They shared a moment of contemplative silence, Malfoy’s hand lingering long enough for Harry to experience the weight of if shift whenever Harry’s chest rose or fell with his breathing. On the inhale, it felt like it dipped beneath the barrier of his skin, bone pliant beneath Malfoy’s thumb. When he removed it, Harry’s skin felt cold in its wake, and a chill burrowed deep into his chest to replace the touch.<br/>Harry, too, felt the need to shift his stance.<br/>He turned just enough to follow Malfoy’s departure out of the foyer; it was only when Malfoy was fully out of sight that Harry’s shoulders resettled, a tension he hadn’t noticed finally dissipating. There was a great sense of relief tied into Malfoy’s quiet acceptance. Harry’s eyes closed for the duration of a single, steady breath. Though he felt certain this wasn’t the end of this line of questioning, Harry felt reassured that Malfoy had agreed to drop it for the time being.<br/>When Harry once again opened his eyes, he leaned down to pick his dress shirt off the floor. He made a poor attempt of brushing out the wrinkles of his dress shirt, before pulling it on, eyes raised towards the hall leading beyond the foyer.<br/>“So I’m staying?” he called into the void, his voice almost a smile, dauntingly aware of the implications of the wards.