Draco was sitting in the dining hall alone with a copy of the Daily Prophet, his breakfast set out neatly on a silver tray. Two perfect sunny side up eggs and a slice of whole grain toast were nudged onto a white plate, and a black cup of coffee steamed clouds up to his left. He was had just showered after a good hour at the gym, and his arms were clean and strong underneath the sleeves of his t-shirt. His hair was damp and slicked casually away from his face, and he smelled faintly of cedar wood.
It was a stark contrast to the state of dishevelment his brother was in.
"What the hell did you do?" he demanded. His tone was forceful, but Draco didn't raise his voice. Years ago, Draco would have sputtered over his brother's embarrassing behaviour. He would have paced, and ranted on and on. Now, he only lowered his newspaper slightly so as to better stare down his younger sibling.