At the request for the magic word, Draco stared back evenly. "I don't reckon you'd want to hear any magic words I would like to say," he retorted, and deciding to add to insult, "and I don't need a wand to cast many spells, thank you very much." Because of his mission, Draco had trained in wandless magic, determined to do whatever he needed to do so he would have the upper hand. He wasn't perfect with it and had worked hard to achieve what he could.
But thank goodness. He not only had a son, but a Slytherin to boot. And Potter had a Slytherin son, as well. Fascinating. But now wasn't the time to dwell on these details, as much as Draco may like the idea. He pushed forward past the young man, brushing roughly against his shoulder as he walked by. "I can more than handle myself," Draco sneered back. "Whatever you may know of me, you don't know me. You may know a version of me, but I assure you, we are not the same. Not yet, at least. So I'll find my room on my own."