She opened her mouth to break the silence, to ask about the spell, and question the research, but the words died in her throat as the fireplace burned green, and Lucius Malfoy stepped through.

And her heart thumped in her chest.

Lucius glanced at her, dressed in white silk, waiting for him on a bed.

Draco stepped forward, pulling a book from his robes and flipping it open.

"From the Germanic. I've checked the translation. It's accurate." He met his father at the fireplace. "I've outlined the steps. The candle, the blood, the incantation—"

Lucius Malfoy raised a hand, halting his son. He took the book from him and peered down, turning the pages. The air around Draco seemed to buzz with a dark, twisting energy as he waited for permission to speak again.

A page turned, and Lucius paused, his brow arched. Hermione watched his eyes move quickly over the same passage until they lifted to her.

The book snapped shut. Lucius assessed her and said, "And if it doesn't work?"

"It will." Draco's mouth was in a hard line.

"And if it doesn't?"

"Then I'll think of something else."

But Lucius was staring at her. She blinked at him, feeling the question under her skin.

If this doesn't work, will you do this the easy way?

She swallowed, and tilted her head into the tiniest of nods.

Lucius's eyes returned to the text, browsing the words lazily, casually, like one might window shop at Diagon Alley. He was supposed to be in Romania. He was only permitted emergency Floo calls. They'd brought him in for an illicit dark ritual, and he had the nerve to act as if they had all the time in the world.

As if all of their lives weren't at stake.

Draco's fingers twitched. Narcissa's breath stirred her hair.

Lucius closed the book and handed it back to Draco. He looked at the mantle clock and turned to her. "Ready."

"Let me see the book," Hermione said, voice too loud for the quiet room. "Let me read it first—"

"There's no time, Miss Granger," Lucius said, and she could hear the sneer in his voice as he crossed to the unlit candle by her bed.

"What does it do?" She turned her neck to look up at Narcissa, who was pressing her lips together and fixing a disappointed glare across the room. Hermione swiveled in the direction of her gaze to find Draco near the windows, watching silently.

"There's no need to worry, dear," Narcissa whispered into her ear.

Lucius struck the match. And the flames hissed out in the fireplace.

The only light in the room was from the two candles, casting shadows against their cheekbones and chins.

Narcissa crossed her legs and guided Hermione to lay with her head in her lap. She stared at the canopy as her mind raced.

Who was coming? What were they looking for? Why now?

And then all thoughts of possibilities swept from her mind as Lucius Malfoy climbed into her bed.