She stepped forward as Draco plucked up his cards. Grabbing the decanter of wine, she refilled his almost full glass to look busy, and as he rearranged his cards, she brushed her fingers over his collar. "Do you have a good hand?" she murmured, doing her best to imitate Pansy's purr.

His jaw tightened for a split second. "Excellent," he said, with a confident flick of his eyes to meet Flint's.

Flint smirked, then turned his gaze on her. "How are those heels tonight, Granger?" His gaze ran over her. "If you need to sit, you know my lap's always free."

Before she could craft a response, Draco's hand was on her hip, pulling her downward without even looking up from his cards. The boys laughed.

She landed across both his legs, the right side of her chest pressing against his left. With how short and tight the dress was, she was forced to shift herself until her legs crossed, her arm slung behind Draco's shoulder. Draco provided no assistance.

Pucey started by rolling the dice, grinning down at the result. The glyphs on the sides were different than the ones she'd seen the Weasleys play with, so she gave up trying to summon the little she remembered. After the first hand was swept away, Flint called for wagers.

"Let's make it good this time, gentlemen." He nodded at Montague. "You first."

"I have the names of two defectors at the Ministry."

Flint rolled his eyes. "That's terribly dull, Graham."

"Well, that's what I have," Montague grumbled.

"Then think of something better. I'm not risking what I know for something my grandmother could have told me."

He turned his eyes on Pucey, who cleared his throat. "I have news on France."

"I'll take that," Flint said. "I'll raise you a sighting of Johnson."

Hermione's mouth felt dry, and she resisted the urge to lean forward. They were wagering secrets — sensitive topics about the war. The outside world.

She chanced a look around the table and found the strawberry-blonde meeting eyes with another Carrow Girl before quickly glancing away, reaching for a slice of cheese off Theo's plate.

"Intriguing, Flint. Who's your source?"

"Well, you'll have to beat my hand to find out, won't you Cass?"

"Goyle?" Montague asked. "Are you in? Anything new on your father?"

But Goyle was nuzzling into Susan's neck, content to fold.

"I have news on Dung. Spotted outside Edinburgh tonight," Derrick said.

"That old pikey. What's he selling now?"

"You'll just have to beat my hand to find out."

"Draco?" Flint asked. "Are you in?"

Hermione felt every pair of eyes turn on them. She glanced down to Draco's hand, unable to tell if what he had was sufficient to win. He plucked a card from the middle and replaced it on the end.

"I'm in." He tilted his head, and Hermione felt his hair tickle her neck. "Anyone interested to know who it was that skipped through the boundary at Dover last month?"