The sound of his name broke him from his reverie, and he scowled as he looked up, only to have his face relax into something closer to a smile.
"I have a way of doing that. Bad sickle and all," he said, taking the hand and shaking it firmly. The older boy had always been something of a mentor to him in a way, one of the first to firmly look at what he did and not the disgrace of part of what he was, even if he tried his best to keep it a secret.
"That bad?" Part of him wondered if Lucius Malfoy had any idea what a truly horrendous day was like, but he certainly would never indicate that, his expression completely even and at ease.