Her teeth chattered as she brought each piece of information forward to examine before tucking it back into a book and sending it to the back of the library in her mind. When her books were securely bound and her shelves tidied, she summoned the most recent book to the forefront of her mind — the one with Edinburgh, Cho, and Viktor.

She'd been right. Viktor was working with the True Order. And now his cover had been blown while trying to get her out. Both he and Cho were working with that mission in mind, and they'd failed. But she hoped the Order had other victories last night.

How many had been saved? How many had died trying to get her out?

Hermione stared at her knees. They'd been covered in blood earlier, but she wasn't sure whose. Grabbing a bar of soap, she scrubbed her legs over and over, trying to organize her thoughts.

The True Order had somehow developed Portkeys that allowed them to travel in and out of heavily-warded properties — an unheard of magic. As she'd learned on Thursday, Edinburgh was for all intents and purposes a personal property, sealed with blood magic by its "owners" — the Death Eaters who'd spilled blood there. If there was a way to enter blood-sealed properties, then why hadn't the True Order hadn't just Portkeyed into the Death Eaters' estates by now? There had to be a reason.

Plan B, Angelina had shouted.

Plan A had been to take the girls out by Portkey, their owners still alive and their arms still intact. But they'd failed — the Carrow Girls had Splinched. The True Order had attacked Edinburgh knowing that Plan B might be necessary.

Hermione was confident that the owner didn't need to die in order for the Lot to escape the property, but Cho and Viktor believed otherwise. Maybe the Order had reasoned that Edinburgh was their best chance of catching owners and Lots together if Plan A failed.

Her head was still spinning when she stepped out of the bath. Her fingers and toes were numb, and her blood felt like ice in her veins.

She felt a shiver of guilt as she wrapped herself in a fluffy robe, but she was no use to anyone with hypothermia. She exited the bathroom to find Draco bent over her desk, a quill in his hand. She froze.

"You're back." Relief washed over her in waves, warming her limbs.

"Just for ten minutes," he said, and she watched his eyes flick over her bare legs. "I didn't want to disturb you."

"What happened? Were they suspicious of you? Did they question Charlotte?"

"Not to my knowledge, no. Charlotte was interrogated by my aunt, who determined she had no useful information."

Hermione blinked, hardly daring to breathe. He was here, and he was safe. "What are you writing?"

"I'm making you a list. Because I know you'll ask me for one." He turned his eyes back to the parchment and continued writing.