"Yeah, thought so, mate," Weasley said with a broad grin after a brief pause, and clumped merrily up the stairs, whistling, as though the last five minutes had meant nothing to him. And maybe they hadn’t, to Weasley. More likely, though, he’d enjoyed it. Draco hadn’t. For what felt like the hundredth time in the past few months, Draco experienced the horrible knowledge that someone he had once despised and looked down on was right, and he had been wrong. Draco was exactly what Weasley had said he was. He could have gone and sat down on his new, comfortable bed, but he didn’t. No, Draco belonged exactly where he was.