An hour later, several glasses of quite good wine had managed to loosen Harry's tongue. Youre an owl beyond compare, Ignatius. Such golden feathers. Such intelligent black eyes. Face like a white heart. Devastatingly good-looking. Mollified, Ignatius let Harry stroke him. It was nice. Harry hadnt had an owl since Hedwig.
Why does no one ever talk to me that way? Malfoy asked idly, gazing at the ceiling.
Malfoy, you are an owl beyond compare
He cannot pass by without touching and moving and shaping and changing every thing, every boy-city, in his path.