Hermione looks at herself in the mirror, the bright navy contrasting against Marion’s skin. There are delicate pearl buttons down the front, and pleating across her breasts. It’s a beautiful dress, unlike anything in Marion’s wardrobe. The clothes and shoes in her wardrobe reflect her pureblood upbringing more than Hermione suspects Marion would like to admit. As long as she inhabits this body she supposes it wouldn’t hurt to update her fashion beyond the tulle and velvet no matter the weather. How was getting along in the summer wearing so much bloody wool and tweed? And how was she carrying on wearing heels while running and fighting for her life?