Harry stalled having only taken a few steps into the room; the simple fact that Draco refused to meet his eye should really tell him anything he needed to know. It was a stark difference to the smiles Harry had grown so accustomed to.<br/>Already feeling sickly, the loss struck Harry hard, caught more off guard than expected. They were right back at the beginning; strangers, even though Harry now knew how Draco tasted. It was a performance Harry had witnessed often enough, sure the actors would drop their charade if Harry reached out for them in private. This was different, there was no audience to Draco’s performance, meaning every nuance was intended for Harry to experience.<br/>It seemed to amplify the barely audible rejection in Malfoy’s actions.<br/>Little of that showed in Harry's expression, though his lips parted momentarily before speaking.<br/>“Alright,” he said, and he told himself it was an honest answer to Malfoy’s question; it was also a blanket acceptance of the path the other had taken for them.<br/>The smile remained on his lips, however; unfazed. Though Malfoy seemed like he was hollowed out from the inside with embarrassment, Harry couldn’t even be bothered to care. If that was the way Malfoy wanted to play it, Harry had no intention of fighting it, but he wouldn’t be convinced to regret it, either.<br/>“Like we each had a bottle of wine,” he elaborated, as he once again started moving, now clearly in the path of his own desk. He spoke as if that were to excuse the fact that he had missed breakfast, but Harry wasn’t actually sure Malfoy knew that. In all likelihood, Malfoy hadn’t even waited for him.<br/>That was fine, of course. Things were different today, after all.<br/>Maybe Malfoy would find comfort in the reminder that they were both drunker than they had been so far.<br/>Harry sat himself by the desk, hands immediately to the accumulating pile of letters. “I’ll feel better by lunch.”