"You won’t have it?" Hermione drags her eyes to Draco, scanning him from head to foot and back up with a sharp snort of patronizing laughter, before turning away and walking back to her desk, leaning across it with deliberate intent to snag her beaded bag from the hook beneath. She’s fully aware of the tight pull of her dress across her arse, and the draw of both sets of hungry male eyes on it as she puts just the slightest bit of a sashay into her step, luxuriating in her feminine allure. "It’s a good thing that I don’t need your permission for anything, now isn’t it?"