And then Bella had asked him to identify the them. He couldn't, of course, for countless moral reasons and his own personal ones. He had hedged, he had tried to stall, all while waiting and wishing desperately for Potter to pull some Chosen One bullshit he was known for. And then Bella had gone off the fucking deep end and taken Hermione. His mother really had drawn blood then, gripping him by the back of the neck so tightly he was sure her fingers would break. Her whispered "you'll damn both of you if you break, dragon. Shields up. Now," had kept the bile from rising, had kept him from weeping as Hermione had screamed. Mercifully, she hadn't looked at him. Perhaps knowing he would break if she did. Or perhaps, after the first intense minutes, she'd had no awareness of where she was, let alone where he was. The minutes had stretched, and her screaming had only intensified as Bella had carved into the soft skin of Hermione's forearm. He'd looked at her face then, and had wished immediately that he hadn't. The bile had risen then and he'd been unable to stop it. He was preparing to damn the consequences when Potter and Weasley had appeared. And then they were gone, almost as quickly and unexpectedly as they had appeared.