In spite of the soft, steady thud against Hermione's temples, the beer that still had her feeling warm and blanketed in spite of being only a shadow of what butterbeer had once been capable of, she turned to the side to look at Draco with an almost alarming amount of clarity. Perhaps she'd had enough time to acclimate herself to his presence, between the fact that he'd been one to find her on the beach and the various times she'd bumped into him at the party, one too small and confined to miss anyone familiar for the duration. As pathetic as it possibly made Draco out to be, even Hermione noted that she could recall very few times, if any, when the young man had been honestly happy. Not vindicated, not malicious, but content with the way things were, and that fact had her sighing as her temple dropped into her palm, eyes fixed on the blond and lips only pressing lightly with disapproval.

"You wrote the words, but you got them all wrong," Hermione replied slowly, with an exhale sharp enough as to almost be derisive. "So we rewrote it. You'd do well to learn the new lyrics, unless you'd prefer to continue spouting lies."