The longer Harry had spent at the Manor, the less necessary he had found it to fill every possible silence. The pauses in their interactions no longer felt awkward, the tentative familiarity of sharing a workspace seeping into the time they spent together off the clock. Silence was no longer a sign of hostility, Harry had come to learn. He had finally experienced that over the course of the passing weekend, time spent apart but together. So, on his second Monday there, Harry silently flipped through that morning's Prophet without any remorse, even though Malfoy was sat across from him.<br/>Not one to entertain himself much with the public news cycle, Harry had been flipping through it rather inattentively, only pausing to read a sporadic paragraph now and then. He had spent the weekend giving Kreacher's choice of Russian litterature another go, and at the prospect of reading more case files within the hour, Harry picked at the paper mostly to keep his hands busy.<br/>He was skimming over the obituaries for familiar names when a scrape at the window made him look up, startled back to reality. His eyes found Malfoy first, and the window second, finding Tango on the outer sill with a brown paper package at her side. Even at a distance, Harry recognized the Ministry wax seal.<br/>"Oh," Harry quirked the moment he realized what might be delivered in a box rather than an envelope. Abandoning the paper, he stood, leaving the dinette in favour of the window. "This might be from Towthorpe already. What time is it?"