"Draco, you should have seen him when I told him she was here," Rabastan crowed. "Screaming her name, throwing himself at the bars, trying to Apparate without a wand or magic."

The taste of blood in her mouth. She'd bitten the inside of her cheek. Draco's ribs barely moved next to hers as he took a sip of his Firewhisky and said in an empty voice, "I'd love to see that one day."

She focused on her breathing, pushing through the pain until she could see still water in a large lake. A mountain range surrounding it.

"No wonder he misses her." Rabastan chuckled, shaking his head. "Merlin, I'll never forget that night. Back when we still could serve these." He tapped his Lot's empty glass. "Never seen a girl drop to her knees so quick. Getting fucking hard just thinking about it."

"Well she's a professional, isn't she?" said Flint.

They both laughed. Draco took a sip from his glass.

"You know, Granger, I've always wondered," Flint's voice drifted to her. "Do blow jobs get you wet? Certainly looked like it."

A lake with still waters. A sloping mountain range. Geese floating across the water, creating ripples.

"I wouldn't mind seeing a bit more of her. Now that your father's back, you might need some more privacy, eh, Draco?"

"Come off it, Rabastan. You know he doesn't fuck unless the curtains are drawn around his four-poster. Or his Lot's. Isn't that right?"

Draco shook his head with a wry smile. He tugged at his collar a bit, and sipped his drink.

Hermione looked over at Flint, and found Penelope starting to kiss his neck, pressing her legs together. The other girl appeared dizzy and flushed, sitting several feet away from Rabastan and staring at him longingly.

Hermione let the chatter wash over her, glancing over at Draco to gauge how much longer they would stay.

His face was tight and his cheeks were pink. She leaned into him to whisper, "Should I sit in your lap or—"

The arm around her shoulder disappeared. He sat forward, drawing away from her sharply and placing his hands on his knees. He pressed his eyes closed, like he might be sick.

"Everything alright there, Draco?" Flint lilted.

Draco's eyes flew open to glare at him. In a heartbeat, he was standing and moving to the doors.

"Granger. Come."

Hermione stared after him, stunned.

"Draco, come back! We'll miss the show!"

He wrenched open the door and stormed through. Hermione stood and ran after him, ignoring Flint's protests as Penelope moved to straddle him. Draco whipped around a corner as she stumbled out of the room, and she darted after him.

"What in the world—?" She rounded the corner and found him at the fireplace they'd come through, one hand bracing himself on the wall as he hunched over, heaving. "Are you ill?"

No response, except for the rattle of his breathing. She approached cautiously, reaching for his hand. A soft brush of her fingers over his wrist—