Hermione narrowed her gaze pointedly at the other man, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck stand up a bit as his pointed comments. “Malfoy, I’m not on the payroll of the Wizarding world because I would rather be seen for my talents in working, rather than my name or stature,” she said, trying not to remember just how hopeful she’d been that someone in the wizarding world would be willing to pay her under the table. But that had not worked out, not when her only really viable option had been to beg George for a job at his shop. But the idea of working for him had been enough to keep her up at night. She hadn’t dared to ask him.
“As for rebellion, I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m merely trying to be a good citizen,” she said, not bothering to hide just how much she was lying right then. “Why on Earth would I try and plot against our heart broken and wise Minister? As for being on your side of things, well. I suppose that in some ways I am, with the exception of never having fought for an egomaniac mass murderer.”