Bellatrix does not stay long to Narcissa's obvious disappointment and relief. Hermione hates to see the lonely look in Narcissa's eyes as they watch Bellatrix Disapparate beyond the manor gates, but she knows Narcissa understands that every moment Bellatrix lingers is an increased chance for them to be caught. And Hermione cannot deny that she feels better with Bellatrix gone. Phantom pains twinge throughout her body, thinking of Bellatrix becoming an ally and a fixture in her life.

Narcissa wonders off after a moment. Hermione returns to the drawing room, thinking Narcissa may need some time alone. She sinks into a chair with a sigh.

Ron stops the lurking he's been doing for the past several minutes and drops into a chair next to her. He relaxes, and Hermione thinks he's also happier with Bellatrix gone. Eyeing the door, perhaps worried that Narcissa will appear randomly in the doorway, he asks in a low voice, "How much do you trust Bellatrix, really?"

"With Narcissa? I trust Bellatrix with her life."

"And us?"

Hermione meets his eyes, wondering why he's asking when he surely knows the answer. "Not as far as I can throw her."

"Good, good... We're on the same page..."

"What's wrong?"

"What isn't?" he asks with a wry smile. His smile drops. "How much do you think Narcissa will tell her?"

Hermione wants to say that Narcissa won't tell Bellatrix anything, but she tempers the impulse and thinks it over. Narcissa assumed Bellatrix would turn her in when they had touched upon it months ago, alone in a tent in the forest. Narcissa had not said anything to Bellatrix so far. But was that before Hermione had been there or because Narcissa did not trust Bellatrix with the knowledge of what they were doing?

"I don't think she'll tell Bellatrix," Hermione said carefully. "She knows Bellatrix. She'll know what is and what isn't safe to tell her. But I'll talk to her and see if I can get a better idea of what she's thinking."

Ron nods, looking hesitant. Something is on his mind. She waits patiently.

"Is there something between you and Narcissa?" he asks. "You seem awfully close..."

"We're friends," Hermione says, her heart beat picking up. "Not even that, honestly. We have an understanding, I think."

Ron gave her a skeptical look. "Sure."

Hermione bristles. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing," Ron says hastily. He jumps to his feet. "Why don't I get started on dinner."

It didn't sound like a question, and he bolts from the room before she can demand an explanation.