Albus followed diligently, not pausing until Scorpius instructed him to and settling quietly at the table. He listened to everything he had to say, frowning and resting his elbows on the table. He put his hands together clasped, resting his chin atop them. He was tense, eyes sharper than usual. It was a rare show of anxiety that Scorpius would recognize but he couldn't quite rein it in.

"'Course they did, because they haven't got proper eyes." As though Albus didn't just have the experience to tell the difference easily. And a Draco that was far older. Finally he sighed, trying to process everything properly. "So he's been here since he was eighteen?" He could understand how being in a place where no one knew about the war would be appealing. It sounded appealing to him, even.

He feels really tired suddenly, more so than before. "Can I ask you something?"