His face was sincere, but the arrogance in it still boiled her blood. Hermione wanted to snap at him that his "intervention" had accomplished nothing, and that she'd had to claw her way out of St. Mungo's herself.

Instead she pasted on a polite smile and said, "I understand. Thank you."

Bill nodded. After an awkward pause, he grabbed a plate and kissed his wife. He took the seat next to her.

"Alecto Carrow?" Ginny asked.

"It's done," George said around a mouthful of potatoes. "Jacobs did the honors straight away."

Hermione's fork paused. "She's dead? Already?"

It was only half ten. Alecto Carrow's trial had begun some time that morning, and she had already been executed.

"Yep. Freed up some space in Azkaban." A piece of toast stopped on the way to George's mouth. He met her eyes for the first time. "Why? Did you fall in love with her too?"

Like a splash of cold water across her back. There was silence in the kitchen except for the clatter of a knife.

Her lips parted on a sharp inhale. "You have no idea what you're talking about—"

"George," Ginny hissed.

"Oi—"

George stood from the table, grabbing one more piece of toast. "Whatever." He nodded to Bill. "I'll see you at noon for Jugson."

He disappeared into the living room. She heard his heavy footfalls up the stairs.

Fleur tried to change the subject. Bill poured her another glass of orange juice. Ginny offered her a strained smile.

And Hermione sat quietly, Occluding until the look on George's face was no longer burning behind her eyelids.

At noon, Bill left with George for Jugson's trial. Hermione sat with Ginny and Fleur in the living room, reading through two weeks' worth of the New York Ghost. Her head was already throbbing from all the Occlumency, so she directed her focus on Gertie Gumley's questions about the lack of transparency behind the Provisional Government of England's new Justice Tribunal.

Bill and George returned three hours later. Hermione didn't ask about the outcome this time.

The sun sank lower in the sky, and Hermione read on. After a time, Fleur got up to do a few chores. Ginny stayed with her.

Hermione's eyes began straining, but everywhere she looked around the Burrow brought flashes of memory — with Molly and Arthur. Harry and Fred. She'd never stayed at the Burrow while Charlie was home, but he was dead now, too.

The white shore of Dover Beach swam up to the forefront of her mind, the wind on the shore. The bright flash of green as Lucius killed him swiftly.

She shook her head, and buried it.

Dinner was also stilted. Ginny had grown moody and silent, and George wouldn't look at Hermione except to ask her to pass the potatoes. She caught Bill watching her furtively several times, as if expecting her to have a meltdown at the table.

Hermione pushed her food around her plate, biting back all the things she wanted to say about the Malfoys, and how none of them would be sitting there if it weren't for them. She thought about mentioning the tattoos — asking them if they knew who'd delivered Charlotte the antidote — but she could already imagine what George would say and Bill would think. And she didn't need to give them any more ammunition.