"I've had the same irritatingly snobby voice in my ear for the past decade. It's not interesting. It's routine," he sighed, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. As their server returned, Harry fell silent as their food was placed in front of them. He didn't speak again until she'd left. "It's not so much the fight. It's ... I said that as far as I was concerned I never pulled him out of that fire ... that I'd just let him die."
Harry really did think that was the problem. He didn't dig any deeper than that, whether it was simply because he didn't want to or he simply didn't think to, he couldn't say for sure. He let his guilt latch onto that and explain the reason he'd been so willing to help Malfoy and his friend. Not even Malfoy deserved having something like that said to them.
Suddenly his appetite was gone. The food that sat in front of him looked anything bit appetizing and he shoved it away and put his face in his hands. "Oliver was cut, but it wasn't to the extent the severing hex should have resulted in and Oliver wasn't pressing charges." It wasn't an excuse and he knew it. He wasn't trying to use it as an excuse, just as a means to clarify further what had happened.
"I don't know. I wasn't thinking. I just-" He just what? What reason had he thought was good enough to do something like this; risk his reputation and his job. Bloody hell, he'd be lucky to walk by the Auror department if this went into a formal inquiry. "I don't know."