She watched Draco's jaw tick before he smiled tightly. "Twist my arm, why don't you?"

Rabastan laughed and jerked his head in the direction of the door. Draco pushed in his chair methodically and grabbed her elbow to lead her out. She brought her other hand up and squeezed his fingers, thinking about the way Bellatrix had touched him. Her mind drifted to Switzerland, but she forced it aside.

They were led into a small sitting room, just as dark and ghostly as the rest of the manor. Flint and Penelope dropped into an armchair while Rabastan went to the drink cart. His Lot took a sofa, and Draco led Hermione to the other matching sofa. She let him sit first, then tucked her legs on the couch and leaned into him, trying to look comfortable.

"Can I get Miss Granger anything to drink?" Rabastan turned a smile on her. "Perhaps some wine with a splash of something else?"

He pulled a small bottle of clear liquid from his inside pocket and shook it tantalizingly.

Flint laughed. "Draco doesn't need that potion, Rabs. His slut is wild for him without it, isn't that right?"

Hermione said nothing, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Draco made a noncommittal noise as Rabastan popped a bottle of champagne, poured two glasses, and split the potion between them. Flint joined him at the cart, and they each added a hair to a glass before offering them to the girls.

Draco stiffened besides her as Penelope and the other girl obediently drank their champagne, tipping their glasses back and swallowing like they'd done it a thousand times before.

Hermione tried to Occlude, but her mind groaned in protest, still depleted from Bellatrix's attack. Her knee began to bounce, and Draco placed his hand on her thigh, calming her.

"Well, gentlemen"—he quickly stood—"Never been much of voyeur myself, so we'll just see ourselves out—"

"Relax," Rabastan smirked, pouring three tumblers of Firewhisky. "This one's a new concoction I've been helping Marcus with. Takes some time to kick in, but once it hits, it gets stronger until you scratch the itch, if you catch my meaning. I like to watch her writhe a bit beforehand." He strolled to Draco, offering him one of the glasses of Firewhisky. "Have a drink, take that chip off your shoulder, and enjoy yourself." He shoved the tumbler into Draco's hands and smiled, a crooked front tooth glinting in the candlelight, before pushing him down on the couch. Flint laughed and settled into his chair with Penelope.

Draco schooled the irritation from his features and settled next to her.

"Granger," Flint called out. "Your boyfriend's quite the screamer."

She felt her entire body grow cold. Her vision narrowed to Flint's smug smile as he sipped from his glass. She tried to breathe deeply.

"Tell me. Did he scream like that when you used to suck his cock in the Gryffindor common room?"

Rabastan laughed. She blinked, her shelf rattling and groaning.