Upon seeing the expression on Malfoy’s features change, Harry let go of his arm without a moment of hesitation. In that split second, Harry seemed equally startled by the fact that his frustration had so clearly translated to a much harsher grip than intended.<br/>It sent Harry’s mind reeling, barely forming a coherent regret before Malfoy had slammed the door in his face. Whatever intention Harry had of apologizing immediately disappeared, leaving him blood boiling in the sudden darkness of the landing. It wasn’t surprise – frankly, Harry should have left Slughorn’s office at Hogwarts and just gone straight home, knowing better than expecting anything from Malfoy. What bloomed in his chest was instead a feeling of utter disappointment, frustrated to find that Malfoy was so headfast stuck in his own misery to even consider doing good when presented with the opportunity.<br/>Harry had to fight the urge to hammer a first against the front door, insisting for Malfoy to grow up and talk to him. The only thing stopping him the still lingering feeling of Malfoy’s forearm against his palm; he flexed his hand to rid himself of it, before apparating with a crack out of the inner circle of the Manor wards.