“Please, don’t get up,” Harry was quick to say, wanting to curb some of Clarke’s formalities. Having gone a month without being addressed as<span style="font-style: italic">sir</span>, Harry found that he wasn’t particularly fond of how it sounded in Draco’s office.<br/>The suggestion was made reality when Harry’s hand found Clarke’s shoulder in a friendly substitute for a handshake, urging the other man back into his seat. No matter the intention, the gesture was ultimately dismissive, not wanting to engaging in that bureaucratic dance.<br/>The gesture only really started verging on belittling when Harry's hand remained on Clarke's shoulder as Harry's attention shifted to Draco. Harry hadn't failed to notice that a third cup of tea had appeared on the desk, making his smile grow fractionally wider.<br/>“Malfoy,” he greeted politely, a fleeting moment of shared ridicule.<br/>Rather than offering Draco his hand, Harry patted the greeting onto Clarke’s shoulder, retrieving his hand as he finally walked past him.<br/>“Don’t let me interrupt you, Clarke, go ahead,” Harry encouraged, disinterested in being the one who set the proceedings for the day. He had turned towards his own desk, seeming to consider how and where he’d best be seated. “I’m just here to make sure there’s no conflict between your work and the NDA Malfoy has signed with my office.”