"They disarmed me before they told me what they wanted to do with you – used an expelliarmus when I wasn't expecting it, bloody backstabbing fucks," he tells her, as if disgusted with himself for being caught off-guard. "And then when I told them I wouldn't let them...have you, they took their displeasure out on me, as I said. I'm just lucky that the two idiots didn't use magic, and didn't kill me accidentally either." He sighs, frustrated and short, shoving his food aimlessly about his plate as he goes on. Hermione finds herself sitting down at the table, hands knotted up in her lap, twining over each other nervously as she listens.