Harry of course knew that; he saw it on the tip of people’s tongue more often than he’d like. Over the course of the passing decade, Harry had come to accept that compromise, if it meant he’d get to do his work under comparable conditions as his peers. He was less uptight with what was given to him out of work, knowing precisely what and how much had come to him in his adulthood solely for things he was forced to do as a teen.<br/>That hadn’t really been what had interested Harry, anyway. Not having seen Malfoy in a decade meant he had blurred from Harry’s consciousness, allowing the other man the freedom to exist independently from his youth. Every day they spent together those two Malfoy’s grew incrementally further apart. It seemed like Harry hadn’t been granted the same grace in Malfoy’s mind; he wasn’t sure why that disappointed him, but it made it hard to put that praise into words.<br/>"But<span style="font-style: italic">boy</span>?" Harry pressed instead, the smile on his lips letting know it was halfway to a joke; he was no longer denying Malfoy’s point. The other half was an uncomfortable sense of infantilization, but that showed less on his expression. "We’re pushing thirty, Malfoy, I would’ve hoped I’d at least aged out that part."