Hermione ran her sweaty palms down the front of her short, skin-tight, strapless black velvet dress. Shuffling in her too-high black satin heels, which felt foreign on her normally trainer clad feet, she hesitated to round the corner. She felt like a ridiculous caricature of herself with her makeup so dark and bold, and her hair pulled into an elaborate updo that she would never normally wear. It took her half the afternoon to tame, even with the aid of glamour charms, just so she could sanguinely blend in and leave her neck exposed. She wanted to entice, she surmised.