Harry’s brows relaxed in a moment of exasperation, having to put genuine effort into hearing Malfoy’s words at face value, not letting his brain try and make sense of them. A decade working as an Auror had his brain trying to problem solve as it unfolded, but time and again Harry had to come to terms with the fact that none of the explanations he could come up with would be accurate. Attempting to make sense of a subject he only knew peripherally was pointless, but it didn’t stop his mind from trying.<br/>Almost making a caricature of the silence, a plate of two fried eggs and toast appeared onto the table in front of Harry, making him lean away from the table.<br/>"Why did<span style="font-style: italic">I </span>trigger a ward if I wasn’t the first to enter?" Harry eventually said, rephrasing the same question with a different infliction. Even listening attentively, Harry felt like Malfoy had glossed over that fact.<br/>Having lost his appetite, Harry placed it off to the side; Coote, from somewhere unseen, immediately put it under a cooking grade<span style="font-style: italic">stasis </span>to keep it warm. Harry didn’t lean back in, though he desperately wanted to, fingers itching to revisit the files. "I know tailored wards exist, obviously, but what about me would be different?"