When she found no Prophet on her tray, she ventured out of her room and down to the dining room. Narcissa sat in her chair, sipping her tea and turning pages in the paper. She looked up when Hermione entered.

"Hello, dear." She smiled tightly. "I'm glad that you're safe."

"Thank you," Hermione said, taking her chair. She wasn't sure what else to say, so she poured herself a cup of coffee.

"I received a message from Lucius in the middle of the night that the castle had been attacked, but that you and Draco had made it home. I've been extremely worried, but thought it was best to let you both rest." Narcissa paused, her expression soft. "Are you alright, Hermione?"

Hermione set her coffee down and forced a smile. "I'm fine. I'll be fine. I spent a few hours Occluding, which helped quite a bit." Hermione shifted in her seat. "But I was wondering about the paper—"

"Feel free." Narcissa waved flippantly at the newspaper. "Not that Skeeter had anything useful to say, unfortunately. Every detail Lucius gave me contradicted what she wrote."

Hermione nodded. "What did she say?"

"Small band of rebels, minimal losses, Swiss terrorists." Narcissa rolled her eyes. "Perhaps tomorrow the Ghost will have more information, but I think this is going to be kept tightly under wraps."

Hermione stared at the crinkled corner of the Prophet, thinking of Cho and Katie Bell and those who would get no obituary in their paper.

"Where is Lucius?"

"Gone again." Narcissa pressed her lips together. "As the best Legilimens in the Dark Lord's army, he and my sister have been sent to interrogate recent visitors at Edinburgh and search for possible collusion. They will be gone for some time." She paused before folding her napkin delicately. "But before he left, he made it clear to me that you are now expressly forbidden from entering our library."

Hermione swallowed and grabbed a scone from the serving plate. "I'm sorry, Narcissa. I'm sure he's told you all about it, but he's... not very happy with us."

"A tantrum," said Narcissa with a wave of her hand. "All Malfoy men are prone to them." She smiled, and after blinking at her, Hermione did the same. But there was a tightness around Narcissa's mouth as she picked up her teacup and brought the porcelain to her lips. "He's not wrong about one thing. The next few weeks will be dangerous, Hermione. The Dark Lord is likely suspicious of everyone in his circle."

Nodding, Hermione crumbled the scone between her fingertips.

"But if you need anything," Narcissa said, casting her eyes down to the Prophet and turning a page.

The rest was left unsaid, hanging on a string between them as they drank their coffee and tea.

~*~

Hermione stood before Draco's bedroom door that afternoon, hesitating before finally rapping her knuckles against the wood. There was a shuffling behind the door, and then he pulled it open, blinking at her drowsily. He rubbed his eyes, and her gaze caught on the plain cotton shirt he'd worn to bed, and the way his hair was still drying from an earlier bath.