The squeak of leather snapped her head toward the door. There, in a leather wingback chair, sat Draco Malfoy. Oxygen was pulled from the room. His long leg was crossed over the other, and his elbows were perched on the armrests. He brought his long fingers together and rested his lips against them as he stared at her. He looked positively ruinous. His furrowed brows encased his gray eyes in a scowl Hermione recognized from their school years. To say Draco was angry was an understatement.