Having spent the passing days reading through countless archival forms detailing the handful of dark objects Draco had singled out to him, Harry had come to neglect other even more tedious tasks. Ahead of Harry laid a several days worth of unanswered correspondances, opened and with good intentions sorted into their varying degrees of urgency.<br/>Unable to be arsed to reply to any of them regardless of his own efforts, Harry’s attention had drifted. The arbitrary subject of his fidgeting became the spherical map of the house at Towthorpe, which had otherwise laid abandoned in the secure confines of a saucer.<br/>Larger than a snitch, the globe didn’t fit familiarly in Harry’s hand, rolling it across the tabletop rather than in his hand.<br/>Cheek propped up against his knuckles, Harry watched the coloured flecks of the wards mix together into a blur as the map rolled forwards and backwards. There was no aim to the exercise, nothing to be learned from the blur. He had for some time watched as the silver horizon flipped and settled, watching the house turn on its head. Harry, however, felt his heart drop whenever the house turned upside down, revealing no structure below the ground floor, dissatisfied.<br/>He would have thought himself deep in thought, and yet it only took Draco turning his head towards him for his eyes to flick upwards, meeting Draco’s gaze without needing to place the other man in the room.<br/>Harry stopped the rolling map. “Yeah?”