"Malfoy doesn't have to be dead. It's just cutting off the arm. I've been studying the tattoos, and—"

"Studying them?" Cho's brows drew together. "Hermione, Angelina escaped by killing Macnair and cutting off her arm. They won't take any chances."

Cho turned to the door.

"You can't go out alone." Hermione's voice shook. "The Death Eaters — Cho, the werewolves. They're out of control—"

"I can take care of myself."

Cho's voice was cold.

Hermione looked at her — really looked at her. Her dress was drenched in blood. Her face speckled in it. Her sword dripping a fresh burgundy.

She felt a chill race down her spine.

"You should wait here with me." Hermione's voice croaked. "The Order can find us both and get us out."

Cho blinked at her. "That's not my mission, Hermione."

A splinter of wood from several doors away. Hermione jumped. The rumble of voices.

"Get under the table." Cho flipped her sword over her wrist, taking a defensive stance.

"We should both hide—"

"Get under the table," she hissed, the sound dark and coiling. Cho's eyes were black and intent.

The room next to theirs was forcibly entered, the door blasted open. Hermione listened to the wood bounce against the adjoining wall.

She looked down to the shard of glass cutting into her shaking palm. It wasn't a sword, but it was good enough for Susan Bones. She ducked and pulled the tablecloth to cover her just as the door to their room was kicked open.

The clang of the sword hitting the stone wall with Cho's first swing—

"The bitch is here!"

— Cho's grunts and the sizzling jets of magic —

"Expelliarmus," from a second voice.

Hermione froze as the sword thumped down heavy, several feet from the other side of the tablecloth. She could see its shadow. She slid closer on her belly, fingers stretching, concentrating on summoning it to her—

"You little cunt," Dolohov growled, and Hermione felt the magic die from her fingertips. Her blood curded in her veins, the hand reaching for the sword snapping to her side. "Almost took a chunk out of my face earlier."

"I watched her kill Mulciber," the other voice said. "Like she knew exactly what to do."

Dolohov's heavy boots thumped as he moved around the table. Hermione turned her head and followed the shadow of him, terror slicing her insides with each step. The tablecloth was just a sliver high enough that she could see Cho's feet hovering in the air, magically pinned against the stone wall.

Her legs scrambled as he got closer.

"You like playing with swords, love? How about we play a bit with that sword. I've got a couple of ideas about where to put it."

The sound of Cho spitting. The crack of Dolohov's knuckles across her face. Hermione reached out her fingers desperately, struggling to breathe. The sword began rattling softly—

"Take her," he ordered the other Death Eater. "We'll have a Legilimens take a look before we have our fun."