Eight o’clock, tomorrow evening

“I wanted to say—I don’t want to see you at ten o’clock on Tuesday—”

“Yes, actually, you were quite clear—”

“—but I’d like to see you at eight o’clock tomorrow evening.”

Malfoy’s face was abruptly carefully, professionally blank.

“What?” he said eventually.

“For dinner,” Harry clarified. “Somewhere that isn’t the bloody Leaky Cauldron. If you’re free.”