"I don't know. A Slytherin from our year at school?" Hermione said absently, silently worrying about Draco; wondering if she should make sure he stopped drinking between now and the mission, and cringing from the thought of having to talk to him. He wouldn't listen to her if she told him not to drink, anyway. He'd probably drink more just to spite her. A furrow appeared between her brows, and Ron's wild guesses as to the informant's identity went in one ear and out the other as Hermione wondered if Harry would let her borrow his invisibility cloak again, a vague scheme involving sneaking down to Draco's room and stealing his hidden liquor stash fomenting in her head.