"Hmm," Blaise replies, not drawn in by Hermione’s attempt at small talk. Instead, he inclines his head, and they set off. She has to take two steps to every one of his, but soon they find a rhythm. Not for the first time—and probably not the last—the unreality of the situation points itself out. Walking alongside Blaise Zabini, without a hex on the tip of her tongue. Walking with him to an undisclosed second location, and only feeling the good kind of butterflies. How the turns table.