Harry blinked, the smile on his lips frozen in time as he tried to make sense of that.<br/>“No,” he eventually replied, his brows quirking first in confusion as he stepped into the entryway. “I was still downstairs trying to ease the Fidelius.”<br/>It seemed unlikely that it was Kreacher, though, the elf usually just as disinterested in guests as the house itself, equally rude to others as he was to Harry. But then again, Draco wasn’t like anybody Harry had ever had over.<br/>His gaze dipped to Draco’s chest, though there was nothing there to provide an answer; and yet, there was, the way Kreacher had referred to Draco as<span style="font-style: italic">Master Black</span>seeming to process all at once.<br/>As the realization settled over him, Harry couldn’t help but laugh, an odd kind of thrill filling his chest, spilling over the physical bounds of his being. Harry had only barely gotten within reach of Draco before stepping back again, ducking his head with a grin.<br/>“Right. Welcome to your house, I guess,” he chuckled, making a vague gesture into the narrow hallway. When his attention returned onto Draco, Harry was beaming, boyishly riled rather than offended, his eyes bright with interest. “Ancestral home, and all; guess I’m just living in it.”