"Exactly. You’ve got nothing," she heard Malfoy’s footsteps on the grass and, looking back up at him, saw him bend down to pick up the Cleansweep she had dropped earlier. "Mount the broom," he ordered, without looking at her. He put the other broom between his long legs and rose up easily, with a firm kick to the ground. He stood still ten feet off the ground, watching her with cold impatience. Waiting. She gazed at him for a few seconds. Admiring and envying the naturalness and confidence of his stance. She swallowed. Taking in the situation.