"I… I can't wear that."

"And why the hell not?" Pansy snapped.

"Pansy, it's too much. The color is…and the cut…" She stammered while Pansy glared at her. "It will attract so much attention—"

"Have you heard nothing of what I've said? You are the 'Golden Girl.'" She lifted a brow. "You were deemed the most desirable. And now you're on the arm of the most important pure-blood heir — the youngest Death Eater." Pansy moved directly in front of her. "And you're telling me your place is in the background now?"

Hermione stared up at her, mouth slightly open, trying to form the words to explain her discomfort.

"Enough. Stop whining and put on your Gryffindor red," Pansy said.

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and drew a sharp breath. Pick your battles, she reminded herself. She took off her robe, clasped the bra, and let Pansy slide the dress over her torso, avoiding her eyes. It was a tight squeeze around her hips, and Pansy grinned as they let out a few seams.

"I meant what I said about your arse, Granger." Hermione blushed, and Pansy chuckled. "I miss it. Draco's never been as attentive to my arse and hips as when I was in your body."

Hermione's breath caught as a pleasant yet embarrassing heat slid through her veins. She looked down and met Pansy's smirk.

The clock chimed on her mantle, startling her. Ten o'clock already.

Pansy stood, grabbing a pair of golden heels. She cast a Comfort Charm on them that Hermione muttered a quiet "thanks" for. Hermione slid them on and locked the collar around her neck. Before she could walk to the door, Pansy stopped her.

She uncapped a lipstick, and held her jaw steady. Hermione jerked, realizing it was the same color Pansy had worn when she'd gone to Edinburgh in her body.

"Is that really necessary—"

"The lipstick is everything, Granger. Do you really think you can waltz out there in a red dress without red lips?" Pansy huffed. "Merlin, how you've gotten this far without me…"

Hermione rolled her eyes and let Pansy apply the lipstick, blotting when she demanded. She couldn't bear to look at herself in the mirror before the two of them moved downstairs. Pansy whispered instructions about not watching her shoes or fixing her posture, but all Hermione could focus on was the nervous energy buzzing in her veins — which promptly began to roar when she spotted Draco at the fireplaces.

His black robes, black trousers, black boots. His eyes trained on her legs as she descended. Hermione looked away, feeling warm all over. Pansy said her goodbyes and fixed a few of Hermione's stray curls. She'd meet them there with Blaise once she was Polyjuiced.

With a flash of green flames, she and Draco were left alone. When she looked at him again, she caught him staring at her face and hair before he turned and began leading them out.

She felt like a different person as she wobbled behind him. He paused for her at the bottom of the exterior stairs, and as she reached the last steps, his hand reached for hers to steady her. She looked at him quickly as her hand grasped his, and his gaze drifted across her neck before quickly looking away.