Hermione didn’t know anymore. Didn’t know anything. She was half-drunk already, and exhausted, and her legs were still a mass of fading bruising and her back was killing her. And she wanted to drink hot chocolate with Draco and be happy and safe, but Lucius – damn him – had reminded her what Draco had once been. And that was a hard image to drive out of her head. She wanted to trust him. But he had once been a part of the evil that had destroyed Cho’s leg tonight. And not just a part of the group – it had been his father who had nearly killed Hermione and Cho.