"Jik takes you now. Dinner this way."

Hermione scowled as Jik turned in a circle, his right knee pivoting with difficulty, and limped toward a dark hallway. There was blood trickling behind his ear, dripping down to his neck.

She felt her chest burn as she followed Lucius and Narcissa. Jik had clearly been freshly tortured, and then told to retrieve the guests. She'd never seen an elf in poorer shape, and that included the beheaded ones on the walls at Grimmauld Place—

Cold fingers tapped her wrist. She looked up to see Draco, fully Occluded, staring off after his parents.

"Focus, Granger." The only words he'd spoken to her in days.

She nodded, and his fingers drifted off her skin before he began moving again. By the time they caught up to Lucius and Narcissa at two large doors, Hermione was thinking only of a lake with still waters, and a book laid open on the shore titled, Afternoon Tea.

The doors pushed open with a tortured creak, and Jik stepped aside. The party paused at the entrance. Hermione's eyes caught on a grand chandelier with burnt-down candles and dripping wax. Similar sconces decorated the black walls, and there was a massive oil painting sprawling the width of the far wall. The magical landscape depicted a battle from Roman times with soldiers running through the field and slaughtering each other.

Narcissa moved first, followed by Lucius. Once Hermione's vision cleared, she found a large table set for a formal dinner. A branching candelabra lay in the center like an overturned Acromantula, its candlelight illuminating the rest of the room. Hermione steadied her breathing as she skimmed the faces staring back at them — more than she'd expected.

Chairs scraped.

"Ah," a sing-song voice called from the head of the table. "The Malfoys, ladies and gents."

Bellatrix Lestrange stood in an opulent black ball gown, complete with puffing sleeves and cinched waist. Her curls were carelessly pinned back, her arms opened wide in a mocking welcome.

"Good evening, Bella," Narcissa said coolly. She looked her sister up and down. "My. But it seems we are underdressed."

Bellatrix's plum lips twisted in a tight smile. "Only full evening dress for a dinner with the Malfoys."

"Dear me," said Lucius, stepping past his wife. "Is this your evening's best? I didn't realize how much Twilfitt and Tattings is suffering."

Bellatrix's eyes narrowed dangerously before flashing a wolfish smile. "Mind your manners, brother. We have a special guest tonight."

Hermione blinked, eyes flying over the room.

The two Lestrange brothers sat across from Bellatrix — Rabastan at the foot of the table, and Rodolphus to his right. A young girl in a thin dress was against the wall behind them. And across the room, beneath the Roman painting, Marcus Flint smirked at her from his position at the sideboard. Penelope stood next to him, her eyes downcast.

Draco's shoulders tensed from his position slightly in front of her.

"Ah," Lucius drawled, his eyes on Flint. "How curious that you described this as a 'family affair.'"