Obviously discontent, Hermione sat in front of a large cookbook she'd procured on one of their rare visits to town. She glanced up at Harry over the top, then scowled and looked down at the book again. Ron's state had gotten her worked up already - and she had a feeling that Harry knew about it more than she did, which bothered Hermione more than she let on. She hated it when the two of them left her out of things, or worse, protected her. By now, it should be clear that she could handle herself just as well, if not better - especially judging by the state of Ron's face.
Unable to take any more silence, Hermione finally cleared her throat in clear disapproval (though was careful to keep it very un-Umbridge-like). "Well?" The question, 'What do you have to say for yourself?' went unspoken, but hung tensely in the air between them.