"I think this goes under,’ her mother had said, looking at a kind of linen chemise with a quizzical, slightly frightened expression. Hermione, swallowing down the lump in her throat, had nodded, grabbed the chemise, and marched into the bathroom to strip out of the strange not-a-corset-not-a-bra that they’d laced her torso into. It felt much better with the chemise under it.