"I’m more of a man than you are, you piece of scum," Ron snarled and Draco shifted around the table, moving so fast it was like he just flowed, so quick that before Hermione had finished turning her head Draco was already standing just behind her chair and facing Ron down. His hair fell over the side of his face, brushing his cheekbone and it was platinum in the sun. His pointed chin was thrust up, eyes sparking silver in the light and shoulders squared, and he looked achingly good in a brittle, sharp kind of way even as he sneered at Ron.