"Now there was a pair of lips I'd like around my cock," Montague continued. "Wish Avery would have given me a turn when he was done with her—"

Goyle's glass shattered — a spray of crystal shards across the dinner table. Fruit and cheese exploding outwards and bouncing away. The boys scattered to their feet, and a pressure released in her chest as Draco spun her body away, his wand already in his hand.

Looking down at his hand in amazement, Goyle flexed his fingers, glass and blood in his palm. Susan crawled out from under the table.

Hermione breathed deep.

Her magic.

Draco looked down at her in shock, his chin bumping her nose. He sat her upright, his arms releasing their grip.

Marcus Flint was the first to start laughing. "Merlin, Goyle! Don't get too excited!"

Pucey and Montague joined, jostling Goyle — ribbing him for squeezing his glass so hard that it shattered.

"You'd think he'd never been sucked off before!"

"Serves you right for starting the fun too soon."

Goyle smiled as he adjusted his trousers, assuming responsibility. Blaise reentered with arms full of bottles, and laughed as he took in the scene. Flint, with a smarmy grin, turned to the girls around the table and said, "Ladies. On all fours."

Draco's fingers twitched on her ribs, and he glared at Flint.

"I want every piece of glass picked up, every bit of food gathered, and every boot kissed," Flint said, grinning at Draco. Several of the girls had already dropped to their knees, gathering glass.

Hermione tried to calm her racing heart. Losing control like she just had was too dangerous. She pushed away all thoughts of Ginny and tucked them into a corner of her bookshelf. Standing to start cleaning up, she was stopped by Draco's hand on her wrist.

"Think your Mudblood is too good to do our cleaning, Draco?"

"I do, actually. I don't usually let 65,000 Galleons drop on the floor."

Hermione looked back and forth between them. Every other girl had gone to their knees, beginning to clean while the boys watched and started drinking again.

"She's still just a Mudblood," Flint said slowly, a smirk parting his lips to reveal his perfect, new teeth. "Right, Draco?"

There was a challenge in his voice, and Draco stared him down. She watched Blaise pop a bottle of champagne with ease, his eyes on Flint and Draco with an air of indifference.

Draco released her wrist. She quickly fell to her knees, relishing the first time in hours that there weren't thousands of eyes on her. She crawled forward, feeling glass digging into her palms and knees, and savored the pain of it. She had to be strong — for Ginny, for Ron. For Harry. For all of the slaves who were suffering horrors and fighting battles Hermione could only imagine.

But while plucking up pieces of cheese and bread and siphoning out the glass, the laughter started again, threatening her resolve. Tears filled her eyes once more, and she sniffed, barely holding them at bay.