Hermione couldn't help a giggle, imagining Harry's jeans strolling about 12 Grimmauld Place of their own volition.
She folded her hands primly on top of her papers and shifted in her seat, crossing her legs in the other direction. She was glad the business-y bit was out of the way. It was always odd approaching friends in an official capacity, even if it was for something frivolous like the gala.
"I really am, I think," she agreed with a grin, regarding the bakery. "I'm certain I've put on ten pounds since I started going there."
Not that anyone seemed to mind. If anything, it helped her play the bombshell role when she sang, feeling curvy and voluptuous. Still, she was aware when her trousers got tight. It was not, however, a good enough reason to discontinue her very regular visits to the bakery.
Her grin fell at Harry's question. When the date for the gala had gotten close and Harry hadn't said anything, Hermione had assumed he had plans already in place for the evening.
"Oh, Harry. Ron asked me to go with him ages ago. It didn't even occur to me that he'd ask me like that if you didn't have plans with someone. I guess he learnt his lesson from the Yule Ball." She bit her lip, feeling awful. "I'd love to go together, all three of us, though. Should I ask him?"