The request was so oddly formal that it almost compared to a punch in the gut, a venture into a degree of professionalism they had ever had between them. Something was that conversation had stifled between them, but the fact that Draco felt like he needed Harry’s permission to take a long lunch in his own home had made Harry’s optimism sour, feeling like it set them even further back.<br/>“You’re on an hourly hire, you can do with your day as you please,” he said to the appearing breakfast plate, his response so readily prepared he failed to hear the bounds of the request.<br/>Cutlery in hand, Harry’s eyes returned to Draco with a curt but not unkind smile. It was a display of reluctant professionalism, by now willing to accept that tone if it was what Draco had decided for them. Then, Harry’s expression almost immediately wavered, processing the context with a delay.<br/>“A caseworker is coming?” he repeated, though that didn’t encompass even a fraction of the questions he had. The bile forming in the back of his throat had disappeared, the annoyance he felt replaced by genuine and immediate wariness. “Why?”