A/N: Thank you for reading. It is very generous of you considering that I still can't believe I'm even writing this story.

My cousin and I quietly took our path home. Luna was of course daydreaming. Meanwhile, I was begrudgingly met with Lady Delacour's spell work with each step I took.

"Luna, my boots and dress will not soil!"

"Surely, there are worse predicaments, Hermione." She smiled. "I knew there was more to Lady Delacour –how sweet of her to charm your garments!"

"Sweetness or condescension, cousin? I am quite capable of charming my own wardrobe."

"Of course you are, but isn't it still a generous act?"

"I would like to assume so, but with her seemingly sour temperament, I am unsure," I replied, revisiting the memory of Lady Delacour's glance at my cheeks and the smile that followed.

"So it is decided!" Luna exclaimed. "She is both sweet and sour! They balance each other, do they not?"

"Considering the Yule Ball, which I remind you occurred just last night, I believe your description of the Lady's character to be far too generous."

"Or could it be that you are too sour in your judgment of her?"

"If that is the case, cousin, then all the residents of Hogsmead and its surrounding estates must also be sour in their temperament."

Luna smiled. "Well, possibly they are, Hermione."

"You'd rather assume that a whole township is suffering from mass impairment than judge Lady Delacour?"

"Of course not! But, I do believe that impressions are impressions and nothing else. Until time has exposed one's deeper qualities, we can always choose to expect the best, Hermione."

My cousin does not share her deepest feelings, but she does share her kindness. I could not counter her statement. If I did, I would be dismantling the very qualities which make her so special to me. I threaded my arm into her's and smiled. This retraction from our conversation was meant to protect Luna's well of hopefulness. For if she did not hold on to her eternal optimism, I knew not who would in her place.

...

...

"He comes tonight?" I inquired. "And only one day after the Yule Ball?"

Mrs. Weasley hadn't even the patience to wait for my undressing of outer garments before she made her proclamation.

"Tonight," Mrs. Weasley sternly repeated. "Mr. Lockhart dines with us at seven. I expect you in tidiest form, Hermione."

'Tidiest form' meant I would not be studying ancient runes in a comfortable robe or partaking in any other activity I'd rather be doing instead of dining with Gilderoy Lockhart. I huffed under my breath and retreated to my room, where Luna and I hid until his unfortunate arrival.

Granted, there are worse things than one evening with an unpleasant wizard. There are true calamities in this world and unforgivable curses, not to mention splinching and dangerous wizards in dark alleys. This I told myself to as I watched Mr. Lockhart enter with three books in his hand, no doubt his atrocious memoirs for a read aloud following dinner.

Regrettably, this was just the beginning of my woes; an even worse development came shortly thereafter when Mr. Weasley announced the arrival of Mr. Potter's owl. Luna and I were to dine with them tomorrow night! There would be no peace for me in this world I decided as I heard the news. To add lemon to my wounds, Mr. Lockhart inquired when the next ball was so he could have the first dance with me! This was after Mrs. Weasley, in a very unconcealed matter, stated that Mr. Potter surely had designs on Luna.

Luna looked at me sympathetically and whispered, "I'm sorry."

"I am one and twenty and he is...Luna, I can't even tell how old he is with all the cosmetic spells he is obviously using!"

Then I felt a kick on my shin followed by a cough by Mrs. Weasley. "Mr. Lockhart," she began, "I see that you have some books with you! Will we be hearing of your adventures tonight?"

"Yes, I bookmarked quite a few fascinating stories from my travels to read. Should we retire to your sitting room?"

"Of course," she replied smiling.

I could see poor Mr. Weasley's wince from across our table which elicited a glare from his wife. I glanced at the twins, suspecting Mrs. Weasley had the boys under a silencing curse; they hadn't spoken a word all evening! Ron was chewing as usual and Ginny was sneak reading a novel under the table. By the exasperated look on Mrs. Weasley's face, I was quite sure none of our behaviors escaped her attention on this harrowing night, bolstering my fear that our shared future in Mr. Lockheart's company and beyond was sure to be bleak.