Hermione smoothed down the skirt of her dress with her hands, contemplating her reflection. It had been a very long time since she had picked out a pretty dress to wear. Back in her Hogwarts days, she hadn't cared much about clothes on a day-to-day basis. She hadn't wanted to spare the mental energy on it, as long as she was comfortable and looked reasonably presentable. But when those rare special nights arrived when a dress was called for, she went all in. Hermione wasn't one to do things halfway. And the end result always gave her a little thrill, like a little girl playing dress up. For tonight, she had picked up a simple satin dress in dusky pink. She and Ginny had found it during a whirlwind shopping spree in Muggle London. She supposed it was a pretty dress, but she felt a weird urge to shove on her jeans underneath it. She felt exposed in a way she never had before. She wasn't sure if it had something to do with the war and her scars, or the fallout of her own little romantic skirmishes. She didn't feel like unravelling that mess tonight, so she just breathed and let the anxious feeling settle down to a low buzz. She put on leather boots over her stockings, which helped. After being forced to Apparate and run around in high heels after Fleur's disastrous wedding, she had a strong aversion to heels. There was only so much that cushioning charms could handle, and she had put up with blisters for weeks. She didn't anticipate a need for running tonight, but it never hurt to be prepared for anything.

They were off to a party at Longbottom Manor thrown by Luna. There was going to be a fancy ball at the Ministry of Magic in a few weeks, to celebrate their refurbished atrium, with a new memorial for those fallen in the war. Luna had decided they needed some practice before facing the masses, and she had liberally sent out invitations to everyone from the upper years of Hogwarts. Though it seemed a bit silly, Hermione couldn't argue against Luna's logic. She was getting better, but it was still a good day when she could walk through Hogsmeade without the urge to draw her wand at a sudden noise. And she was one of the 'well-adjusted' ones of their group. Some of the faces she had seen at Hogwarts for the N.E. had looked haunted and withdrawn. She had silently vowed to try and do something about that, and here was her chance. She could set a good example, she could whisper a few kind words. It wasn't much, but it was something.

Hermione arrived early, when only the inhabitants of Longbottom Manor and various Weasleys were around. Hermione had left ahead of Harry and Ginny, as it seemed they were starting their own festivities early and had forgotten to use a silencing charm. She was looking around for Luna when she saw Ron flagging her down. It was her first encounter with him since the news broke of her affair with Malfoy, and she had been dreading a big scene.

'Will you dance with me?' Ron asked, as she blinked in shock. 'I'm a bit rusty, and I could use some practice without witnesses.'

She agreed, and they moved into the adjoining room for privacy. He put an arm on her shoulder and waist, and she gently corrected his posture. She outlined the steps of a waltz for him a few times and then nudged him to try leading. He stared down at his feet for a few seconds, but afterwards he danced quite easily. He seemed to have improved since their last dance about a year ago.

'So, you and Malfoy,' Ron said in a casual-not-casual tone.

Hermione sighed. 'It wasn't as sordid as the papers made out. And it's over now. We ended things after the N.E. .'

Ron narrowed his eyes. 'He wasn't using you for your brain, was he?'

Hermione fought the urge to point out the hypocrisy of that question, bearing in mind that Ron hadn't once asked for her help with his N.E.W.T studies this time around. 'No, we never studied together. I did most of my studying with Theodore, Luna and Neville.'

They kept dancing, but from the contortions of Ron's face she knew he wasn't finished.

'Was it like it was with us?' he blurted out. 'The fighting and then the making up, blushing and dancing around each other until it all came out with that kiss during the battle…' He sounded wistful.

'No,' Hermione said. 'It will never be like that with anyone else. We grew up together as best friends, and we spent half of our time racing into danger and the other half hanging out in the common room. That was a pretty unique situation.'

Hermione saw that he was looking away, and she touched his cheek to turn his head towards hers. 'You were my first love. No one will ever replace you.'

They went back to dancing, and she pretended not to notice that his eyes were a little damp. Hers were too.

Ron stopped moving abruptly. He gestured towards the door. 'It sounds like the party's started without us. We should join in.'

'We should,' she agreed. Neither of them moved towards the door.

'Just say the word if you ever need someone to punch that ferret for you. It would be fun. But then we both know you can handle that yourself.'

'Yes,' she agreed, with a fond smile for the first and only punch she had ever thrown.

They walked back into the ballroom and split up, going their separate ways. Ron made a beeline for Harry, and Hermione went to catch up with Parvati. Hermione spent ten minutes chatting with Parvati about beauty spells in excruciating detail. She could tell that Parvati was feeling twitchy, so Hermione humoured her despite her intense boredom. Eventually Padma showed up and Parvati let out a visible sigh of relief at the sight of her twin. Hermione was rewarded by the first hug they had ever shared despite spending years as roommates. Hermione was surprised by the amount of people that wanted to talk with her. She had never been Miss Popular at Hogwarts. But Dean wanted to pour his heart out to her about the way his Muggle mother couldn't understand what he'd been through in the war. In turn, she had told him that the Grangers had no memory of ever having a daughter. It was painful, but she felt a little lighter afterwards. It seemed she was destined to be a little teary tonight.

She was even approached by a few Slytherins. Marcus Flint had expressed his regrets over Snape's death with sincerity and she had shaken his hand. Adrian Pucey had wanted an introduction to Kingsley Shacklebolt, and she had brushed him off briskly. The encounters had been about what she had expected. She and Theodore had sat down while he had gone through a long list of Slytherins that might approach her, and how he thought they would treat her. He had been entirely right so far.

She had been surprised to be hugged by a tearful Hufflepuff girl she had no memory of. Hermione hadn't been able to make out what she was saying between sobs, but the girl had seemed satisfied with a few pats on the back.

Hermione eventually retreated to a corner that was half-hidden by a tall plant, watching the dancers from her hiding place. A few of them had grace, but most of them seemed to have forgotten their Yule Ball lessons. She watched little Dennis Creevey stumble across the floor with a red-headed girl, and wondered if she should offer him some pointers. But then she saw the enchanted smile on his partner's face, and decided that sometimes grace was overrated.

'Hermione,' Draco Malfoy greeted her as he slid up next to her like a ghost. It would have been very dramatic is she hadn't seen him sneaking over from across the room. She was very attuned to his presence, which somewhat hindered her plans to ignore him.

'Draco,' she replied, staring straight ahead.

'That's a pretty dress,' he said with a charming smile.

'Is it?' she asked with a frown. Sometimes charm was overrated too.

He was suddenly in front of her, inserting himself into her line of vision. 'It is,' he said, his hand reaching out to stroke the fabric near her hip. 'Feels soft.'

She knew she should walk away but she felt like she was glued to the floor. She made herself shrug her shoulders. 'It's nothing special. It was on sale in a low-end dress shop in Muggle London.' That was the truth. She was a little short on cash these days despite the odd jobs she was doing for George and for Tomes and Scrolls. She had been thrifty with her dress, wanting to save her money for a nice interview outfit for her apprenticeship search.

Draco's other hand stroked her bare arm, slipping under the shoulder of her cardigan. 'This is soft too,' he whispered, leaning in closer.

'You're the one going soft,' she whispered back. 'Is that all you've got?'

'Not even close,' was his reply, as he pulled on the fabric at her hip, so that the skirt of the dress started to slide up her leg. He dropped the hand from her shoulder and followed its path.

She put a hand on the back of his head, running her fingers through his hair as she leaned in closer so that their lips almost touched. 'You're right. Not even close. Game over.'

She drew her boot up and down his leg with a gentle stroke as his eyelids fluttered shut, and then released him so quickly he almost lost his balance.

'Goodnight Draco,' she whispered as she headed for the exit, never looking back. When she made it outside, she stopped and rested her forehead against the cool brick wall, thumping her head against it a few times. 'No distractions,' she promised herself.

She lifted her head at the sound of a slow clap. She let it drop again with a sigh at the sight of Pansy Parkinson. 'What do you want?' she asked grumpily.

'Just to congratulate you. That was quite a show. Draco never tried so hard to seduce me, such a lazy boy. He was an awful boyfriend, by the way, very high maintenance.'

'Well he's not my boyfriend,' Hermione said. 'He never was.'

Pansy arched a carefully manicured eyebrow, and Hermione was reminded eerily of Narcissa Malfoy's expression the other day. 'If you say so.'

Hermione waited for her to walk away, but she just stood there looking smug. Hermione decided she had nothing to lose by being the one to leave, and shuffled towards the Apparition point, longing for her bed.

'Of course, he is an excellent correspondent. Sends timely letters, has lovely handwriting. His style used to be quite formal, but for the last few month it's been more sentimental. Nostalgia for our childhood friendship. Regret that we drifted apart. He seems to have blossomed like a rose. Perhaps he would be a worthy boyfriend now.'

'Go ahead,' Hermione said. 'I'm sure you'll make a lovely couple.'

Pansy practically cackled. 'Oh, not for me. I'm way out of his league. But you seemed to have things under control just now, and our dear boy does need a firm hand. This will make an excellent story for my Best Man speech. I'm sure I can find a dashing tuxedo. I'm a very modern woman now, you know? Paris agreed with me.'

Hermione just stared, speechless. She could handle that sort of talk from Luna, but her mind had just completely short-circuited. Pansy Parkinson. Where on earth had she come from?

'Well, I'd better go get reacquainted with Draco, and with your dashing brother. Perhaps I'll even make nice with the host, that Loony girl. She always had such interesting fashion taste. I'm sure we'll have a chance to catch up properly soon Granger. Perhaps I could invite you over for tea with Narcissa? We're quite close.'

With that, Pansy entered the party, swinging the doors open dramatically. Hermione cast a light cheering charm on herself to ease her dizziness. She needed a clear head to Apparate home, and she needed her sleep. She had a big day ahead tomorrow.

Hermione shared tea with Professor Lilith, and thought about how easy it all was. This, she didn't need any practice for. She wasn't being spontaneous or flippant. She had thought long and hard about the kind of mentor she wanted, about the kind of apprentice she wanted to be. She had decided to specialise in Charms and Arithmancy, and had hunted down an expert in both fields. She had read all of her papers and she knew that they would suit each other. There was a time when she might have gone after the surliest academic she could find and spent her time bending over backwards to please them. But now she knew the difference between something being worth doing and something being just plain hard. This apprenticeship would be hard in the right ways, in staying up until midnight working out frustrating Arithmancy calculations, which she was actually looking forward to with glee. She knew that this was right for her. Now she just had to convince Professor Lilith.

'So your N.E. were taken in an unstructured environment, in a compressed timeframe. Do you think that will negatively affect your grades? I really can't afford to wait two weeks for your results.' Professor Lilith's voice was matter-of-fact, not unkind.

'I work well independently. And I have a letter from the current Headmistress expressing her confidence. She says that she believes I was capable of passing my N.E. by my fifth year. Professor McGonagall doesn't give empty praise.'

'And you expect good marks?' Professor Lilith raised an eyebrow.

'My marks will be excellent. I know the curriculum and the grading criteria well enough to know that I performed well on the tests.' Hermione leaned forward. 'There was a time when the thought of those results would have sent me into hysterical panic, but I've grown past that. The N.E. are important, but they won't demonstrate even half of my talent. You'll have to test me for yourself. You won't be disappointed in me.' Hermione silently thanked her brother. She never would have been able to deliver such bold lines without his help practicing the right degree of arrogance. On her own, she either would have swung to being overly modest or irritatingly conceited, depending on her mood. But the Slytherin had pronounced her delivery as perfect, and she could feel the rightness of it now.

Professor Lilith smiled. 'We can start tomorrow. My time is split between London and Paris, my work is very experimental, and I spend half of my time in the field instead of behind a desk. You will need to be prepared for hard work. It will be quite an adventure. Are you ready for that?'

'I love adventure,' Hermione promised with a smile.