"I'm doing what I'm supposed to," she snarled. "If you'd just calm down—"

"You can't just sit in a bloke's lap and kiss his neck, Granger!"

She blinked at him, breathing quickly as he dragged a hand through his hair.

"And why not? That is precisely what happens at Edinburgh—"

"That's Edinburgh!" he snapped. "This is here, in my house!"

Her eyes were wide as she watched him move toward the exit.

"What is your problem? We're practicing—!"

"You cannot be this daft," he muttered, striding out of the dining room.

She stormed after him, stopping at the doorway.

"We're not done, Malfoy! I expect you at dinner tomorrow evening!"

He disappeared around a corner, and Hermione cursed under her breath, throwing her arms in the air.

She stomped to the table, drained her glass of wine, and finished her plate — and his, too, in case he planned to summon it later.

~*~

After sending an elf to Draco's room with a formal invitation to supper, Hermione spent the rest of her Monday Occluding.

She was perfectly prepared to spend another meal in his lap again, and she'd work harder to convince him of the necessity. Pushing away her stray thoughts about the scent of his skin and the warmth of his chest against her side, she focused on Ginny. She focused on how to stay in the game.

At a quarter till eight, she made her way downstairs. She was still waiting for him to arrive at 8:05, glaring into her wine glass despite her self-assurance that she'd be less reactive this time. At 8:12, she finally heard footsteps dragging across the stones. When she turned to lift a brow at him, he looked very much like a child that had been dragged with his parent to the office for the day — scowling with bored eyes, resigned to having a terrible time.

"Good evening," she lilted sarcastically.

He shuffled to his place at the table without a word. Once he was seated, she stood, poured his wine, and sat determinedly in his lap, as if daring him to object. His expression didn't change as she tugged her plate of food closer, sipped her wine, or munched on the finger food that Remmy had sent as their first course.

"I have another question," she said primly, breaking the silence. He didn't respond, ignoring her gaze boring into him as he drank deeply from his wine. "Where is your father?"

That earned her a scowl, and he plunked his glass back on the table. "You know I can't tell you that."

"You were about to gamble that information away on Friday."

"I knew I was going to win."

"You tied. That was hardly winning." She felt his ribs expand against hers with a deep breath. "You were only going to name the country," she continued, in a gentler tone. "You can't even give me that?"

The expression that flashed through his eyes momentarily stunned her. A softness that told her maybe she could ask anything of him. She blinked at him over her wine glass, and it was gone.