The former and now again Slytherin prince looked up from his scattered newspapers as the stranger approached him. The man greeted him in French, a language that Draco had learned as a child. The language of aristocracy, and he seemed to have a preference for French, calling him monsieur. Well, that earned a token of appreciation in Draco's book from the start. And he was apparently a Slytherin, having greeted Draco within his own house. Score two points for this stranger.
"Far too much, yet nothing," returned Draco softly, knowing that it would be difficult to explain nearly four decades worth of wizarding history to this stranger. As that's about what time had passed since Draco's birth. He'd be nearing his thirty fourth birthday or so soon, if his math served him. At least, the Draco in this world would.
"You're one of the strangers here, aren't you?" he questioned, curious. He shifted briefly so he was looking a the newcomer, rather than continue with his work.