“Lose your way, Montague?” Malfoy asked coldly as he stepped slightly in front of Hermione.
Montague shrugged.
“Just exploring,” he said. “I got curious when I saw her. You've got a lot of protective wards on this room, Malfoy.”
Hermione's eyes darted to the walls. Were there? She'd never noticed. It was difficult to detect certain types of wards without a wand or a bit of magic to press into them.
“The Dark Lord entrusted her to me with specific instructions regarding her care. It's always useful to know when someone is trespassing,” Malfoy replied. His tone was pure ice.
Montague laughed. “Is she not allowed visitors?”
“She is not,” Malfoy said, stepping away from Hermione after giving her the most perfunctory glance. “And if you were just curious you could have asked me. It's nearly midnight. Perhaps we should return to the party. I'm sure Astoria will be wanting us.”
Malfoy stalked across the room and waited for Montague to follow him. Montague seemed to intentionally take his time.
He glanced around the room again and then back at Hermione. The intensity returned to his eyes as he stared down at her with Malfoy behind him.
Something. There was something he was trying to communicate to her.
Then he turned and followed Malfoy out.
Hermione stared at the door that closed behind them for several minutes.
Montague.
Graham Montague?
He'd been on the Inquisitorial Squad. And he'd been captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team. Fred and George had shoved him into the Vanishing Cabinet during Fifth Year.
Hermione barely knew him. He barely knew her.
When had she known him to the extent that he would expect her to recognize him?
While she was thinking, Hermione laid aside the piece of paper her spasming fingers had wrecked.
The Malfoys were hosting a New Year's Party in the manor. She would have had no idea if Montague and Malfoy hadn't appeared.
She stood and went to the door, hesitating. She wanted to see people with her own eyes but the thought also terrified her.
If anyone saw her they could do anything they wanted to her unless Malfoy showed up and stopped them. Her sharp, instinctive relief at his arrival earlier unsettled her in more ways than she wanted to think about.
Better the devil you know than the devil you don't.
She stood at the door for several minutes before hesitantly opening it. She crept down the hall and slipped into one of the disused servants passages, winding her way toward the main wing of the house.
Gradually the sound of a string quartet began to reach her ears accompanied by the buzz of conversations. She stopped and listened.
Music.
She hadn't heard music in years.
She paused and leaned against the wall to absorb it. Shutting her eyes and breathing to the tempo of the strings.
She had forgotten how it felt to hear music.
After fifteen minutes she remembered herself and continued on her way. She cracked open a door and peeked into a darkened hallway to see if it was clear. She was about to step out when she heard a rustle of fabric and a woman's giggle. Hermione stepped sharply back and watched Astoria dart around the corner grasping someone's wrist. A male wrist most distinctly not belonging to Malfoy.
Hermione couldn't see clearly in the darkness but the build of the man was wrong. Broader and shorter. And not pale enough or blond.
Astoria leaned back against the wall and the man closed in on her until Hermione couldn't see the blonde witch at all. Hermione's eyes widened as the giggling gave way to breathy gasps.
She hadn't — well, it wasn't necessarily surprising — Hermione just hadn't expect to encounter it.
Suddenly two, milk white legs became visible as they were wrapped around the man's hips and the noises took a turn from gasping to moaning.
Hermione found herself weirdly fascinated until a horrifying thought occurred to her—
Malfoy would find it in her memory.
She stepped sharply back and fled silently up the stairs. She took another route toward the ballroom.
She had gotten quite good at navigating most of the manor. As long as she didn't rush herself and used the walls as a touchstone she could go almost anywhere.
On the third floor there was a cramped, twisty little stairway that led to a balcony alcove over the ballroom. Hermione assumed the party was located in the ballroom.
She'd hoped to go somewhere where she could listen to conversation but Astoria's hallway affair had interfered. Hermione replayed what she had witnessed. The act itself wasn't surprising but the indiscretion seemed excessive. Cheating on her husband in a hallway filled with his family's portraits. Even if it were an open-marriage the overtness seemed impolitic.
Hermione slipped into the alcove, knelt down and peeked over the railing, down at the party. The ballroom was filled with people all decked out in their most lavish robes. The room was resplendent in its decorations. Glittering. The chandeliers were lit with fairy lights and in the center of the room a tower of champagne belle coupes had been constructed and stood at least six feet tall; champagne was flowing down it in an endless magical fountain.
It was a party meant for the society pages. There were several photographers snapping pictures for the next morning's paper.
Hermione saw Pius Thicknesse and several other important figures in the Ministry. There were dozens of Death Eaters Hermione recognized.
A flash of pale blond caught Hermione's eye and she found Malfoy engaged in a conversation with Dolores Umbridge. The Warden was dressed in pink and fuschia dress robes with a plunging neckline and a pendant suggestively nestled in her bosom.
Umbridge was simpering and touching Malfoy on the arm while he remained stone-faced. His eyes kept surreptitiously flicking down to her chest in a way that appeared to be a mixture of curiosity and malaise.
Before Hermione could take further note of the interaction, a scarlet figure caught her attention. She glanced over and then did a double take. There was a surrogate at the party.
Hermione's eyes raced across the room and she realised there were nine of them there.
She stared in astonishment. She couldn't recognize any of them; they were all bonneted and following wizards around as though they were shadows. Their heads were tucked downward and their shoulders curled forward submissively.
Some of the wizards they accompanied were Death Eaters. Hermione recognised Amycus Carrow, Mulciber, and Avery. The other wizards were younger. She thought one might be Adrian Pucey and another Marcus Flint.
The surrogates, Hermione realised as she watched, were being used as status symbols. Paraded about to show off a bloodline's importance.
Hermione's chest grew tight and her face twisted as she watched.
The women didn't go near each other. Presumably they had been ordered not to wander. But as two of them happened to pass each other Hermione saw their hands brush for an instant. To pass a message or merely for comfort Hermione couldn't tell from the distance overhead.
Hermione had assumed that the other surrogates were kept cloistered away in houses the way she was. Clearly it was a mistaken assumption.
It was Hermione who was the exceptional case. Order member. Hidden memories. Blood-bound manacles. Given to the High Reeve. Taken to Voldemort.
It was possible the other girls were even permitted to go out alone. In fact, given that they were traceable, there wasn't necessarily any reason that they couldn't.
Perhaps Hermione was even technically allowed to do such a thing. Although somehow she doubted it. If she wasn't allowed visitors it seemed dubious that Malfoy would let her leave the estate.