Severus stared at Alecto for a long moment, the edges of his vision going dim. The idea of Amycus Carrow—piggish, slack-jawed, blood-purist Amycus Carrow—touching Hermione, touching his  wife, was enough to make him see crimson. He didn’t move, merely narrowed his eyes as he collected himself; Alecto’s crude attempt at manipulation was made all the more obvious by her sloppy smile. If he reacted now, it would confirm her suspicion that he had a fondness for his supposed captive, and if he dismissed her, Amycus would doubtless see it as permission for him to pursue his wife. 