Rivet, verb. To focus, to zero in on.
"Focus! You're never going to get this if you keep daydreaming!"
"Well, excuse me! It's hardly my fault that everywhere we go, you insist on pointing out every minute detail while expecting me to remember something you never told me in the first place!"
It was a typical, albeit a new type of typical, day for her. The blond standing in front of her being infuriated that she doesn't know his every thought, and her infuriated that he can't speak plainly.
"Hermione, this is serious. You need to focus on the actions and the words, not just what the spell does. Like this," he waved his stick before tapping the air with it, "wingardium leviosa." The feather on the table between them began to float gently.
She scoffed. "Of course it works for you, you've been doing this for years! I didn't even know this was possible until you dragged me off from my work."
His frown was directed at her pout as much as it was her words. He hadn't told her, but he'd spent quite some time watching her before getting showy, and he'd quickly formed the opinion that she needed to smile more. Not the fake, thin one he'd seen her give her customers, nor even the real but sad one she gave her friends. Especially not the pitying one she'd given the ginger bloke sending cow eyes her way. She needed a full grin, like she'd had when he first brought her back to his flat; the one full of life and excitement. The one he hadn't seen since she got over her shock at his collection of books.
He especially didn't like it when she complained as though she were unwilling to be here, learning what she never could have known was real. He'd recognized the longing for more the first time he'd laid eyes on her, sent from his job to investigate strange happenings in Muggle London. Why her magic hadn't made itself known earlier was a mystery he was still working on uncovering, but there was no denying that she was the source. It wasn't unheard of, per se, to have a witch or wizard born to Muggle parents, but it was hardly common. His job with the Ministry was to investigate and inform in those rare occasions, though he mostly returned empty handed. The majority of such potential incidents were the result of bored magical folk rather than an unclaimed novice, so when he'd found the genuine article, he'd wasted no time in bringing her to his world.
He simply hadn't expected it to be so difficult to get her to intentionally show her power.
So lost in thought was he, that he didn't notice at first when she'd sighed and used his wand again, an intense look of concentration on her face. He didn't notice how the expectant sorrow turned to wonder and glee. He didn't notice her calling him to look, nor the mischievous glint in her eye when she found him distracted for once.
He did notice though when the feather quite suddenly brushed below his ear, and he hit his shin on the table in surprise. Her laughter could be heard across the street as the usually unflappable Draco Malfoy blasted the feather to dust for the affront to his reputation.