"Everyone else is concerned with the Macnair estate."

Hermione's mind spun. The Macnair estate was where Ron had been at one point. Macnair had bought Ron, Angelina Johnson, and Luna.

If all Death Eaters were concentrating their attention to the Macnair estate… If someone else had disappeared completely… Something was unraveling.

"I need"—Narcissa cleared her throat—"I need to see about lunch." A scraping of furniture legs. "You'll join me for tea before you leave?"

"I… I have several things—"

"I don't care. I'll see you for tea."

There was a flurry of footsteps and Hermione ducked behind a bust of Lucius Malfoy I just as the door flew open, squeezing herself tight so she wouldn't be seen.

Narcissa's heels clicked away down the stones, and once she'd rounded the corner leading to the kitchens, Hermione stood tall again and spun silently on her heel to run back to her room.

"Miss Granger," Lucius called out from inside the room.

Hermione froze, heart pounding. How had she given herself away? She forced herself to move, stepping into the doorway to find Lucius scribbling with a quill at a desk in an impressive study. He didn't look up at her.

"I take it that you have a habit of listening at doors like a child, then?" His tone was lyrical.

The tension in her shoulders melted. He wasn't going to kill her for what she heard. Just mock her to death. She braced herself, assuming the polite thing to do would be to enter the room and—

She stumbled backward. There was a barrier in the doorway. Similar to the one on her patio. She couldn't lift her foot to step through.

"Oh, no," he said, leaning back in his leather chair. "That wasn't an invitation." He pulled the feather of the quill between his fingertips and stared at her. "I suppose you've come to thank me for pulling your shaking and drooling body up the hill and back inside the barrier."

She narrowed her eyes, her temper sharpening like a knife against the stone. "Yes, I was surprised to find that you'd carried me—"

"Heavens, no." He lifted a brow at her. "I grabbed your arm and pulled you behind me like a dog."

She glared at him, knowing that wasn't true. But he was purposefully distracting her. She wondered how far she could push him.

"Who is missing?"

He tilted his head at her, and she expected silence, or another insult, or a taunting "come again?"

"Gregory Goyle," he said, adding, "Senior."

She blinked at him, surprised by an honest answer. Or a supposedly honest answer.

If he was telling the truth, why would Goyle disobey Voldemort? He was one of the ones who had returned immediately. He was in the graveyard in Little Hangleton. Were they sure he was alive?

Looking up at him again, Hermione knew Lucius was reading her face, knew her mind was whirring.

"I'll give you one more question," he said, eyes glittering. "Better make it worthwhile."