Hours after Cleo - Cecily - had left, Blaise was still trying to wrap his mind around what she had said. What had been revealed. He couldn't imagine how Hermione was feeling right now. She hadn't said anything after the assassin's departure. She had merely waited, silently, as Blaise finished untying her before standing and taking hold of the folder and walking out of the room without a backwards glance. The boys had drifted apart, Draco through the Floo with a muttered "we can talk later;" Theo had disappeared, likely to nurse his undeniably hurt feelings as well as his rather bruised ego (if Blaise had to guess); and Blaise had found the elves, ensured they were okay (they had been rendered unconscious by the Domina bitch and it had taken a full hour to calm them after reviving them), and then found the oldest bottle of liquor with the highest alcohol by volume. He'd sat in steamy pool house ever since, thinking as he tried to drown the day out in a haze of amber liquid.