"A few weeks ago, she broke a champagne glass and sliced the neck of a guard and the aide to the Hungarian Minister. Both are dead."

Hermione scarcely breathed, feelings the words like a bucket of water over her head. She tried to imagine Ginny, running feral through the Lounge with the jagged stem of a crystal glass in her hand. She pressed her eyes closed, and said, "And I assume she didn't get away with this?"

When Draco did not respond, she looked to him and found him staring out one of the Conservatory windows, eyes far away.

"Malfoy."

"No, she did not get away with it."

A deep breath. She crossed her arms, holding her cardigan closed.

"And?" she prompted.

"She was disciplined. Publicly."

"Tell me what happened to her. I can handle it. I've seen what happens at these parties—"

His face snapped back to her and he hissed, "You haven't seen anything, Granger."

Her blood froze in her veins, and she fought to appear calm as she stared back at him. "I have a right to know. I'm not a child, Malfoy."

A long pause. "She was taken into the Lounge." He ran a hand through his hair. "Where Avery made an example of her. In several ways, which I'm sure you can imagine."

Somewhere, there was a lake with still waters. But a tempest was brewing over the one in her mind's eye.

"Were there others?"

"Just him, though there were spectators. She was in no shape afterward to be shared. I was…" Draco cleared his throat. "I only saw the very end of it."

She spun to face the violet flowers she favored most in this greenhouse, gasping silently. She couldn't let him see her lose control. Fighting to steady her breathing and clear the images that flashed through her mind, she stood tall, blinking until her eyes stopped burning and she could see clearly again.

There would be another time to process what had happened to Ginny. But for now she had a role to play. She'd convinced him she could handle the truth, and that's exactly what she intended to do. Ignoring the buzzing in her ears and the tightness in her chest, she forced her shoulders to relax. She thought of Ginny as she stared at the purple hues, suffering torture and rape daily at Avery's estate. Had it been worth it?

Her own treatment at Edinburgh Castle had been tame. Draco had seen to that. But she'd still seen enough to enrage her. She could be like Ginny, finding the fire to slice at them, even if it meant her own death.

Or she could give into her helplessness and behave like Draco asked her to — push it all away at home and thank the gods that she didn't have to suffer like the others. But she'd been given signs of hope by girls who had no business hoping. A grape. Her hand grabbed under the table by nine others with glass in their knees.