Eyes skated over her face and neck, and Hermione let her gaze drag across them in turn. She kept her spine straight and her lips curved, as if she, too, were cut from stone.

To her right, she saw Minister Santos and his wife were taking their seats next to Minister Cirillo. To her left, Minister Thicknesse and Dolores Umbridge seemed to be in deep conversation. Umbridge wore a gown of pink sequins and lace, and as they passed, her eyes met Hermione's with a coy smile.

They reached the end of the aisle. Lord Voldemort stood at the center of the High Table, his thin lips smiling. He wore green robes of crushed velvet. Bellatrix stood at his right in brocaded black. Her eyes narrowed at Lucius and Narcissa as they climbed the steps.

The room felt cold. Hermione focused on her heartbeat as she and Draco cut to the left and followed his parents.

"Lucius," said Voldemort softly. "You and your family are very welcome."

"Thank you, my Lord." Lucius and Narcissa inclined their heads, and once they straightened, Voldemort gestured to the chair across from him. Lucius pulled out the chair across from Bellatrix, and Narcissa settled in it silently. Lucius took the chair to her right, directly in front of Voldemort.

Draco stepped forward, and Hermione kept her head lowered as he paid his respects to Voldemort and his aunt. He pulled out the chair to the right of his father, looking pointedly at the chair next to him. Hermione approached the table, expecting him to sit, but he seemed to be waiting for something.

"Mudblood Granger," Voldemort hissed, and Hermione's pulse skyrocketed. "You do not have a greeting for me?"

She quickly dropped into a low curtsey. "Of course, my Lord. Forgive me."

Bellatrix tutted her disapproval. Draco's knuckles went white on his chair.

"Thank you for allowing me to attend tonight, my Lord."

There was a stilted silence. Then Voldemort hummed his acknowledgment, and Hermione felt like she could breathe again.

She waited with her head down until Draco pulled his chair out, and followed suit, her heart still thumping in her ears.

People murmured and laughed around her, the table groaning and chairs shifting at both ends. Hermione kept her lips curved and her eyes fixed on her champagne, letting the noise blend together like bubbles in a flute. The chair to her right pulled out, and she looked up to see Theo bowing to Voldemort. Oliver stood with another Lot against the opposite wall, their heads down and hands folded.

Blinking, Hermione glanced over her shoulder. The tables were packed, the Great Hall nearly full. And all around them, black robes with gold belts lined the walls like sentinels. She was the only Lot allowed to sit at the table.

Her mind rippled, but before she could calm it, a melodic voice dripped like honey across her ear.

"My Lord. I am honored to sit at your table."

With slow movements, Hermione turned in her chair to take in Ginny Weasley, sparkling in silver and dripping in diamonds. Avery bowed next to her, his hair slicked back.