The silence that followed those words was the thickest Hermione could ever remember. Draco didn’t move a muscle in his body for the next few seconds. He was still glaring at her. As if he was struggling to fully understand what she had said. Or as if he was waiting for her to say something else. A more coherent explanation. A cry of "fool!". But she just waited for his reaction, feigning, for the tenth time that day, a poise she didn’t feel. Though she could in no way control the blush that, she could feel, was spreading across her defensive face.