"Relax. Hah. If you're relaxed, then I'm a pigeon," Hermione said hotly, amazed at how normal she sounded, as if she wasn't trying desperately not to cry or slap him. She sounded like an echo of the past; irritated Granger, exchanging barbs with Malfoy, she thought and bit her tongue, the sharp pain keeping her tears at bay, while a calmer corner of her mind was busy calculating what her chances were of grabbing the bottle away from Draco without a struggle. Draco raised an eyebrow at her choice of phrasing, and she expected him to say scathingly, a pigeon, Granger? But instead he just looked away and shrugged.