"Failed is a strong word, love," Bellatrix cooed, flashing her teeth. "I'd prefer to call it a little delay. And on the contrary, I'm taking your son under my wing. We're going to strengthen him." She shook Draco's hand, and Hermione could see his white knuckles clenching hers.

"This is preposterous—"

"I think we can all agree that the Dark Lord would be most pleased with the Malfoy family if Draco helped secure Switzerland." Her voice dropped. "Pleased enough to overlook certain weaknesses — which I'm sure we all hope will remain a secret."

Bellatrix's eyes suddenly slid to her, and Hermione shivered, her skin hot and itchy. She quickly turned her gaze to the floor.

"I'll help you, Draco," she heard Bellatrix hum. "Your father's blood may be weak, but you're still half a Black."

"Enough," Lucius snarled. He shifted to Narcissa. "I will speak to the Dark Lord. Switzerland is in a delicate situation after your sister's many mistakes, and I will make it clear—"

"It's already settled, Lucius. The Dark Lord has agreed." A pause. "I'll keep him under my protection, of course."

Before he could reply, the doors swung open, drawing Hermione's eyes and startling the room. Rabastan, Flint, and the girls were back. Hermione hadn't even realized the screaming had stopped.

"It was quick this time," Rabastan said. "He passed out early."

Hermione swayed on her feet, bracing herself on the wall.

Narcissa's face was pale with rage. "Gentlemen, you'll excuse my sister and I, and our husbands. We have a private matter to discuss. Rabastan, may we use your study?"

Rabastan nodded his acceptance and she moved briskly to the doorway, Lucius just behind her. Rodolphus abruptly stood and followed, grabbing his wine.

Bellatrix pushed back from the table with a screech of wood. She dropped Draco's hand and patted his cheek. Hermione kept her eyes down as she passed, tucking the sound of fresh screaming into a heavy, earthy tome.

Once the door closed behind the four of them, Flint said, "Well, I hate to inform you Rabs, but your elf can't cook worth shit." He clapped Rabastan on the back. "Shall we just pass through then?"

"I have a sitting room just across the hall," Rabstan said, grabbing several empty wine glasses. "We can get comfortable." His hand slid around the waist of his Lot.

Hermione's heart raced. She hadn't thought this evening would be anything like the Lounge. Draco stood abruptly, straightening his collar. "I should get going."

"You can't be serious." Flint shook his head. "Where do you have to be?"

Draco shrugged. "The night is young. Maybe we'll catch the end of the Ring Match. I hear Finnigan is back."

"Draco, come catch up," Rabastan coaxed. "I never get to spend time with you. And I haven't had a proper look at your Mudblood."

Flint wrapped his arms around Penelope's waist. "No one gets a proper look." He grinned. "Come on, Draco. An hour at least. Don't tell me you're as much of a prat at a family dinner as you are at Edinburgh."