Blaise just snorted.  Hermione waited for Draco to explode in one of his peculiar fits of rage the way he had at the doorman in the restaurant, or even, to a lesser extent, at Pansy, but he seemed, at most, slightly exasperated.  "Could you be any more of a shite?" he asked, and flung himself down into what Hermione still thought of as her chair.  "I’d offer to get you something but it seems that’s unnecessary."