Remain Nameless

Chapter 41

Hermione didn't know whether she wanted to laugh, cry, or scream. She settled for a startling combination of all three, which was probably why Harry stood frozen in a mixture of concern and fear at the threshold of her bedroom.

"Hermione are you... what have you got on?"

An excellent question. "I—I—I have no bloody clue!" she shrieked and flapped her arms at her reflection in the mirror.

Hermione had arrived home from work that evening to a gift box on her kitchen table. She sighed as she lifted the lid and read the curt message penned by Draco's mother. They'd agreed to attend family holiday events together this year and Hermione acquiesced to accompanying Draco to his mother's infamous New Year's Eve gala. In an effort to be kind to Narcissa and in the Christmas spirit, Hermione further agreed to allow Narcissa's favored tailor design her dress robes for the event.

The rich fabric seemed to go on endlessly as Hermione lifted the heavy garment from the box and tried to put it on. This turned into more of a battle, as Hermione gracelessly struggled with all sorts of under layers and discreet fastenings, and buggering hell where were her arms supposed to go?

By the time she could poke her head through the top opening and furiously jab her wand over her shoulder to do up the lacing and buttons down the entire back (including the train, because Merlin forbid this outfit not have its own gravitational pull) Harry had popped through the Floo.

In her haste to try on her custom robes, she'd completely forgotten Harry was meant to come over to discuss Ginny's Christmas presents. Instead of calm, rational Hermione who would talk him down every year from going overboard on his wife's gift, her poor friend walked in on Hermione having a complete meltdown at her own reflection when she'd finally caught sight of herself.

"Is that for the Malfoys' party?" Harry guessed.

"Yes, Narcissa sent it over. And I look—I look—"

"Expensive?" supplied Harry.

"Yes! Do you know what Malfoy asked me last week?"

"Err... should I?"

"He asked me if I thought the silver material of my robes would clash horribly with the gold brocade waistcoat he was having made."

"And, um, would it?"

Hermione threw up her hands in exasperation. "Gold brocade, Harry! Gold. Brocade. I can't do this, look at me! I'm one ornate hat shy of looking like the Tsarina!"

Harry sank onto her bed next to Crookshanks (leisurely giving himself a bath atop Hermione's discarded work robes) and pushed his glasses up his nose.

"I feel like I'm supposed to know what that means, but I confess you've lost me. Want me to fetch Ginny?"

Hermione nodded, unable to tear her eyes away from the stranger in the mirror as she heard Harry get up and move back toward the living room.

"Harry," she called over her shoulder. "You should get Ginny the 'Mummy and Me' broom she's had her eye on. And a Harpies kit for your future little one."

She could hear the smile in his voice when he called back his thanks and left through the fire. Not 10 minutes later, Ginny now stood frozen at her threshold, a wide-eyed Padma at her back.

"Oh wow, Hermione, Harry wasn't kidding when he said you were wearing a 'dress robe thingy that is just so Malfoy.'"

Hermione narrowed her eyes as the women giggled and came closer to inspect the finery, carefully avoiding the train. She truly hadn't been exaggerating with her quip about the Tsarina; she's fairly certain she appeared straight out of a Romanov portrait. The bell sleeves extended almost to the floor, which meant an irksome amount of shaking her arms back if she wanted to do anything with her hands. The gorgeous material, a combination of silks, satin, and silver brocade, draped her frame well and created a decent silhouette, if a bit more shapeless than she'd normally wear.