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The woman's eyes grew wide, expression vacillating wildly between shocked and appalled, and shook her head in what seemed to be terror. She took out a slice, inspected it and deemed it appropriately bready, and turned to Lady Snub-Nose, silently holding out the slice in offering. Hermione gave no indication that she'd noticed the gasp from her neighbor, working the tie of the package open calmly and opening it up, the plastic crinkling once again.
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She waited until everyone else seemed to be seated, the room settling into a somber quiet, and then opened the bag.įrom it, she pulled out a full plain loaf of bread in a crinkly plastic package that was incredibly loud in the quiet of the room and drew the attention of literally everyone.
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She sat gracefully, ignoring the look of shock from the snub-nosed pureblood witch she sat beside and placed her beaded bag on her lap. She walked to the front of the rows of chairs arranged for the event, right in front of the portraits of the men, who sneered at her in disdain and looked to be holding back comments only for the sake of the dignity of their own funeral. She had arrived in a funeral-appropriate black dress, hair carefully done up in a formal updo, sparse but well-applied makeup on her face. First of all, she'd decided to go to the funeral of Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange, which was already unexpected. Hermione Granger, brightest witch of her age, war hero, Golden Girl, and all around "good girl", was acting strangely.