Draco steps closer. He offers her a single, appraising glance up and down. “You’re Hermione Granger. I suspect you can do anything if you really want it done.” “Stop almost-complimenting me, Malfoy.” His smile grows, white teeth nearly as bright as his hair as he reaches out and flips a curl over her shoulder. He shifts, leaning once more against the nearby column. “Trust me, Granger, you’ll know if I’m complimenting you.”