He'd barely managed it when she pushed back with all her might, breaking free of him and stumbling to her feet. The sound rushed back to the room as Flint grinned up at her, his thumb brushing over his lips. The boys pounded the table and howled.

"Your secret, Flint?" Hermione yelled over the din, staring down at him, resisting the urge to wipe her mouth.

Flint raised his hand to quiet the room, his new teeth shining proudly. "Your Weasley is alive, Granger. I saw him beaten and bloody at the Lestrange Estate last week, but he was still moaning when they kicked him."

She felt the blood drain from her face. There was noise somewhere in the room, but she couldn't decipher the sounds.

Ron was alive, but barely. The Lestrange Estate. Which one? Rabastan's or Rodolphus and Bellatrix's?

She tried to find the voice to ask, but her wrist was taken, an arm around her back, and then Draco was leading her out of the room. Pushing her, really. The game was over. Several others followed them out, passing Harper, moving down the stairwell.

Draco was silent. His hand on her hip was rigid as he guided her through the door, but she couldn't spare his temper a passing thought. Her mind was spinning with all the information she'd learned and the images her imagination conjured of Ron hanging on by a thread, bleeding on some manor floor. She walked the corridor in a daze, shoving her memories of Ron back into a closed book on the shelf, where he belonged.

Her mind tingled afterward, worn from the effort. She needed air. She needed space. Her lips still felt strange and dry from Flint's, and her dress felt too tight.

Draco steered her around another corner, and the sight of Charlotte waiting with a tray of drinks snapped Hermione out of her exhaustion. She was going into the Lounge. She was going into the Lounge, and she needed her wits about her. She turned to Draco and said, "I need to use the loo."

He glanced down at her sharply.

"I am allowed to relieve myself, yes?" she deadpanned.

He glared at her and tugged her to the left, around the booths full of laughing men and painted girls, towards a hallway on the left.

"There are guards inside," Draco said, his voice clipped. He pointed towards a ladies' room at the end of the hall. "Be quick about it."

Hermione paused, regretting making the request if she wouldn't have the proper space to be alone. Then she nodded and walked away without sparing him a second glance. She pushed open the door, finding an old tiled room with three stall doors for tourists visiting Edinburgh. A male guard stood near the sinks, his eyes roving over her with interest.

Hermione blushed, embarrassed at the thought of using the toilet with an audience. She hesitated in the doorway for half a second, and suddenly the door hit her as another person tried to enter. She moved aside, turning to apologize—