hawk?"

Ben reared back and laughed.

"She is your little Slytherin, isn't she?" he said to Cedric, grinning. He gave Hermione a wink. "Well met, then. We've heard all about you."

Hermione glanced up at Cedric, whose face had reddened.

"They've heard some about you," he said. "It's not like I tell them everything—"

"You're the first one to really hook our Cedric here," Madeline said, looking at Hermione curiously. "Everyone else, he's just dated, really. Never thought he'd cave to tradition and court a witch, Slytherin pureblood or not." She gave her a quirked smile. "He must really like you."

Hermione blinked.

"I suppose he must," she said finally, settling on a safe, non-committal answer. Madeline nodded, pleased, and the boy she was nearest to elbowed her.

"Oi, it's your shot," he reminded her. "Or do you want me to step in?"

The teens resumed the game of pool they were playing before Cedric had come in, the players waiting their turns making small talk with Hermione and Cedric.

"You're a third year?" Hamish asked. "Is that right?"

"That's right," Hermione said. "I turned fourteen in September."

"Oh, I'm not worried about your age," he said cheerily. "Just curious, really. Terrible character flaw. But I was curious if you'd be expecting Cedric to abandon you shortly after the holiday's over – with O.W.L.s coming up, you won't be seeing much of him, I reckon."

Hermione glanced at Cedric.

"I tend to study and review class material with Cedric in the library fairly regularly," she said. "But if Cedric needs independent study time to review, I of course would be perfectly understanding and amicable. I wholeheartedly respect people's academic and scholastic needs."

The one called Bernard started snickering.

"Wholeheartedly respect people's academic and scholastic needs," he mimicked. "Christ, Cedric, where'd you meet her? She's even more swotty than you."

"Don't," Cedric said, his voice holding a warning note of danger. "Just because you don't take your studies seriously—"

"You study with him? The fifth-year material?" Hamish looked surprised. "As a third year?"

"I do," Hermione said, holding her chin up. "Is that a problem?"

"No, not at all," Hamish assured her. "I mean, a good grounding in theory is solid foundation toward—"

"We practice new Charms and Transfigurations in the old Charms classroom once or twice a month," Hermione said sweetly. "After all, one cannot rely on theory alone."

Hamish paused, then turned abruptly to Cedric.

"Are you telling me," he said, "that this little girl here can cast 5th year O.W.L. level material?"

Little girl? Hermione reared back, insulted.

"Why?" Cedric smirked, looking smug. "Does that intimidate you?"

"Not at all," Hamish said. "I just—it's a bit hard to believe."

Hermione felt her hackles rise. She'd just met these people, and already they thought she was lying? Just because she was a Slytherin?

"We should test her," Bernard suggested, eyes gleaming. "Make her show us her stuff."

"We can't," Madeline said, warningly. "No wands at home, remember? And with Mr. Diggory and his entire department in the other room—"

Inspiration struck Hermione as she looked at the stick in Madeline's hands.

"How about this?" she said, sauntering over to the pool table and taking a cue stick. "If I beat you in pool, you accept that I'm good at anything I set my mind to, and then you shut up, yeah?"

Ben looked highly suspicious.

"We play without wands, little snake," he warned her. "You going to play by our rules?"

Hermione gave him a sweet smile. "I didn't even bring my wand to the party."

"I'll take that bet," Bernard piped up. He grinned, mischievous. "I'm curious to see how you intend to beat me. I'm quite good."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "You can't win if I never let you have a turn."

There was an astonished silence, before several of the boys began to laugh. One of them set about resetting the table, getting out the triangle while another boy helped him rack the balls.

"Alright then, Slytherin," Ben said, snickering. "Show us what you've got."

Cedric turned to Hermione, his eyes wide.

"Hermione, you don't need to do this," he told her. His eyes implored hers. "I—I admit I've spoken highly of you to them, but please, don't feel like you need to prove anything to them—"

"I know I don't need to do this," Hermione said mildly, straightening the neckline of Cedric's robes. "I want to, though."

"Want to? It's a ridiculous challenge, Hermione," Cedric said, somewhat flustered. "And Bernard's very good – he wasn't lying—"

"Your concern for me is very sweet," Hermione said. She went up on her tip toes to press a kiss to his cheek. "But have a little more faith in me, Cedric." She took a step back from him, holding his eyes. "Or do you think Slytherins readily make bets they're not prepared to win?"

Cedric looked like he wanted to protest again, but he fell back, silent, a worried expression on his face. Hermione turned to the pool table, examining it carefully, before she took a cue stick and the chalk.

"Now," she said, chalking the tip. "I want someone to tell me the rules. I don't want anyone claiming I cheated afterwards because I broke some rule I wasn't aware of."

Ben and Bernard glanced at each other.

"It's just pool," Bernard said, shrugging. "No wands to put spells on the balls."

"And the balls have to roll on the table," Ben added. "You can't just wandlessly levitate balls into the pockets."

Bernard shot him a look. "She's a third-year. She'd not going to be able to do wandless magic."

"Hey, she wanted to know all the rules," Ben defended. "That's an important one to add."

"Any other rules regarding the use of magic?" Hermione asked, moving the cueball into place. "Once we start, no more adding on rules that you 'forgot'."

"No interfering with the other person's turn," Madeline added helpfully. "Like, no cursing their shoes to slip, no making the cue ball sticky, that sort of thing. But that's it. Anything else goes."

"So magic is allowed?" Hermione clarified.

"Bernard wouldn't win half as much if it wasn't," said Matthew, folding his arms. "He's got wandless Banishment down – helps him give the cue ball unnatural speed."

"Matthew, how could you?" Bernard spread his arms widely, grinning. "Giving away all my secrets like that…"

Matthew rolled his eyes. "It's not a secret if you do it all the time."

"Nothing else?" Hermione asked again. "No other rules?"

"That's it," Madeline said, shrugging. She glanced at Cedric. "Good luck."

"Thanks," Hermione said, stepping up to the edge and lining up her first shot, "but I won't be needing luck today."