Harry’s attention had been fixated on his wand in Draco’s hand, looking for any discomfort, or even an attempt to suppress any. It was, frankly, pure luck he even realized a metal pendant was hurling towards<span style="font-style: italic">him</span>.<br/>Old Seeker’s instincts reacting quicker than his mind, Harry caught it mid-air, a twitch in his shoulders showing an early intent on ducking out of harm's way. Whatever frustration was painted across his features vanished, and for a brief moment, Harry had been caught off guard.<br/>Draco’s Accio had been technically proficient, and while the odd loyalty displayed by the autonomous trajectory of the medallion certainly was a surprise, even Harry himself was aware of the fact that it wasn’t comparable to the discomfort he had felt using Draco’s wand.<br/>It brought some frustration back to his features, unwilling to accept that turn of events.<br/>He shifted the medallion in his hand, the chain jingling as he offered it to Draco. When he spoke, an almost choked laugh escaped him, utterly displeased but not upset. “Your aim’s shite.”