He placed his utensils down and sucked in a sharp breath. "This is your master plan, Granger?"

"Yes. We need to be more comfortable to put on a convincing show." She twisted her fingers around each other. "We could both use a bit of rehearsal—"

"That won't be necessary."

"I disagree. You saw that stunt Flint pulled, and he'll try it again if we keep giving him reasons to—"

"This whole idea is just childish—"

"What's childish is that you can't bear to touch me!"

"I touch you enough, it's absurd you're asking for more—"

"—and although it's quite obvious that I physically repulse you—"

A dry laugh burst from him.

Her nostrils flared. "I don't know how you behave towards girls you're sleeping with, Malfoy, but if this is your idea of intimacy, then you clearly need more help than I could ever offer—"

His hand darted out and grabbed her opposite hip, tugging her into his lap. She swallowed her squeak and steadied herself on the table, heart pounding. In an attempt to save her dignity, she lifted her chin, shifting until she could sit properly. It seemed it was no less difficult to find a balanced position in her jeans and trainers than it was in a short dress and heels.

"What now, Granger?" he rumbled, and she felt it vibrate through her ribcage.

The tips of her ears burned. "Just… behave normally. Like this is… normal." She cleared her throat and reached for her wine, stretching back to her table setting. "Eat dinner as if I'm not even here."

Draco seemed to take a long, slow breath before picking up his fork again. He pushed his vegetables around, staring at his peas intently.

Hermione refused to stare at her lap — too stiff. She had a few choices. She could awkwardly stare at his face. She could watch him play with his food. Or, the safest option: she could stare at his neck, studying the way the pink blush had spread under her gaze.

"How often do the boys play cards at dinner?" she asked softly, and she watched his throat bob as he swallowed.

"They play maybe every other week. There's no schedule," he said.

"And that's not dangerous? To have the girls as witnesses?"

"They removed their memories after the first two times, but there were complaints that the girls were too addled afterwards. So everyone just... risks it, I suppose. The girls have been instructed to be discreet."

Hermione frowned. Arrogant and barbaric. She thought of the strawberry-blonde and her intent eyes during the game, listening to every detail. The Carrow Girls may be under a tight leash, but they had access to a wealth of knowledge.

She steadied her heartbeat and asked the question she'd been fearing.

"Is there anything else I should know about the night Pansy went as me?"

His jaw tightened as he chewed. He shook his head and reached for his wine glass.

"Are you positive?" she pressed. "I was caught off guard on Friday, and it got us into a situation—"