The dark-haired girl didn't look in her direction as they approached. Draco took the lead, nodding at unfamiliar faces while Hermione's eyes kept darting back to Cho as covertly as possible. Her chest stung with the desire to call to her. To rip out of Draco's hold and run to embrace her. Instead she dug her nails into her palms, forcing a look of neutral disinterest at everything she saw.

Perhaps Cho felt the same. Maybe that's why she simply tilted her face away from Mulciber as they passed, a deep swallow of her champagne, and a flicker of her fingers against the glass.

Draco led her towards the other side of the room near the fireplace, and she scanned briefly for a vase of Floo powder before focusing on who they were headed towards.

Avery.

Hermione felt her heart in her throat. This man owned Ginny. She was probably stashed away at his estate at this very moment.

"Aron," Draco greeted. Avery turned from where he was laughing with a dark-haired woman. He held a cigar between his teeth, and Hermione coughed lightly as they passed through a cloud. "My father sends his regrets that he missed your celebration last weekend."

"Draco." Avery took Draco's offered hand in a firm shake, his gaze quickly skimming over Hermione. "Of course, not a problem. I know he's off… where is it again?" He leaned closer, eyes twinkling as he inhaled a deep puff of smoke.

Hermione felt the hand on her back stiffen. "Unfortunately, I couldn't say. The mission was between my father and the Dark Lord."

Avery nodded, his smirk fading a bit around his cigar. He gestured to the woman to his right, and Hermione noticed she was not wearing a collar. Her dress was long and elegant, sweeping to the floor, her hair twisted in a low chignon unlike all the collared girls.

"Madame Minister, may I present Draco Malfoy."

Hermione eyed her carefully as Draco kissed her knuckles with a bow. This woman was the Greek Minister for Magic — Eleni Cirillo. Her chest tightened in anticipation. Minister Cirillo was a pureblood, the prominence of her family lineage dating back for centuries in Greece and Italy. Her policies and offhand comments had always carried a tinge of blood supremacy — something she'd vehemently denied to the press in the years before Voldemort's rise.

"Malfoy?" she asked, arching one perfect brow. "Lucius's son?"

"Yes, Madame Minister. Please accept my apologies on his behalf that he couldn't escort you himself."

Avery stared at Draco, eyes narrowing as he took a deep sip of his glass.

"Please send my regards to your father. It's been ages." Draco politely inclined his head while the Minister turned her eyes on Hermione. With a sultry dip of her gaze to her chest, the Minister said, "And who do we have here?"

"Hermione Granger," Draco said, and she could hear the smirk in his voice. "My Lot."

"Indeed?" Minister Cirillo's eyes glittered. "The Golden Girl I've heard so much about." She stepped forward and reached a delicate hand to twirl one of Hermione's curls between her fingertips. "Well, isn't she stunning." She dropped her curl, brushing the backs of her fingers against Hermione's breast. Hermione gasped.