"What did he say?" Draco asked again, regretting the question even as he asked it. Did he actually want to know? Hermione looked up at the air above Draco’s head, eyes sliding to the side as she thought, that little vertical crease appearing between her brows, as it always did when she was angry or concentrating. Draco saw it every time they played Risk, as she furrowed her forehead, dragged her fingers through her hair, bunched up her mouth; desperately trying to think of a way to best him.