"Is this one of those beliefs children have, where if I water him enough, he'll just sprout up and join you?" He teased, slowing down for a couple of steps just to see what kind of dark look she shot him in return. Once his fun was had, he sped back up, leading the way much more accurately than his tiny sister. "Gryffindors, for the record, always cheat. They seem to believe that rules are beneath them," he informed her with an air of knowingness. "Ravenclaws, on the other hand, are actually that smart, and probably manage to simply find secret ways of wheedling extra points out of the professors."

A smirk was shot her way. "I can't. That's insane. That means there are far too many of you. Perhaps they've counted someone twice?"

There were some things that even nearly two decades couldn't change, and that was the proper Malfoy upbringing. It was full of snark and affection and wry smirks that Draco had mastered ages ago. And yes, they were both geniuses. That meant there was much more room for stupid questions, though: it was a rule of being a genius. "He does not drool. If he does, he's doing it on you, on purpose. Perhaps to get payback for you suggesting that he drools."