Draco watched each of them leave. He monitored his breathing, allowing his stance to loosen, even though every muscle was still taut.
Weasley was almost an Auror now. It wouldn't do to pick a fight with the lowlife just to please his own sense of superiority. He didn't need the Ministry coming to the Manor for a visit. He had little he was hiding, but his father and his cousin were two personages that the Ministry did not need to know had returned.
How Malfoy Manor had become a shelter for wayward dead Death Eaters, he wasn't sure, but he wanted the charity to end with blood relatives.
You would want Aunt Bellatrix to be in the house?
OK, not all relatives. How about the dead stop at the two currently residing in the Manor? He could be quite content with that.
Now, however, he still had to focus on the imbeciles leaving his company. He ensured they were gone, settled somewhere away from him, and he sat back down. Frowning, he looked at his ruined paper and equally ruined tea. Sodding uncouth miserable excuse for a wizard, Weasley was.
There had to be a way to repay him. Without Ministry intervention. He stared at them from the corner of his eye, then shook his head. There would be time for that later. He would find a way. He would ensure they were paid back.
Turning to his soppy interlude, he pulled out a few coins and dropped them on the table, then headed to the bar. On his way there, he smirked. Spite was a spectacular muse, had always been his most dear inspiration. He pulled out a handful of coins, spoke in hushed tones to Rosmerta and left.
No matter what the Ministry may or may not say no matter that his father, were he still dead, would roll over in his grave. Draco Malfoy would prove he was a gentleman, if it killed him in the process. After all, revenge was sweetest when you destroyed your opposition completely.