Her eyes met a cold stare. Two pools of warm grey were now cold and sharp silver. Something changed in his posture. Draco was gripping the armrests of his seat as if trying to contain himself. He was angry. But not in the way that she knew. This was despise, something suppressed inside of him. Just by a single look at him, she knew that he was about to say something bad. Something well calculated and hurtful.