Draco rattled off three excellent excuses for Harry to stay put in quick succession, and still Harry felt more than a little indignated by such a resolute dismissal.<br/>Slumping back into his pillow with a strained exhale, his hand  quick to push beneath the rim of his glasses to once again rub at his eyes, thumb and pointer finger resting heavy against his nose bridge.<br/>“It’s still my case, you know,” Harry had to interject, a meeker excuse for an argument. Though it wasn’t Harry’s direct employees working the scene, Harry felt the grip of anxiety get a hold of his stomach, uneasy at the prospect of leaving so many to wander that house without his presence, having first hand experienced its volatile nature. The case had been at a stalemate for the six months Harry had spent at the Manor due to just that.<br/>Still processing Draco’s words, Harry pushed his glasses up onto his forehead, little point in wearing them if he was barred from leaving the bed.<br/>“I’m better,” he eventually grumbled, face still obscured by his own hand. Exhausted, surely, but better.