The cool detached drawl was eerily familiar, the tone similar to the one she would find only in the finest parties and two eyes locked onto the easily recogniseable form of one Draco Malfoy and snatched her hand back as though she’d been burned. He might have been a kid once, she the one with the power but something during the war had shifted that and it was harder, much harder for her to trust anyone let alone someone with a surname as infamous as his.
“I shall endeavour to be more careful in the future.” An equally clipped tone, vowels rounded out properly as she shot him a haughty look of her own. “Oughtn’t you to be off somewhere causing havoc and destroying the carefully crafted illusion of romance that novelists, chocolatiers, card writers and purveyors of tacky gifts have spent decades creating from nothing?” An arched brow, something flickering in the depths as she moved out of the way of a passerby to avoid another tumble. “What happened? Traumatic incident at Madam Puddifoots?”