Lost

Hermione spent the next three weeks in peace, perfecting the art of pretending Malfoy did not exist. It was a challenge of course, given that he seemed determined to exist as loudly and irritatingly as possible, but she was thankful for her discipline. It was a nice change, making the first few days of the lunar cycle seem unreachably in the past. Ignoring him came so naturally, her days without a single explosive argument or dramatic confrontation. She just...removed him from her world. Occasionally he'd sneer at her in the corridors, something sharp-edged and condescending as usual, but she didn't pause. She simply walked past him, her mind occupied with Ancient Runes essays or whatever it was that Ron was complaining about at the time. She didn't rise to Malfoy's bait; she didn't even look at him. 

With spring progressing, final exams were looming over Hogwarts, and she was in full-on preparation mode. Her schedule, color-coded and strictly revised, mapped out practically each hour of every day. She balanced essays, spell practice, and last-minute research for extra credit, bouncing around the library, common room, and Room of Requirement. Hours were spent surrounded by books, whether it was reviewing runes, brushing up on advanced transfiguration theory, or cross-referencing potions ingredients. Hogwarts became her haven yet again: structured and free of blond-haired distractions. 

On her rarely free Saturdays, she and Ginny spent afternoons by the Black Lake, lying in the sun and chatting over a few stolen pastries from the kitchen. A Hogsmeade trip was due with Ron and Harry, but given the time of year, making arrangements was more difficult.

On a particularly warmer Saturday, two days from the full moon, Hermione received an owl from Professor Slughorn. Her nose was deep in one of her runes books while Ginny was ranting away about Ernie Macmillan, the letter plopping into Hermione's lap. 

"What's that?" Ginny asked, her fingers going to work at braiding her hair. The sun's intensity had made her skin flushed.

"It's from Slughorn. Probably about our potion..." Her fingers tore at the envelope, opening its lip and unfolding the parchment within. It was a handsome letter, embroidered in shimmering gold ink. Ginny's eyes glinted with curiosity as she hovered over Hermione's shoulder, reading along:

 

Professor Horace Slughorn

Head of Slytherin House

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

 

Dear Miss Granger,

It is with great pleasure that I invite you to a most exclusive gathering—my annual Spring Soirée for the Exceptional! As one of Hogwarts' most outstanding students (a truly brilliant young witch, if I may say so), you are, of course, on my guest list.

The event will be held on Saturday evening, the 15th of April, at 7:30 PM in my private chambers. You can expect an evening of delightful conversation, exquisite refreshments, and the company of a select few individuals who, like yourself, are destined for great things. 

As a special privilege, you are welcome to bring a guest of your choosing—someone equally promising or simply a companion to enjoy the evening with. I do hope you will attend, dear girl. It simply wouldn't be the same without you!

Yours most affably,

Professor Horace E. F. Slughorn

 

"Affably? What the hell does that mean?" Ginny asked, snapping Hermione back to reality. 

"Friendly, good natured," she answered without thought, reading over the letter again. "I bet he invited McLaggen." 

"I bet he invited Malfoy." Hermione's face contorted at her smug face, her hands plopping into her lap in frustration.

"I really don't have time for this—"

"Oh, come on, 'Mione! We can get you a dress and I can help with your hair and—"

"Gin, no—"

"—and you can show up all sexy and afterwards we can sneak a drink and you can tell me—"

"We've talked about this. I want nothing to do with him."

"Hermione." Ginny sat next to her and took her book, shutting it dramatically. "First off," she raised a brow, "you only live once. You're going to be the Minister of Magic, there's no denying it, shush!" Hermione motioned to intervene but Ginny held up a finger. "You're going to pass your exams. You're going to come back next year and graduate and live your beautiful life with me and Ron and Harry and Luna and Neville and whoever bloody else wants to join. That's inevitable. I want you to have fun, take a risk and just live once or twice. We all do it, Harry sneaks off in his cloak, Ron parties with the quidditch team, I sneak some firewhiskey. Pish posh."

Hermione rolled her eyes, a scoff shooting from her lips. "I have fun! I just enjoy academics, can't that be my fun? I join you all sometimes, but, rebellion and partying isn't really for me..."

They sat in silence for a bit before Ginny returned her book. Hermione motioned to put it in her bag before a glimmer caught Ginny's eye.

"I've been watching him, y'know. He likes to look at you." 

Hermione paused, some energy similar to disgust igniting within her chest. She cringed at this new fixation Ginny had on Malfoy. Last week, she tried to convince Hermione she saw him try to feel her hair in the hallway, "All fascinated-like," she'd said.

"Mm. Probably imagining ways to cut off my head."

"No, he doesn't look angry, just sulking. I'm telling you, you've caught his attention somehow. He's even been off during practice games, like he's distracted." 

"What's your point? I loathe him and vice versa. If I'm lucky, I've sent him into an existential crisis after our last chat." She traced the raised grooves on her palm, thinking back to her blood dripping on Slughorn's floor. 

"My point is, this," Ginny held up the invitation, "isn't about partying and getting clobbered. It's about having the most fun of your life pulling on Malfoy's strings. Maybe you're right, he hates you. But from what you've told me, you've figured out how to shut him up! No one knows how to do that." 

Hermione sighed, growing tired of arguing. "If I say yes to this, do you promise to drop it now and when it's done?" 

"Yes, a thousand times over." She was in that posture again, one where her anticipation might boil over into a convulsion. Hermione huffed, giving up.

"Fine. Let's go to the courtyard, it's got a cooling enchantment."

The girls chatted some more as they strolled back to the castle. Ginny mentioned some new wizard gag that Fred came up with, one that instantly puts beans in your shoes upon contact, contemplating whether to put it into Ron's or Dean's shoes. Hermione brought up exams, which was quickly shut down by Ginny, and when they reached the courtyard, they plopped themselves on the grass next to a flowering tree. Hermione quickly made herself occupied with another book, this time refreshing herself on the art of charm layering. She was halfway through a scribble of notes before she felt Ginny's elbow jut into her ribcage. Scowling up, she followed Ginny's gaze at a head of blonde-hair across the yard. Malfoy moved in his usual swagger, unbothered and on an agenda, a passing flock of Ravenclaw girls blushing and giggling. Hermione rolled her eyes, feeling sick. His black robes billowed behind him as he strode towards the greenhouses, passing Hermione and Ginny without a glance. Unimpressed, Hermione returned to her book, shaking her head at the squawking of the girls. 

"Did you see that? He flexed his hand when he passed us," Ginny smirked. 

"Okay?" 

"That means he was trying to play cool—"

"Ginny, you promised."

"Fine, fine. You can just tell me all about what he does at the party."

"You got invited? How did you get invited?" Ron stammered, his skin translucent in the glow of the Gryffindor common room. Harry beamed an idiotic smile, making Hermione giggle.

"I'm Harry Potter," he blinked, sending Ron into fumes. 

Hermione was relieved Slughorn had invited Harry; after she'd parted ways from Ginny for class, the realization of what she'd agreed to haunted her for three hours. In what world would she actually endure a party just to play with Malfoy? The thought of it sent chills down her spine...at least she'll know someone there that isn't going to make an attempt at her esteem. She began to zone out for a moment, wondering exactly what Ginny wanted her to do. Make him angry? Challenge him? Flirt? Ugh, this was stupid. Awful idea.

She came back to more of Ron's whining. "Who are you taking, then?" He was looking rather desperate to Hermione, and she could hardly stand the awkwardness. 

"Er...well, no one. I can't ask you, you're my mate—"

"You can't ask me?! He said companion, I'm a companion!"

"Well, yeah, but—"

"But what?"

"Ronald, this is ridiculous, would you like to just go with me? You need dress robes," Hermione rolled her eyes and stood, exhausted from the conversation. "I'm going to rest a bit before getting ready. Prepare for...long conversations." Ron's face turned red before she turned, heading up the stairs into the girls' dormitory. She just wanted some silence—no complaining, no coercion, nothing. She flopped backwards onto her bed, her eyes fixed at the tapestry above her bed. What was supposed to be a calm Saturday, a break from studies and academic exhaustion, was growing irritatingly full of things she didn't want to do. She could only hope that Ron didn't take this as anything romantic, or she might rupture an eye vessel. I'm just going to get dressed, eat dinner with a group, talk about achievements and fluffed egos, and leave. Harry and Ron will be there. It'll be fine, I never go out and live in the moment and this is one of those moments... Smashing.

A knock rhythmed on the door before creaking open, Ginny's rose hair peeking out. A sly smile plastered itself to her face, her eyes mischievously twinkling. 

"Hi. Y'know how I said I had a divination class? I lied," she walked into the dormitory carrying a burgundy dress, the fabric catching the shimmering fire from the room's candles. Hermione stared at it in infatuation, speechless. "Prepare for the ego trip of your life."

"Gin—where did you get this?" She ran her hand along the fabric, releasing herself into its softness.

"Oh, Madame Malkin owed me a favor...long story, really, but I had some money from Fred—don't ask what for—and when you went to class I thought I'd see if she could discount me on her fancier stuff. We're about the same size, yeah? Try it on." 

Hermione blushed, overwhelmed at the gesture. "Ginny, I—thank you, but I can't—"

"Please, I pressured you to do this anyways, so I could at least dress you up."

Hermione smiled and hugged her friend before grabbing the dress and putting it on over her clothes. It zipped without a fight, instantly winning her over. Ginny made a face, disappointed as she observed Hermione's figure. 

"Hm...it looks a bit funny in some spots. Maybe try it without your robes on underneath." 

Hermione shook her head. "I can tailor it, it's fine. Thank you Ginny, it's unbelievable." 

Ginny hesitantly nodded, unconvinced that Hermione could fix its lumpiness. She took the dress off and hung it above her bed, motioning Ginny to follow her to the bathroom. 

It wasn't often that Hermione let anyone do her hair—normally, she was perfectly fine with a simple braid or leaving it down in its natural chaos. Ginny, however, insisted that it was too special of an occasion to leave it in its 'hive form', and Hermione hadn't really the energy to argue.

"It's just a party," she muttered as Ginny brushed through her hair, enchanting it so the curls define themselves. Her hair's mass increased in volume, but it was neat and tidy, a rare and gorgeous array of natural ringlets. Ginny expertly twisted a few strands and pinned them back with a delicate charm, letting a few strands frame her face. She smirked as she reached for a vial of shimmering lip gloss.

"Oh sure, it's just a party. A fancy, exclusive Slughorn party where you'll be surrounded by influential people and, oh yeah, Malfoy."

"Tragic." Ginny dabbed gloss onto Hermione's lips before she could argue. She added some touches of things to her eyes and skin, stepping back in approval.

"There! Perfect."

Hermione smacked her lips together and examined herself in the mirror. She had to admit, Ginny had done an impressive job. Her hair was soft-looking and prominent, demanding attention and rewarding it with enticement. She suddenly thought it was her best feature, and her makeup—subtle but polished—made her eyes stand out more than usual. While she was admiring herself, Ginny retrieved the dress, exiting to let Hermione change. The fabric felt luxurious on her skin as she slid the dress on. It really was a beautiful shade of red, emphasizing the bits of gold in her brown hair. She called for Ginny to return, who gasped in enthrallment. 

"Woah," she breathed while zipping the back for her. "You look like Gryffindor's daughter in that."

"I dunno, this is a lot of shoulder..." Hermione hummed skeptically. She wasn't sure she wanted eyes on this much of her...this was a professional party, after all. She retrieved her wand and turned in the mirror, adjusting the fabric to suit her waist and back. She lengthened the sleeves until they reached her elbows and raised the neckline to expose just the tops of her shoulders and collar bone. Her skin glowed, the contrast drastic against the rich fabric. "Better."

"Better? You look stunning. I wish I could see how many people lose their minds at the sight of you."

Hermione laughed, shaking her head. "You're ridiculous."

"I'm right." She nudged Hermione towards the door. "It's getting late, go knock 'em dead. I want to hear all about it; if Malfoy stares at you for too long, maybe hex him or something." 

Hermione shot her a look before giving her a quick hug, rushing out to meet Harry and Ron in the common room. Harry was dressed in handsome black and white robes, a pleasant, neat tie at his neck. Ron was dressed in some frantically collected items, his shirt a bit baggy beneath his brown cloak. He looked pleasant and homey, making a grin crack at Hermione's lips. 

When their attention landed on her, they were awestruck. Ron's mouth went slightly agape.

"Wow... 'Mione, you look...er, decent, you look pretty d-decent," he stammered as Harry gave her a toothy grin. They shared their pleasantries, Hermione's heart fluttering with nerves, before they left the common room. Her anxiety ebbed as they made their way to Slughorn's chambers, their friendly banter awakening her hibernating sense of adventure. She knew she could rely on them, her stability and comfort, bringing her a force of invincibility. Tonight belonged to the three them, and the rest of the world could remain in slumber. Just for tonight.