Her greetings sounded forced, her laugh and pleasantries, fake. Draco stiffened. Hermione was doing a better job at playing the polite houseguest, commenting on how Pansy hadn’t changed and how nicely decorated the dining room was and how well she’d heard they were doing with their jobs at the Ministry. As if this were a normal situation. As if their hosts weren’t housing wanted criminals in exchange for gold. Draco hadn’t seen her perform so flawlessly in society in years. His nostrils flared.  Fucking damn it, she’s up to something. He accepted a small glass of colorless alcohol from Theo and downed it. It was strong and shot a surge of warmth through his entire body. 