"Malfoy," she called, her voice dry. Serene, though. In the calmest voice she could manage. Trying to keep her composure. Not getting any kind of response in return. Not a flicker. "Malfoy," she tried again, a little louder. And rougher. Nothing. Turned a deaf head. Hermione had to restrain herself from throwing the Quaffle at his head. Then she was sure he’d listen to her. He was listening to her. Of course he was listening to her. The silence in that place was deathly quiet. "Malfoy, could you help me for a moment?"