Voldemort simply watched them, his fingertips pressed together.

"The death of filthy Muggles." Bellatrix pouted and leaned forward. "You care for Muggles now, Lucius?"

The table was deathly still. Draco wiped his palm on his trousers.

"I care for desired results. Unless the Fog can be controlled, not a single one of our allies bordering France will allow us to release it from their boundary line."

Avery coughed. "A fair—"

"They don't have to 'allow' us anything." Bellatrix's lips were twisted in a snarl. "The Great Order must take. All your delicate maneuvering has boiled down to nothing more than inaction. If not for Brecht and me, we'd still be rotting in Switzerland—"

Voldemort lifted his hand sharply, silencing her. "Enough. I'm sure between the two of you, we will have infiltrated France by the end of the week." His scarlet eyes flashed to Theo. "Do work hard this week, Theodore. I trust you won't disappoint me."

"Yes, my Lord." Theo jerked a nod next to her. His fingers shook against the tablecloth.

"Lucius. Draco will go to France when the time comes to deploy the weapon. He's seen more offices than battlefields lately."

An amused cough from down the table — Dolohov.

"Of course, my Lord," said Lucius. He cleared his throat.

Bellatrix smirked and settled back in her chair. Hermione saw Narcissa reach for her water.

The conversation bubbled up again. Draco's ribs rose and fell sharply next to her. Hermione focused on her breath, filing away her emotions.

A high-pitched laugh burst from the other side of Theo. She blinked to see Selwyn's wife and Rookwood's wife laughing together.

The chatter resumed. Hermione watched Rookwood's wife lean over her place setting and whisper, "You did hear that the Hungarian Minister isn't here, didn't you? Gustus says he declined—"

Her husband placed a firm hand on her wrist, glaring at her.

"Anyway." Mrs. Rookwood sat up straight again, fanning her face and looking around the room. "Is it warm in here? Elf!"

With a crack, a small elf from the kitchens appeared at her side. "Yes, missus."

"Do you not have Cooling Charms? And also, there are no nuts in the feast, correct? I have a deathly allergy—"

Hermione's vision blurred as she stared at the elf, wobbling beneath the weight of the heavy chain around his neck. He squeaked his reply and she tore her eyes away, studying the back wall.

When her mind was clear again, she reached for her flute. Avery was speaking to Draco. Bellatrix was leaning into Voldemort's ear, murmuring something, and Hermione watched him nod. Rookwood and Selwyn had Theo's attention.

Taking a sip of her wine, Hermione let her eyes pass over Ginny. Her skin was painted and her hair perfectly coiffed, just as it had been on New Year's Eve. She was looking over Hermione's left shoulder, watching the Great Hall.

"Rabastan," Avery called down the table. "Where's your boy? I'm sure Ginevra was hoping to see her brother tonight."