Her eyes flitted through the rest of the room, desperate to discover more of them. Sally Fawcett in a corner with a much older man, her neck tilted to the side as he brushed his lips across her skin. Hannah Abbott in a slip even shorter than the others', her limbs skinny and pale, holding a full glass of champagne with haunted eyes. Alicia Spinnet with her arms slung around the shoulders of an unfamiliar man, swaying to the music with a listless smile on her face. Some stood tall and proud at their captors' sides like a treasured concubine, whereas others shrunk into themselves, like used and beaten toys their owners would one day tire of.

Draco sipped his champagne as they moved forward, his arm slithering around her back, his hand landing on her opposite hip. She leaned into the embrace for the benefit of any watchful eyes, a shiver passing over her skin.

"Malfoy!" Blaise Zabini swaggered toward them with Theo Nott on his heels. Blaise smirked and slid his eyes over her. "Finally let her out of her cage, I see."

"Of course," Draco's voice lilted. He threw back the rest of his champagne glass. "She's been ill. Disgusting to look at, really."

Blaise's lips twitched, but he said nothing. Theo snorted and sipped his champagne.

Hermione looked past them, trying to catch a glimpse of Cho again, then froze — aware of a drop in the room's volume. They had caught the attention of half the hall. Eyes turned to her, Lots and Death Eaters alike. They murmured in low voices to each other, whispering and nodding toward them, and she felt her cheeks burn as unfamiliar gazes traced her knees, her chest, Draco's hand on her hip. A slight squeeze, and she looked up, refocusing on what Zabini and Theo were saying, as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

"We're already set up in the suite," Theo said, a casual insolence in his tone. "You're almost late."

"But I'm not, am I?" Draco snapped with a quick smile. Hermione felt her skin prickle at the mention of a suite. "Collect your girls. I'll meet you there."

"For someone so concerned with timeliness—"

"Do fuck off, Theo," Draco cooed. He grinned at Zabini as Theo glared and steered Hermione between them, making sure to knock Theo's shoulder on his way.

Hermione felt her legs turn to jelly as they swept through the crowd of people staring at them.

"Suite?" she whispered.

He waited until they passed a pair of older men sipping scotch before answering, "Do not speak to me in this room."

She flinched when he said it, like a slap against her skin. But her logic whispered that she should hear something else. You may speak in a different room.

Perhaps the "suite."

Her control slipped, mind running wild with thoughts of a hotel suite with a luxurious bed where she and other girls would be forced to do unspeakable things—

She blinked, zeroing on in her new focus. Cho.