Harry watched as Draco made his way through the room, taking a few seconds to follow him himself, entertained by the tease. It seemed like seeing Harry outside of the Manor had expanded Draco’s perception of him, existing beyond the four walls of their study; implying that Harry had a steady rotation of people over for<span style="font-style: italic">"tea"</span>made him snicker, flattered.<br/>“I don’t think I keep enough company for him to have an opinion,” he dismissed, easily and truthfully, though the chuckle remained audible in his voice.<br/>The house was simply not warded in a way that made it easy to keep any sort of company. The ease with which Draco entered was both surprisingly pleasant and thrilling, unable to shake how dangerously appealing that was to Harry. He didn’t linger at the knowledge that Harry had invited Draco not knowing this, prepared to deal with the hassle that was his wards  if that meant prolonging Draco’s company.<br/>Mercifully, that thought was washed away at the sight of the spread Kreacher had prepared. On the coffee table was several platters of treats, and four separate tea pots, neither of which Harry had ever seen before.<br/>“Not enough for four pots, blimey,” he exhaled, eyes darting to the elf still in the room.<br/>At a distance, Kreacher seemed forewarned enough to not attempt to reach out for Draco again, keeping on the opposite side of the table; his eyes were firmly on Draco, searching for approval, the excess clearly stemming from nerves.