I wanted to scream my allegiance, as most of the students were doing. Indeed, only the decorum commanded of my age, and the Headmistress' duty of impartiality, prevented me from doing so.
The Cup-determining match against Ravenclaw was upon us. One hand gripped my seat whilst the other clutched at Hermione's wrist. I was so wrapped up in the intensity of the match - Gryffindor was ahead, but only by twenty, and one of our Chasers had just taken a Bludger to the stomach - that I failed to reprimand our commentator's habitual vulgarity.
Irkedly envisioning Filius' smirk, I also managed to overlook Hermione's ardent gaze.