He read Snuff and chuckled at some bits and set his mouth in a hard thin line at others, and sometimes he threw it down angrily and thought for too long about why Hermione had wanted him to read it, annoyed. And once it was finished Draco moved on to other books, and in reading them he thought perhaps he got to peek inside Hermione’s head. There were old-fashioned romances, and Muggle ideas of what magic would be like, very British murder mysteries, the odd book about space and the future. There wasn’t much to do but read, and so read he did.