He smiled darkly. "No, that creature that walks through the Ministry, smiling at all the simmering idiots, that goes to bed and lets that buffoon rut on top of her, is Hermione Weasley. You, my dear, are entirely different. I always thought I saw something in you, all those years ago. Something in your eyes as you fought my sister-in-law. You’re a fair sight better at this than she was you know. She couldn’t hold herself back from the kill. But you savor it, like an artist should."  "Have you been admiring my work, Lucius?" Hermione asked crossing her arms and smirking. "I’m afraid it’s rather spoiled by the time the paper gets there to take the photos."