Draco just sort of stared at Harry for a moment, setting his mind through a series of small mathematical tasks in an attempt to erase that comment about him being in love with Harry Potter from his memory. Even if it had been a joke, it was one made in exceptionally poor taste. Extremely poor taste. Draco would rather fall off his broom into the nest of an offended dragon than be anywhere near Harry ever. He was only here now because there was no way he was going to seek out that former Weasley-slag Lavender Brown--and if that really had been his mother he'd just spoken too well.
No. He wasn't dealing with it.
"If this is really '79." Draco sneered (he couldn't help but sneer. His voice sort of did it naturally). "Then Hogwarts. Albus Dumlbedore. Really, are you completely useless without other people around to tell you what to do? And I say that hoping that you never took advice from that bloody Weasley..."