Draco was taking notes as if Harry wasn’t speaking in tongues; it made Harry stall, caught unprepared by the interest Draco showed in the absolute nonsense Harry was trying to put into words.<br/>“I guess, yeah,” he said, voice breathy with uncertainty.<br/>Trying to maintain his train of thought, Harry’s fingers picked at the cardboard tab of the folder, letting it slip from his fingers with soft snaps whenever it hit the tabletop.<br/>“This is the Aberdeen case, right?” he inquired about the latter of the two cases.<br/>He felt rather secure in his recollection, perfectly able to recollect the dry pain in his throat described in the entry, starkly different from the nausea enhanced in the other. Harry had in later years come to recognize that itch as a bruise to his windpipe, only assuring him in his choice of vague contextualisation to the sensation of vertigo..<br/>“Illicit potions brewing in the cellar?"