Draco, who had been staring daggers at Dale down the table, reluctantly turned his back on the seventh year to face Harry, "Yes," he practically hissed the word, before taking in a deep calming breath, "Just that buffoon trying to dictate who can and can’t have which dessert," he paused, eyes fixed on the slice of treacle tart that Harry was already half way through eating, "but you haven’t even had your dinner yet," he said, sounding faintly bewildered.