Harry sat for a moment and considered what he had said. Draco was right - he’d been a slim teenager and eventually a lithe adult, but for the first few weeks after the school holidays he had always been particularly skinny. He glanced at his own wrists and tried to superimpose the memory of his thirty-five-year-old wrist on top of what was in front of him, and they were noticeably smaller - not drastically so, but enough. He sighed, slapped his lap, and stood abruptly.