Soft classical music floated through the large ballroom as witches and wizards in expensive formal robes drifted around making horrifically boring small talk. Hermione smiled politely at the short portly Auror, who had not stopped talking for five minutes straight, standing in front of her. She was fairly certain he wasn’t breathing in between his sentences at all. Her eyes scanned around the room looking for an excuse to exit the tedious conversation without looking rude. No matter how many of these galas she had to attend over the years, she never got used to them. She never felt like she belonged at fancy events. The ones right after the war, put together in their honor, were the worst ones. She was unable to blend into the background at those. Luckily, this was not such an event. 