"Very keen, Granger. You and your broom have a certain resemblance, too," he countered, referring to the old, badly trimmed tail bristles, worn with age, so much like her frizzy, lumpy brown hair. Hermione maintained her amused smile, taking no offence. There was no cruelty in his voice. On the contrary. He’d played along with her joke. "Let’s go, come on..." the boy repeated, turning his broom slightly away from her. "Catch me."