Once grey met brown, the silent battle began. The intensity of their eye contact was flammable, fuelled by years of spite, anger and unresolved tension. Hermione stared at his eyes long enough to notice how the little drops of blue sparked inside the storm of his irises as he struggled to stay in control. She couldn’t help the smirk that crept across her face. He was about to break, it was only a matter of time before he finally showed his true colours to poor McGonagall who seemed to forget who this wizard really was. Unfortunately, after what seemed like hours, the Headmistress placed a delicate wrinkled hand on his shoulder. As soon as their petty competition ended, Hermione exhaled loudly as if the air on her lungs had been punched out of her.