She bristles at the mention of Draco, standing up even straighter with her chin lifted even higher, lofty and haughty- and then has to deflate slightly when she sees what he's holding.

Two things. One: the gods are cruel. Two: what is that?

Her eyes are glinting, but with worry, not excitement. She'd rather like to point out that the last time he gave anybody a book she ended up Petrified- but silly snarking suddenly seems like a bad idea. She just wants to go. Immediately.

That book doesn't look like something she wants.

"A book like what," she says, too flatly for a question mark, suspicion making her businesslike.