Hermione read the Daily Prophet the next morning with a critical eye. They'd published an article speculating about which way the Wizengamot would vote on Sirius Black's innocence, despite the trial not having even begun. The article seemed to simultaneously indicate that Sirius Black was clearly innocent, but also that there was clearly something nefarious and manipulative going on.

The Daily Prophet had the oddest editorial slant Hermione had ever seen. If they were attempting to be objective by presenting both sides of the matter, they were failing horribly – it just came out like two dueling writers had written the article, contradicting each other in the same piece.

"So," said Blaise, sitting down for breakfast at her side. "It's Hogsmeade weekend. Millie's in the Hospital Wing, and Tracey's gone off with Pucey." He raised his eyebrows. "Given Malfoy's still avoiding you and not talking to you, I doubt you're going to go to Hogsmeade with him again…"

Hermione laughed.

"No, you're right," she said. "He hasn't spoken to me in weeks."

"Want to come along with me, then?" he asked.

Hermione looked at him sideways. "Won't Sally-Anne mind that?"

Blaise shrugged, giving her an easy grin. "We don't have formal plans. Plus, she'd like to meet you, I think."

The idea that Blaise's sort-of girlfriend would want to meet her came as a surprise.

"I—ah, maybe?" Hermione faltered. "I'm meeting Julian Selwyn at the Three Broomsticks at three, so we could—"

"Julian Selwyn?" Blaise made a face. "Who's he?"

"The UK representative to the International Confederation of Wizards," Hermione said. "It's Wizengamot business, really – I need him to get me in touch with someone else."

"So… it's a wizard you've never met before?"

"Well, yes," Hermione said. "That's what the introduction today is for."

"I'll be there, then." Blaise had a dark expression. "The last time you met someone new in Hogsmeade, you were kidnapped."

"That was your cousin," Hermione protested.

"Lazzero was not my cousin," Blaise objected. "He's the son of the brother of one of my step-dads – I'm not related to him by blood at all."

"He was your contact—"

"Nevertheless," Blaise said firmly, "I think you should have protection."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I seriously doubt the official representative of the UK is going to kidnap me."

"If you're meeting at the Three Broomsticks, it'll be easy enough to provide backup," Blaise said. "Sally-Anne and I will just get a table nearby. We'll be able to keep an eye on things then."

"'We'?" Hermione commented dryly. "Is Sally-Anne quick enough with her wand to defend me in the event a grown wizard decides he means me harm?"

Blaise paused.

"Well," he said, after a moment. "Hopefully we won't need to find out."

Sally-Anne Perks was a third-year Gryffindor with long, straight brown hair. She was of average height, maybe a few inches shorter than Hermione, with full eyebrows and brown eyes. Hermione recognized her from Transfiguration; she often put on reading glasses while she took notes, and then took them off and hung them from her robes when actually attempting the transfigurations. Tracey had made a crude remark about the glasses getting lost in her bosom once, and Hermione and Millie had needed to fake a coughing fit to hide their giggles.

It felt rude to recognize a girl by the size of her curves, but with Sally-Anne, they were ample, and particularly hard to not notice in the robe she'd chosen to wear.

She was pretty enough, Hermione supposed, looking her over as she approached with Blaise.

"Hi! I'm Sally-Anne," Sally-Anne greeted her. She extended her hand to Hermione, and Hermione took it instinctively, shaking it.

"I'm Hermione Granger," Hermione said reflexively. "Pleased to meet you."

Sally-Anne let go of her hand, beaming.

"You shook my hand!" she said, grinning. "Do you know how many people just stare at me when I do that?"

A slow smirk grew on Hermione's face.

"I imagine quite a few," she said. "They don't really shake hands in the wizarding world, do they?"

"They don't! They just stare and sneer, really. And I don't understand why," Sally-Anne ranted. She was immediately heated, and Hermione sensed this was not the first time she'd gone on this particular tirade. "It's not as if touching hands with another person is magically dangerous or significant, is it? But no, we're going to curtsy instead, because we all decided we'd prefer to live out our full Jane Austen fantasy, didn't we?"

A smile threatened to spread across Hermione's face, and she was dismayed to realize she might actually like this girl.

"Our Jane Austen fantasy?" she said, amusement in her tone. "With the lack of grand balls we have around here? Hardly."

"You know it!" Sally-Anne giggled delightedly. "Even Blaise here didn't shake my hand – he kissed it instead." She looked at him fondly. "Not as bad as staring at me like a bug, but still very Regency."

"I object – I was taught to kiss the hands of beautiful women," Blaise protested easily, giving them both a charming smile. "I was being polite."

"Oh, pish," Sally-Anne said, slapping his arm lightly and laughing. "I'm no beautiful woman, you rake."

"I speak only the truth," Blaise flirted. Hermione barely managed to refrain from rolling her eyes as Sally-Anne laughed again.

"I'm fourteen," Sally-Anne said. "I'm not a woman by any means."

"A mere technicality," Blaise responded, offering her his arm. "Still beautiful, though."

Sally-Anne laughed and took his arm, fond. "Flatterer."

Blaise looked to Hermione, offering her his other arm.

"Coming along?" he asked. He shifted his elbow, clearly indicating she should take his arm, and Hermione paused.

Sally had taken Blaise's left arm, and Blaise was offering Hermione his right.

Hermione had finally asked Daphne after the Easter break about the significance of sitting on a person's left or right. Draco and his mother had made such a fuss about it that she hadn't been able to drop it, and she'd wanted to know what it meant. Daphne had been happy to explain – a romantic consort always sat on the left, an advisor on the right.

"My mother always sits to my father's left," she had explained to Hermione. "If she sat on his right, people would presume she was bossing him around, telling him what to do. And she would never."

Her explanation made sense, to Hermione. She'd seen photographs of Kings and Queens of years past, with the King on the left and the Queen on the right, which meant she sat at the King's left.

However, Queen Elizabeth II, the reigning monarch, did not have a King. Her husband, Prince Phillip, was the 'prince consort'. He did not have the power and did not reign as King; she was the one in power. And on the telly, from everything Hermione had seen, Prince Phillip sat on her left.

The whole business of sitting at the sides of someone being a silent declaration was exactly the sort of over-dramatic pureblooded culture nonsense Hermione often got annoyed with, though she knew she had to do her best to learn it all to adapt and blend in. She'd been able to gather that because she'd taken the lead talking to Draco's mother, Narcissa had identified her as the 'one in power'.

And now…

Sally-Anne had taken Blaise's left arm, which left Hermione on his right. Which was proper and made sense – Sally-Anne was dating Blaise, so naturally she was on his left. Only…

Well. That still put him at her left, didn't it?

Deciding she was overanalyzing things, Hermione shook her head to clear it and took his arm. A genuine smile spread across Blaise's face, almost relieved, and Hermione wondered if he really thought she'd been about to make a scene.

"To the carriages, then," Blaise said grandly, leading the way.

"Carriages! It is a Jane Austen fantasy," Sally-Anne declared. "So be it! To the carriages, then!"

Hermione laughed.

"To the carriages," Hermione agreed.

Blaise and Sally-Anne pranced across the Courtyard grandly, and Hermione got caught up in it, skipping to keep up, laughing, and Sally-Anne was laughing as well. Blaise puffed out his chest and tried to look as stuffy as possible, and Sally-Anne put her nose up in the air so high Hermione wondered how she could even see. Hermione used her air elemental to make her own robes sweep about rather dramatically, and Sally-Anne took the side of her own robes, attempting to sweep them rather grandly as well.

They were probably being ridiculous and making a bit of a scene, but Hermione found she couldn't bring herself to care. It was fun.

"Do you think they'll finally get rid of the dementors?" Sally-Anne asked, as Blaise helped her into the carriage. "If Sirius Black isn't a danger anymore, I think we should get rid of them. I hate going past them."

Hermione shuddered as she climbed in after. "I couldn't agree with you more."

Tagging along as the third wheel on Blaise's date was an incredibly odd experience, mostly because of just how odd it didn't feel. Sally-Anne included her in conversation, didn't seem to resent her presence, and was perfectly kind and chatty the entire time. It felt more like hanging out with friends at Hogsmeade than it did a date she was intruding on, and Hermione wondered in a different life, if she might have naturally made friends with Sally-Anne.

"I swear, it's just for the aesthetic," Sally-Anne said, as she purchased a new quill. "There's no good reason we can't just use biros."

"There is, actually," Hermione said, amused. "You can jinx the ink from a ballpoint pen to change, and verification spells don't work on it. Unless the ink flows directly from the movement of your hand, without a little ball getting in the way, the spells we use don't work properly."

"You mean I can't use a ballpoint pen because they want to cast anti-cheating spells at my essays?" Sally-Anne protested. "Can't they just tell by my handwriting that I'm the one who wrote it?"

"If you wrote with a biro, the ink could be jinxed to change into your handwriting," Hermione said, shrugging. "It's a bit of a hassle, but it makes sense. Magic complicates things like that."

Sally-Anne sighed. "It does, doesn't it? What a pain."

Inside the bookstore, Sally-Anne was protesting the lack of fiction.

"I read enough nonfiction for school. I want something fun to read on the weekends," she complained. "I swear, the wizarding world is so behind in some things. I have to get my mum to send me novels."

"You'll want to look under memoirs," Hermione told her, taking out a beginner's alchemy book for herself. "They do have fiction here, but they pass it off as dramatic experiences, pretending they were real."

"Wait, really?" Sally-Anne's eyes grew wide. "You're serious?"

"Don't you remember Lockhart's books?" Blaise teased her. "All the fanciful adventures he said he went on?"

"You know…" Sally-Anne looked thoughtful. "They did rather read like fiction, didn't they? The pacing, the plots…" She looked at Hermione. "Does that mean he didn't do the things he said he did, then?"

Hermione laughed.

"I'm not answering that," she informed her, taking out another book, one on legends of long ago.

"Why not?" Sally-Anne protested. "If you have such opinions on fiction—"

"Because to say 'yes' would be to imply he'd faked his teaching credentials," Hermione said promptly. "And I like him teaching History. He's much better than Binns ever was."

Sally-Anne laughed. "Alright, alright, fair point there."

Sally-Anne wanted to stop at Gladrags Wizardwear. Blaise stayed with her as she perused the robes, exclaiming over new arrivals, but Hermione, who was not dating Sally-Anne and was under no obligation to trail after her, was happy to sit in a chair and take out her new alchemy book to read. Blaise shot her a jealous look as he followed after Sally-Anne, holding a few robes for her that she wanted to try on, and Hermione shot a smug smirk back.

When Sally-Anne had finally decided what new spring robe she wanted, Blaise then had to wait outside a curtain while the tailoring witch came over to apply fitting charms. Hermione was included with her into the tailoring area, curious to learn what charms they were using. Sally-Anne's figure was such that she had to get a very large size to fit over her top, and in order for it not to look like she was drowning, the robe had to be taken in severely at the waist and hips.

"My mum always said I'd have top-heavy figure, just like her," Sally-Anne laughed, grinning at Hermione. She gave a sigh, slightly wistful. "I'll never balance out like you."

"What, me?" Hermione looked down at herself. "I'm not nearly as blessed as you."

"No, but you've got enough, don't you?" Sally-Anne laughed. "You've got both breasts and a bottom, whereas everything meant for my butt ended up in my breasts instead."

Hermione had never before considered her hips and bottom as a positive. "You think?"

"You've got an hourglass figure," Sally-Anne told her, a bit envious. "I'm stuck with everything up top."

"Boys seem to like it," Hermione said neutrally, and Sally blushed.

"Well, there is that," she conceded. "Can you imagine if I were a pureblood, though? Lavender's constantly telling me I need to get proper stays! As if stays would hold these things up, right?" She grinned. "I'll be keeping my bras, please and thank you, miss."

"Me, too." Hermione couldn't help but smile back. "Some things, the muggles just do better."

"Right?" Sally-Anne agreed emphatically.

"Please hold still," the tailoring witch begged, and Sally-Anne blushed, quieting and holding still.

After the robe shopping was done, Blaise led them to the Three Broomsticks. It'd settled down somewhat, now that it was moderately after lunch time. They took one of the booths, Sally-Anne sliding onto one bench, Hermione sliding into the opposite. Blaise went and got them all butterbeers before sliding onto the bench next to Sally-Anne, and after some meaningless chit-chat about how busy the place was, Sally-Anne focused on Hermione with a smile.

"So! Tell me about you," she asked, brown eyes sparkling. "Blaise has told me some things, but I want to know about you from you."

"What has Blaise told you?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Oh, just the basics," Sally-Anne said, waving a hand vaguely. "You're a New Blood, which is something special, you're in a coven together, you're his best friend, you're on the Wizengamot, that sort of thing. But all that's boring."

"That's boring?" Hermione said incredulously.

"Well, yeah – anything I could read in the paper about you isn't something personal about you, is it?" Sally-Anne said. "Look – I can learn you're the Heroine of Hogwarts from the Daily Prophet, but that doesn't tell me who Hermione is, really, or what's important to you."

Hermione blinked.

"I don't think I've ever been asked to just define myself to someone before," she said. "I hardly know where to start."

Sally-Anne grinned.

"Let's start with your jewelry, shall we?" she said. "That set is lovely. Are those pearls?"

Hermione's hand went to her pendant, fingering it lightly. "I think so."

"Is that a fancy pureblood courting token?" Sally-Anne asked. "Lily Moon had one of those for a while. They're more common in Slytherin though, I hear."

"Ah—of a sort." Hermione faltered. "It—um. Kind of? It's hard to explain."

"It is really?" Sally-Anne got excited. "I was just gabbing! I didn't think you were seeing anyone!"

"I'm—I'm not, not really," Hermione said quickly. "It's more a—"

"Who gave it to you, then?" Sally-Anne wanted to know, eyes sparkling. "Did you dump them? Are you allowed to wear the fancy token even if you break up?"

"It's—ah—"

Hermione faltered. How to explain, and how much to explain to someone she barely knew? Sally-Anne was practically vibrating with excitement, and even Blaise was watching her now, dark eyes fixed on her. Hermione fingered her bracelet and bit her lip as she tried to gather the words.

"A courting gift doesn't necessarily mean someone is being actively courted," Hermione said, slowly. "It's an indication that one would pay the other suit."

"But you're wearing it," Sally-Anne said. "Doesn't that mean you accept their suit?"

"It indicates that I would accept such a suit," Hermione said, hesitating, "were it paid."

"If they gave it to you, then they clearly want to court you, so what's the big—"

"We can't," Hermione said quickly. "Court, that is."

"Why not?" Sally-Anne wanted to know. "Is it some over-dramatic blood purity thing—"

"Because they're in France," Hermione snapped. "And neither of us can be expected to wait for someone across the English Channel."

Sally-Anne fell silent, her eyes wide, and Hermione bit her lip.

"Look, I'm sorry for snapping," Hermione apologized. "It's just—it's a bit of a sensitive subject. And I—I haven't seen them since the summer. It's very personal."

Sally-Anne nodded slowly.

"So… your boyfriend is in France?" she said. "But he's not your boyfriend right now? 'Cause you were dating Cedric Diggory for a while."

"That's… close enough," Hermione said, amending her original response.

"Is he dating anyone else too?" Sally-Anne wanted to know. "Even though he wants to be courting you?"

"They're—ah, they're in a unique situation that makes dating in general difficult," Hermione said, parsing her words. "They've tried going out with a few people, and kissed a few, but they haven't had much luck with it yet, really."

"And he tells you this?" Sally-Anne was horrified. "That's so insensitive!"

"We keep in touch," Hermione said defensively, "and we're both practical and fully aware of the situation. I would be happy if they got a partner that they had a connection with – I'm not about to demand they stay faithful to me when I can never see them – but they just haven't had much luck."

Sally-Anne gave her a dubious look. "If you say so."

"Look, it's fine. It doesn't matter anyway," Hermione said, shaking her head. "I'm hoping I'll get to see them soon, anyway, so letters recently have been planning that—"

"You will?"

Sally-Anne was suddenly excited again, but Blaise had spoken up as well, curious eyes on hers.

"You're going to see them?" Blaise asked again. "Soon? Are they coming to England?"

"Err—no, they're still at Beauxbatons," Hermione said slowly, holding Blaise's gaze. "They can't—"

"So you're going to sneak out?" Sally-Anne was practically vibrating in her seat. "You're going to sneak out and Portkey to France for a romantic rendez-vous?"

"I'm—"

Hermione was saved from answering by the arrival of a very tall man wearing a multicolored cap. He had on long, sweeping multicolored robes, and the colors seemed to shift slightly on the fabric as he moved. He glanced around the restaurant, his eyes alighting on hers and smiling.

"That'll be Julian Selwyn, my contact," Hermione said, standing up. "I have to go. It was great to meet you, Sally-Anne. Thanks for letting me hang out with you."

"Oh, anytime! If you finish up—"

But Hermione was moving away from their table, greeting Julian at the door with an elegant curtsy. He grinned at her, returning her curtsy with a fancy bow.

"Have you been waiting long?" he asked with an easy smile. "Shall we return to your table?"

Hermione bit her lip and glanced back at the table she had left, where Blaise was looking at her from.

"Actually," she said. "It's rather warm and crowded in here. Do you mind if we take a walk?"

"Not at all," he said, smiling. "We can take a bench at the station if you like."

Hermione could feel Blaise's eyes boring into her back as she left with the stranger, but she ignored it, determinedly leaving with the ICW representative at her side. Blaise could have his chatty and cheery companion all to himself, if he wanted. Hermione was happy to leave them be so they could have time to snog. And she was quite done answering the nosy questions of Sally-Anne, no matter now nice and bubbly she seemed to be.

"This is about werewolves, you said in your letter?" Julian said, holding the door open for her. "I must admit, they are not my area of expertise."

"Don't worry about that," Hermione said, leaving the warm shop. "I just need an introduction and information from you on how the ICW works."