The sound of grating chair legs over the constant thrum of noise caught Hermione’s attention and she looked toward the disturbance, rolling the scroll absently up again. Draco was getting to his feet, an Auror looming behind him. He appeared to apologise to Neville – if that was what Draco said; Hermione wasn’t a lip-reader, and Draco could have just as easily been saying fuck you, Longbottom. Hermione fervently hoped not. The general view on Draco today, from what she had picked up in overheard snatches of conversation, seemed to be that perhaps Draco wasn’t all that bad. Hermione didn’t want him ruining that with his usual defensive act of abrasive arrogance.