"Oh my god. Not a good thing," she granted him lightly, and then at an embarrassed loss for anything to say, tapped her glass with her wand, filling it with icy water and taking a sip. The chilled water slid down her throat, cooling the slight heat of embarrassed awkwardness that suffused her for some reason. She sighed and pressed the glass to her cheeks, the condensation delicious on her skin. She pretended – probably not well – that she didn't notice Malfoy's sharp gaze still resting on her, and that it didn't make her feel all itchy and stifled in her own skin. Slytherin indeed; there was nothing sneaky about the way he seemed to be almost assessing her, Merlin knew why though. Perhaps he was – justifiably – wondering if she was going to turn prickly and contemptuous at him again.