Something about the way Credence reacts strikes an unexpected chord in Draco's chest. There was just something about it, some shade of if that made Draco think of the way he felt when his father scolded him. When he felt the firm tap of the cane against his shoulder. His father never struck him with it, but he didn't need to when his disapproval stung deep enough.

"Didn't mean to," he sneered, mockingly. He added something, muttering under his breath, that included the word "creepy." Then with a huff of breath he added, "Didn't mean to what exactly?" As if he was trying to be patient. The question was far from tolerant, but he was exhausted and had little left in the way of emotional resources. It was an attempt at something. What, he wasn't sure.