Dance with me, Malfoy

Part Three

"We will be waiting in the car for you!" her mom announced.

"Be down soon!" she called back as she rummaged through her beaded purse for the perfect coat to go with her look. Hermione was nothing else, if not stylish; everything from her Indian red pants to her black cable knit sweater and her cream flats screamed chic sophistication. She, like her father and her granddad before them, took great pride in her impeccable taste in clothes and manners. "Here they are," she said finding her cream coat and plaid scarf just in time to hear her father honk. "Ugh," she complained under her breath as she acciod her wayfarer sunglasses and apparated to the main foyer only to run out to meet her parents in the car. "What in the world?" she said once she had cleared the icy pavement and found respite from the cold in the warm interior. "When did you get a new car?"

"Do you like it?" His father asked, happily showcasing his newest purchase, "it's a Land Rover. The Queen drives the same one."

"Does she really?" Hermione asked impressed that the Queen, now in her seventies, still drove.

"Uh-huh!" he said searching in the glove compartment for a tape.

"It's very nice, but—"

"Expensive?" her mum supplied with a laugh.

"I was going to say unnecessary, but that too, I guess."

"Bah! You cannot take money with you to the other side, ladies," her father said as he begun the hour-long drive to London. "Besides, we have never hurt for money, especially since we sold the practice."

"There are more worthwhile endeavors than new cars, love," her mum pointed out.

"She's right," Hermione called out from the back seat, "like charities and medical research."

"And we do donate to both, but if you wish we can redouble efforts this year," her father granted as he pushed in a tape. "Can't you two just be happy for dear old me and sing along?" chuckling at his antics, the whole family belted the lyrics to 'Here Comes the Sun'.

***

"I love it," Hermione stated hours later as she stood in front of the mirror.

"Oh, thank God in the heavens!" sighed out her mother, who looked like she was about ready to collapse.

"Are you sure?" Her father asked ignoring his beloved wife. "I think it is quite plain, darling. I though your lot was a lot more, I don't know, over the top?" Hermione knew her father did not mean offense by his statement, so she simply continued looking at the way the rich fabric of the minimalist dress hung off her shoulders by the thinnest of spaghetti straps.

"I think she looks lovely," her mother supplied.

"You just want to go home," Hermione and her father laughed.

"True," her mother said coming to stand close to her, squeezing Hermione's shoulders lovingly, "but that does not negate the fact that you look like a vision in red."

"I am glad you like it," she said holding onto her mum's hands, "because dad is correct; this dress is not for my crowd, but for yours. I have decided to accompany you to Fitzwilliam's party."

"Pretty sure it is PM Alexander Baker's party," her mum said with a smile. "but thank you, Hermione."

"To be clear, though, I am doing this for you, mum."

"I know, sweetheart." Hermione nodded, closing the subject. "So, if this is your Christmas dress, what is your New Year's dress?" her mum asked.

"Someone get a camera quickly," her father said playfully, "Hellen Granger has just volunteered for further shopping!"