Midnight came and went and yet, Hermione was still socializing amongst the cretins she hadn't been sorry to be away from for a year. She didn't understand why it was necessary that the infernal event last into the early morning hours. Every single word that came out of the insipid guests’ mouths was worthless, tedious. How was it possible that she once enjoyed being present at those farces? They used to give her the opportunity to show off, to assert her own superiority over the worst of the Pureblood supremacists. None of them were ever foolish enough to outwardly insult or challenge her. Not with her influence with the Dark Lord or her deadly husband always eager to defend her name. At Nott's hideous reception, however, she wasn't enjoying playing any of her old games.