"What do you mean you don't have anything to wear?" 

Ginny was furious. And that wasn't a good omen. Ginny furious generally ended up with bad results, which in one case included George having been punched in the face. 

Hermione scooted her chair away from the fiery redhead, just to be on the safer side.

They were seated in the kitchen at Godric's Hollow. They had all just gotten back from work, and Ginny had insisted that Hermione drop by their place. Hermione had agreed, obviously. Now she almost regretted it.

Outside, the sky was a dark purple, just the end of twilight, but not quite night yet.

"Well, I don't necessarily own anything particularly suited for the occasion," Hermione looked away from Ginny's piercing eyes.

"You're bringing this to my attention a week before the date?" Ginny glares at her with so much fire that Hermione was surprised she didn't burn up and die on the spot.

"I hadn't thought about it at all, actually," Hermione admitted, "I'm not the dressing up type."

"Clearly," Ginny rolled her eyes, "get ready for this Friday, after work. We'll head to Diagon Alley. Oh and bring Narcissa along if she would like."

"Sure, I'll ask her," Hermione sipped her tea, grateful for Ginny's efforts at being accepting. The tea burnt her tongue, but she enjoyed it nonetheless. She felt the warmth of the drink spread through her body.

"Do you know anyone else who's going?" Hermione asked for the sake of conversation, "Blaise and Luna are going."

"Neville's already at Hogwarts," Ginny said, looking up at the ceiling and biting her lower lip, thinking, "Hannah's going as well, Pansy, Zacharias, Dean, Parvati, Goyle, Padma, Seamus, Ron, George is going too, with Angelina, as my invited guests- oh."

Hermione's grip on her cup had tightened. Her knuckles were white with the force, and she feared if she held on longer the cup would shatter in her hands. But she held on to it as though it was the only thing anchoring her to reality. 

"Hermione, I'm so sorry, I don't know what I was thinking," Ginny stood and wrapped her arms around Hermione's shoulder, cradling her head. Her touch felt like Mrs. Weasley's. It was achingly familiar and comforting. 

"I'm fine," Hermione tried to convince herself as much as she tried to convince Ginny. She closed her eyes and cleared her mind. She could fight this. She was stronger than this. She wouldn't break down, not here, not for that pathetic ginger boy.

"I'm sorry," Ginny repeated before pulling away and gripping her shoulders. 

"It's okay, Ginny," Hermione said, "I- I can't let him affect me like this."

Ginny nodded, "He is an arse."

"Don't hate him on my account," hermjone sighed.

"No, I hate him entirely of my own accord."

"Then it's alright."

"He's a git."

"Absolutely."

------

Narsissa and Hermione sat at their usual spot by the shop window. The late evening sky was dotted with a few stars. Hermione realised that here, sipping tea and sitting with Narcissa, she felt relaxed. If anyone would have told her three years ago that she would be sitting and sharing biscuits and tea with Narcissa Malfoy, Hermione would have laughed in their faces. But now, the idea didn't seem foreign. 

"Narcissa," Hermione remembered, "I was wondering if you'd like to accompany me and Ginny tomorrow. We're coming to Diagon Alley."

"Oh, what for?" Narcissa placed her cup down on the table.

"The students who were in our year received invitations for a Halloween ball," Hermione explained, "and I've decided to go. But I don't have anything to wear, so Ginny wanted to help me buy something. She asked if you could come along too."

"I'd love to, dear," Narcissa's eyes twinkled with anticipation. Hermione assumed she liked shopping. Narcissa smiled broadly after a while, "I believe I know just the place."

-------

"The Whispering Cloaks of Clarissa James?" Hermione had never seen this place before. Then again, it was in the more expensive part of Diagon Alley, and Hermione barely had enough galleons to be able to shop here.

"This is bloody fantastic," Ginny gushed, rushing into the store.

"Hermione, your mouth is hanging open," Narcissa chuckled.

How could it not be hanging open? She could see the dresses on the shelves and hangers, and they were exquisitely beautiful. Each one was different. Some were dusted with glitter or sequins and sparkled in the light, some were made of tuille so thin and delicate that they looked like fairy wings. The shop had a smooth, wooden floor and mirrors on every wall. She didn't want to look stupid, however, so she snapped her mouth shut and followed Narcissa inside.

She. Was. Completely. Spellbound.

"Narcissa," she said breathily, "I couldn't possibly allow you to buy it for me, these look like they cost a fortune!"

"Oh, pish posh, Hermione," Narcissa waved away Hermione's concern, "it's the least I can do. Clarissa and me are friends."

"Is that you, Narcissa?" a tall witch dressed in black trousers and a white shirt appeared from between the shelves, with an excited expression on her face, "Cissy, it really is you!"

She ran toward us, squealing, and enveloped Narcissa in a tight hug. Narcissa laughed and hugged her back, "It's good to see you, Clarissa."

"You here for something or just paying me a visit?" Clarissa James threw her dark brown curls over her shoulder, and surveyed Hermine and Ginny over Narcissa's head. She wore killer heels to add to her height, so that she towered over the other three women. Her bright, warm smile was very infectious, and soon, Hermione found herself smiling as well.

"I'm here to buy," Narcissa clarified, "for Hermione Granger."

"Hermione Granger," Clarissa lurched towards Hermione and wrung her hand, "I thought I recognised you, of course, I just wasn't sure. It's lovely to meet you in person, I've only ever seen you in the Daily Prophet, and I must say, I'm positively flustered and overwhelmed which is why I'm shaking your hand for so long."

Hermione was extremely flattered and embarrassed at the same time, "It's lovely to meet you too."

"Now, no dawdling," Clarissa straightened and cleared her throat, "Miss Granger, eh? You'll need something dazzling."

"Shiny," Ginny added helpfully.

"Unique," Narcissa added.

"Hm, exactly," Clarissa lifted Hermione's right hand above her head, then turned Hermione around by her shoulder, "good form, very good. Balanced skin tone, pretty face, brown hair. Come along."

Hermione had to jog to keep up with the long strides of Clarissa. Clarissa picked out several extravagant gowns and dresses, blatantly ignoring Hermione's protests, and handed them back. Ginny carried them, and when the weight became too much, Narcissa carried a few. 

"Good," they had finally stopped in front of a dressing room, "try each of these on."

Hermione smiled, but inside she was dreading this. She had to try on all of those? Why couldn't she just pick one out, and they'd be done with it?

She picked the topmost one from Ginny's stack and locked the door of the trial room. After hopping about on one foot, getting her hair tangled in the zipper and accidentally tripping over her own clothing discarded on the floor, she opened the door.

The dress was a deep plum color, and had a v-neck so deep it was embarrassing. Not to mention the large slit on one side that ran from her waist till the bottom. 

"No, not this," Narcissa shook her head, Ginny copied her. 

"Next," Clarissa barked. Hermione picked a dress from Narcissa's hands and turned back into the trial room.

And thus it went for the next three hours. Getting in and out of those dresses was incredibly difficult and time consuming, and the fact that Hermione's hair was bushier than usual didn't help. For most of the dresses, either Ginny would tut and shove her back into the room, or all the three of them would disagree on it together. Some of the dresses weren't meant for Hermione at all, like the sleeveless one with no back, or the one that had a near transparent skirt. Some were "too plum-ish", some were "too many sequins", and some were "Merlin, 'Mione, you can't wear that!". Hermione blew a stray strand of hair from her face as she pulled the zip of dress number ninety seven closed. Huffing, she unlocked the door.

The pairs of eyes looked at her with mingled shock and awe. 

"Definitely."

"You look beautiful."

"It looks stunning on you, Hermione."

Hermione rather liked it as well. It was simple, but not plain or prude. It was unique and gorgeous, but not extravagant.

"I'll have this one," Hermione agreed. Clarissa clapped her hands.

"John, come pack this up!" she called to her assistant, who came sprinting down the aisles of dresses. He took the dress from Hermione once she'd taken it off and went to pack it up.

"That one actually costs around a hundred and ninety galleons," Clarissa said.

Hermione's eyes grew wide, "Oh, then I'll get something else!"

"However, I'll throw in a price deduction," Clarissa continued, "and request you to pay fifty less than the original price."

Before Hermione could say anything, Narcissa spoke, "Thank you, Clarissa."

Clarissa smiled and walked to the counter. Hermione turned to Narcissa, distraught, "But, that's too much! I can't possibly-"

"Take it as an early Christmas present," Narcissa winked at her.

"Thank you so much," Hermione didn't know what else to say. Narcissa gently squeezed her hands and walked off to pay the amount.

"She's really grown to like you over the past four months," Ginny mused.

"It doesn't feel like four months," Hermione sighed.

"Oh?"

"Yea," Hermione shrugged, "come on, let's go."

Hermione's feelings towards the woman had changed considerably. In fact, her whole view on her had changed. Narcissa Malfoy wasn't a cold hearted, refined pureblood witch. She wasn't just that. She was a human. She was a person, just like everyone else. She had lost her son and her husband and was lonely. Hermione felt a sort of indescribable feeling toward her. Not exactly love, but it was nearing that line. Narcissa Malfoy now occupied a large space in her heart. 

She felt awfully guilty about not telling her about Draco. But she knew it was for the best. If Narcissa ended up hurt, Hermione would never be able to forgive herself. 

"I'll leave you now, girls," Narcissa turned to Hermione and Ginny outside The Whispering Cloaks, "this has been lovely, we should come shopping more often."

"I'd love to," Ginny smiled warmly.

"Goodbye, both of you," Narcissa smiled at Ginny, and gave Hermione a warm hug before leaving.

"She's nice," Ginny said once Narcissa had disappeared amongst the throngs of people.

"She's lovely," Hermione agreed, "she's lonely. She misses Malfoy."

"Lucius is back now, isn't he?" Ginny questioned. They began walking down the cobbled pathways.

"Yes, he is," Hermione nodded.

"Not that it adds any light into her life," Ginny snorted, "not the jolly kind, Lucius. He's more of the long haired, stony faced, gloomy, spoilt brat kind of person."

"Have you gotten your own extravagant gown?" Hermione nudged Ginny, ignoring the rest of her words.

"Not extravagant, no," Ginny rubbed her hands together, "I'm wearing the dress mum wore for her and dad's first date. I had to alter the size, but otherwise it's perfect. I haven't shown Harry yet, it's a surprise."

"That sounds wonderful," Hermione said, "Do...I get to see it?"

"No," Ginny laughed, "you cheeky little idiot."

"Just asking," Hermione defended herself. 

-------

"Where were you?" 

Draco looked as though in a fit of rage. He was himself, and not Carson. Hermione cleared her throat awkwardly.

"I was out shopping," she said nonchalantly. 

"It's nearly ten, Granger!" Draco's words were laced with unexpressed fury, as he pointed to the wall clock, "Do you take that long to shop?"

"I stopped by at the library on the way to return some of the books," Hermione said, "why do I owe you an explanation? I don't need your permission to do things."

Draco looked like he had been punched in the face. In a second, he had turned it into a mask of indifference, "Fine."

Hermione didn't know what to feel. Her first question was, why should she feel anything at all with regard to Draco? Her second question, should she feel anything in regard to Draco? She didn't have an answer for either of the questions, but she knew she felt a shred of remorse at having worried him. After that time where she had lost herself, she had tried and tried not to think of him in any other way than a friend. Perhaps she had become too cold.

"Hold out your arm, please."

"No," Draco said defiantly.

"Draco," Hermione made her way to stand across him, "you really don't have a right to control me, you know."

"And you do?" Draco snapped back.

"I have never controlled you," Hermione said, "other than for healing."

"You're not the only one entitled to care for people," Draco took a step away from her, "other people care too."

"You," Hermione was suddenly finding it difficult to breathe, "you care for me?"

"I think it's natural to develop some kind of concern for the person you live with," Draco retorted instantly, "stay away from me."

Hermione watched silently as he stomped to his bedroom and slammed the door. The lock clicked in place. He was also probably smart enough to cast a ward on it. 

Why did Hermione feel guilty? Last time she'd checked, she didn't feel compelled to make sure Draco was okay with her going out. She had stopped herself from initiating physical reassurances, other than for healing purposes. What had changed?