Draco regarded Hermione appraisingly. "Had the King wanted me to share, he would have extended the invitation to the mudbloods and the blood traitors, wouldn’t you think?" he said in a bored, condescending drawl. "I suppose that leaves out The Chosen One, but perhaps the king just preferred not to look at that  horrendous scar? We ought to have put a bag over your head before we arrived... Hindsight is twenty-twenty, I suppose." Draco his glass in a toast to their stunned faces, draining it in one gulp, and sliding it across the entry table. 