Smiling at the memory, Hermione padded into the adjoining bathroom. Every morning it was a house-servant’s job to fill the palatial tub with water heated in the kitchens. She slid into its still-steaming warmth and emerged half an hour later, her light brown skin flushed. Today was a special occasion: although she had no intention of dancing with any of the noblemen invited, she would certainly be present in her role as spymistress. The black-and-gold silk dress robes she slipped on were suitably fashionable without drawing any unnecessary attention to herself.