Ginny, looking lovely in sea green robes and her long hair in a curly, up-style. She was in cheerful conversation with Neville Longbottom.
As if sensing her eyes on him, Harry glanced up at her. His glasses slipped down his nose a little and he righted this with the index finger that had previously been manhandling his canape. Harry looked endearingly handsome in dark formal robes with a quiet, white cravat at the neck.
He waved the canape (which was now just a plain oatmeal biscuit) in a beckoning manner.
Nick was also watching this. "Looks like Potter would like a word with you. Go ahead, I'll catch up."
It was probably time to move from her spot anyway, thought Hermione. The ice sculpture was making her shiver.
Still no sign of Draco.
She couldn't have cared less, of course, Hermione reminded herself yet again. She was there to accompany Nick, who in turn was there out of deference to Pansy, who was the type of witch to attend the opening of an envelope.
It would not do to avoid anything Draco-related for the rest of her life. They were bound to cross paths soon, weren't they?
But it didn't look like it was going to be tonight.
Some of the tension that had been vibrating like a compressed spring at in her belly eased. She couldn't help feeling like she was about to find out the results of NEWTS that she'd forgotten to study for.
Forcing a serene smile on her face, Hermione crossed the ballroom, edging around other guests who were standing and talking in smaller groups and couples. Her long skirt swirled around her legs as she moved.
"Hi," Harry said.
"Hi," replied Hermione, a little impatiently. "What is it?"
His eyebrows rose at her unusual curtness. "Nice to see you too. I didn' t realize that Winter fellow was also invited. Did you two come together?"
Harry was doing something he didn't do very often at all. He was being bitchy.
"Winter fellow?" Hermione repeated, annoyed. "Harry, you know I' m seeing him. I wish you'd be more agreeable about it."
"I can' t help it, I' m not fond of Ministry purse holders. They' ve already reduced our budget four times this year. And you're not really seeing him, are you?"
"We've been going out for six months!"
"Pfft," Harry said, wrinkling his nose. That's nothing."
"Just because it took you six years to land Ginny," Hermione bristled.
"I' m not sure I approve of the word 'land' " Ginny opinioned after Neville had walked off to have a word with Professor Sprout. "By the way, that colour looks beautiful on you, Hermione. Is that dress from Madam Lacroix's place?"
"Sorry, Ginny. And yes, it' s one of hers." To Harry Hermione hastily added, "I don't know why you don't like him. He can't help it about his job."
Harry was happy to elaborate. "He's a bit bookish. I'd prefer more of an outdoors type."
Hermione couldn't believe she was hearing this. "Well, good thing I'm dating him then, and not you."
Ginny spoke through a smile. "Shush you two, he's coming this way."
Nick arrived, as promised. "Hello, Harry, Ginny."
Ginny smiled back. "Hello Nicholas, how are you?"
"I'm very well, thank you. And you?"
"She's corking," Harry cut in. "Say Winter, would you do us a favour?"
"Us?" Hermione narrowed her eyes at Harry. There was no love lost between Harry and Nick ever since the most recent wave of enforced, Ministry budget cuts.
Nick paused, glanced at Hermione for a second and then said to Harry with the enthusiasm of one who has agreed to be the audience volunteer for a knife throwing demonstration, "Of course. What is it?"
"Paper clips."
Nick blinked. "Paper clips."
"Yeah," said Harry. "I'm putting in a requisition form for paper clips on Wednesday, but it's really urgent you see? We need them for important administrative purposes that can't wait. The thing is, my unit has exceeded our stationary allowance for the month already."
"Aurors have a stationary allowance?" Ginny muttered, to which Harry responded by hauling her to his side and putting his arm around her.
"You want me to allot you an advance on next month's allowance so your Aurors will havepaperclips?" Nick concluded dryly.
"Would you?" Harry beamed. "I mean, would you speak to your boss about it? I would be ever so grateful."
"Yes, I suppose-"
"That's good of you," Harry interjected once again. "Cawldash is right over there," Harry pointed to a portly, red-faced gentleman in a kilt, who had practically Accio'd a waiter for a top up.