Though they had both obviously aged, Harry knew he’d be kidding himself if he said he’d aged quite as gracefully as Draco had. Tending to favour long, sweeping robes that ended below his knees, and with his platinum hair coifed smartly out of his eyes, he certainly cut a striking figure when he crossed the atrium. He managed to exude the air of grace and elegance his father had had before him, without the side of sneering disgust. Harry, meanwhile, had mostly retained his seeker-esque physique, being not especially tall but maintaining a decent amount of lean muscle. His hair was just as wild as it had ever been, giving the constant impression that he’d only just rolled out of bed and dragged himself to work, only now he often had stubble to really drive home the haggard impression. The faint, tired bags under his eyes only added to his mildly erratic appearance - like he was both on the verge of something brilliant or falling asleep unexpectedly.