"Not Dragon Pox after all. But she was disgusting. Pocks and puss." Draco made a face, and when he turned over his shoulder, he glared at her. "You tired? Can't stand straight?"

Every eye turned on her. And she realized that every girl was standing tall, waiting to be called upon. She pushed up from the windowsill.

"No, sir."

A chorus of chuckling trembled the room. And she remembered what he'd said.

Obedient, but not broken.

"I'm just not used to wearing heels. Sir."

The room held its breath. And then Draco's eyes flashed at her while the table erupted with laughter.

"Have quite a handful with her, don't you?"

"Pour her a glass of wine!"

"You gonna tell the Headmaster on us, Granger?"

"Tell you what, Granger," Blaise Zabini said with a smirk. "You can have a break from your footwear if Draco allows you to sit on my lap for the rest of the night."

The boys howled, and Blaise winked at her. Draco cleared his throat, scowling. "She will do no such thing." The laughter petered out, though the corners of Blaise's mouth twitched behind his glass.

"Merlin's sack, Malfoy," Theo Nott murmured. "Why bring her?" He leered at her and chuckled. "Oh, how the mighty have fallen. I was so looking forward to Granger being Head Girl last year." His innuendo landed on her skin like ice water. "We should give her a chance to earn her title."

Montague snorted into his wine, and Flint's fingers danced along the rim of his glass.

"A shame indeed, Theo," Draco said smoothly, "seeing as I've heard rumors that you were a shoe-in for Head Boy. You could have shared the 'head' duties quite nicely."

Blaise spit up his wine, laughing into his sleeve. Flint and Pucey giggled drunkenly. Theo glared at Draco. "What the fuck is that supposed—"

Draco stood suddenly, cutting him off. "Pucey? Will you do the honors?" He nodded to the pig in the middle of the table. "I'm starving."

Adrian Pucey stood with a smirk, and produced a carving knife. Hermione listened to the boys chat while each girl approached Pucey to take a plate to their escort. Susan Bones retrieved Goyle two servings, and he thanked her with a tweak to her nipple through her thin dress. Hermione moved around the table to Pucey's side when it was her turn; she could feel him watching her as the conversation continued, eyes raking her body.

"She looks pampered, Malfoy," Pucey said, twirling his knife, Hermione's heartbeat quickened as he began spinning the blade on his thumb. "Do you have any fun with her at all?"

They laughed. And she glanced to Mortensen, who stood behind Pucey's chair peeling an orange for him with her eyes glued to his knife as it spun.

"You know how much I paid for her, Adrian," Draco drawled. "Of course I bathe her in milk and lavender every night."

Flint laughed. But Pucey's eyes were darting across her skin. Hermione drew in a slow breath, trying to think about how she should react. It was true that she was at a healthy weight. She had limited sunlight these days; all freckles from her year on the run had vanished—