It was true that Draco was younger than most of them here. That bit wouldn't change. The Slytherin studied the redhead when she stepped into the tavern, and what she was wearing caused him to lift a brow suspiciously. He was going to write her wearing that jumper off as a sign that she was missing her mum, because he'd seen her in better clothing since coming here. Don't comment on it, he told himself bitterly. Play nice. That's what your aunt wanted and what Severus is pushing for. Fine. I can play nice. Just watch.
He glanced across at her when she sat down and motioned belatedly. "Please, do have a seat," he returned haughtily. "And stop putting words in my mouth. I said I'm buying you a drink and I am. Think whatever else you'd like about this. Now then, what'll it be?"
Grey eyes shifted to meet hers and he scanned her up and down once before returning to stare directly at her. This place messed with them sometimes, honestly it did. How could they be here, in a place, and have people brought from different times? How did it even work?