Prefect duties. Draco kept the wishful look off his face, but only from years of training and control. Oh, how he wished he could have that sense of normalcy again. "Er, no, it wasn't," Draco returned quietly, feeling downright awful for lying to someone who he respected as much as Severus. Remus knew. Why in hell couldn't he share the news with Severus, someone who he knew would have enough decorum not to go spreading the word to anyone else? Well, then. He'd see first if Severus could guess who he was, or at least hint that he recognized the old Malfoy charm. That way, if he were questioned by Hermione, he could use the "I couldn't lie" excuse, knowing she'd fall for it out of all of them. Grinning a little then, Draco used all of his father's quirks, as grandly as he could.
Sitting poised straight up on the bed, Draco tilted his chin upward then looked down at the other--a habit of his father's, especially when the man was younger. Lucius had perfected the technique and Draco had learned it from him. Too bad my hair's not long like Father's. It'd be a dead give-away then. Draco smiled charmingly, letting that old Malfoy smile creep onto his lips and the superior, "I'm-better-than-thou" expression fall onto his face. Ha. That was enough for now. He'd have fun this with, surely.