The offended man - not calling him a gentleman, for the scowl he directs at Astrid alone - flounces off muttering some form of protest, but Hermione doesn't pay him much mind.

"My hero," she says, undeniably amused, and pats Astrid's arm. (Nice.) "You look very dashing." Credit where it's due, and the credit is very much due here - Astrid looks lovely, and still very much like herself despite the fancy clothes. (Maybe in this iteration of the dream, whatever is causing it to happen - spirit, demon, pixie - has learned a lesson and not made Hermione forget who her Riftwatchers are.)

"Ah, here," she murmurs, reaching up to tuck one such stray strand back into place in the updo, gently. "Must've come loose in the kerfuffle."

(Somewhere in the background, the orchestra plays Teenage Dream by Katherine de la Perrie.)