More from the "Training" Series...let me know whatcha think!
Title: Training: Seeing is Believing
Pairing: H/D
Rating: Nc-17
Disclaimer: Not mine, don’t own, don’t sue.
Summary: Sometimes what you see isn’t what you get.
Their first weekend living together, Harry had discovered some interesting things about Draco.
It was the kind of stuff Harry would never have taken notice of before; the sort of things that you never realize about someone you know and love until you’re forced to share space with them for a continued period of time.
And they were mostly things that came to light because they differed so drastically from Harry’s normal routine.
There was the running, which Harry had known before, but which actually came with the addition of overall physical awareness; Draco was apparently under the impression that his body was, in fact, a temple, and that junk food and beer were entirely sacrilegious.
The following observation that threw Harry a bit was that Draco didn’t really eat very much. He had a birdlike tendency to consume very small amounts at frequent intervals, and Harry, having been taught the Weasley ways of home cooking, found this utterly bizarre. Draco would sneer at Harry’s carefully prepared lasagna and opt for an apple instead, blathering on about carbs and good versus bad sugars as Harry ate. Then he would go execute several sets of crunches in the living room, as if the very contemplation of pasta might have made him gain weight.
Not that Harry minded; the payoff was Draco’s toned self wandering shirtless around his house, so he couldn’t find much to complain about. However, it did strike him that Draco was an extremely deliberate being; he was trim and well-muscled because he intended to be so, whereas Harry had more or less become accidentally strong due to Quidditch and all the evil-battling. Draco was thin because he had a disciplined eating regime, and Harry was thin because….well, he hadn’t been fed properly for the first eleven years of his life.
Even the ways they initiated sex was different. Draco would go momentarily quiet, which Harry had realized he only did when he was deep in thought. Harry would leave him alone to contemplate, thinking that whatever it was, Draco would tell him when he was ready. Moments later Harry would be doing something mundane like washing dishes and Draco would enter the room with desire sparkling in his eyes, his movements swift and calculated. Harry could almost see lust rolling off of Draco, who would lean in and use a low, soft voice, almost a growl, and say whatever it was that had made his eyes go silver and iridescent….
“I was thinking how wonderful you would look tied to the bed…”
“I was thinking about that moment, right after you come, when you’re still inside me…”
“I was thinking that I want to watch you get yourself off and then let me suck you clean..”
….and Harry would get completely distracted from whatever menial task he was doing. Draco loved to slowly undress Harry as he talked, loved to watch Harry get hard before ever even touching him; something in Draco reveled in Harry having such a physical reaction to mental and emotional stimulation rather than direct groping.
Harry was much less premeditated. One second he would be leaning in to place a simple kiss on Draco’s mouth, a thank you for making the bed or a small way to communicate affection, and the next he would be pressing Draco against whatever flat surface was available, tangling his fingers roughly in Draco’s hair, tongue insistent in Draco’s mouth as he forced the blonde’s thighs apart and entered him with fire coursing through his body, his brain a thick miasma of sound and stimulation and Draco.
There were other, smaller things, too. Like that Draco was a very quick reader, and he had a habit of picking up anything with print and examining it thoroughly if he was forced to sit down for more than ten seconds. He was a lively person, always moving somehow, always thinking, eyes alight and intelligent, movements graceful and continuous. Harry wondered if Draco ever relaxed the way normal people did.
The thought stuck in his mind that Draco might not be fully comfortable living with Harry yet; things had moved so quickly, there had been zero time for adjustment. Harry went back and forth between writing off Draco’s animated behavior as just the way Draco was and being completely convinced that it was an act, and that no one could be on all the time like that without totally exhausting themselves.
That Monday, Harry got his answer.
Things had started innocently enough; he and Draco had wandered in together, Ron had pulled his “Dear God Why is This Still My Reality” face, but followed it with a reluctant half-grin and Malfoy had given the slightest nod in Ron’s direction to acknowledge that he differentiated between Harry’s best friend and the inanimate objects in the room.
Heart-warming gestures completed, the three of them began to walk towards the locker rooms together, Malfoy chattering loudly at Harry’s left, Ron shaking his head in what was either disbelief or an attempt to make himself go deaf.
“We should really be learning about procedure in hostage situations, those arise very frequently and they’re often the most complicated to deal with,” Malfoy was saying, “I mean, negotiation is an essential tool in the..”
“Draco!” Hannah Abbot had appeared beside them, walking quickly to keep up with their long strides, and Harry realized that he had never really sorted that whole situation out…
She had her hand on Draco’s wrist, lightly enough, but clearly intending to speak to him alone. Harry watched her eyes search Draco’s, and wondered what she wanted.
Draco seemed to hesitate momentarily before turning back to Ron and Harry and saying, “You boys go ahead, I’ll catch up with you.”
He gave Harry a small wink, which drew a sound of disgust from Ron, but made Harry feel better about the whole thing.
“What’s that about, d’you suppose?” Ron asked as they continued towards the locker room.
“Dunno.” Harry said truthfully, “They’re friends though, so maybe she just needs to talk for a second.”
“Don’t you wonder why she couldn’t say it in front of us?” Ron asked, suspicion evident as he glanced back at Draco and Hannah’s retreating forms.
“Well…well, yeah…but I don’t think its anything that I should worry about.”
“You sure?”
“Yes,” Harry said, somewhat irritated by all this addition to jealousy that was already quite vociferous enough in his head without Ron’s encouragement, “I know how to keep my man.”
Ron’s horrorstruck face was just as satisfying as Harry had expected.
“Harry, I’m trying my best to be supportive here, so in the interest of me keeping my temper and my breakfast down, please never say anything like that again.”
They laughed and talked about Quidditch and Hermione and the possibility of doing dinner, the four of them, even though Harry wasn’t particularly keen on forcing that situation before its time. As they emerged from the locker room, Harry automatically searched the arena for Draco’s pale form.
He was nowhere in sight.
Frowning, Harry searched instead for Hannah, who was slouched against a wall looking furious and tense. When she caught Harry staring at her, her blue eyes ignited with some impassioned emotion, and she turned on her heel, moving quickly towards the exit.
Harry had a very bad feeling about this.
Ron, having witnessed the whole exchange, took it upon himself to attempt acting as if nothing was wrong in the hopes that Harry would follow suit.
Harry tried, telling himself repeatedly that there was nothing to worry about.
When lunch break came around, and Draco still hadn’t reappeared, Harry found himself much less convincing than he had earlier. He was anxious, nervous pressure had balled thickly in his stomach, and he made a split decision.
“Ron, I’ll be back soon.”
“What? Where are you going?” Ron looked up from a sandwich that he had brought with him that looked suspiciously similar to ones Hermione used to make back at school, sliced neatly and with precision Ron could never master.
“I have to check something at my apartment.” Harry left it at that, hoping that Ron would connect the dots or just eat his sandwich and not think about it at all.
He Apparated with a crack into his living room, not even taking a second to orient himself, and started walking towards the bedroom.
He stopped dead at the foot of the stairs. There were clothes strewn all over the floor, hastily discarded slacks, the white button down that Draco had been wearing earlier was hanging off the banister.
Fastidious Draco never left clothes around unless…..unless…
Flashes of memories flickered in Harry’s mind, moments of wild passion and tearing off clothing, Draco peeling hastily at his shirts and throwing them haphazardly around to get his hands back onto Harry…trousers left in various places around the house, dropped quickly and replaced by skin on skin…..
He bounded up the stairs, practically running into the bedroom, anger and apprehension overheating in his head and fueling his footsteps.
He wrenched open the bedroom door, again stopping completely at what he saw.
Draco was curled up in bed, fast asleep and completely alone.
Harry felt relief and confusion flood him at once, almost dizzy from the combination, and he moved towards the bed slowly, amazed that Draco hadn’t woken when he Apparated, or when he took the stairs at a dead run, or when he practically ripped the bedroom door off its hinges in a jealous rage.
He toed out of his shoes beside the bed, crawling in next to Draco and placing a small kiss on his jaw. Only then did Draco begin to stir.
Small slits of silver adjusted to the light, a small frown wrinkling Draco’s smooth countenance.
“Hey.” Harry said softly, lifting a hand to run his fingers through Draco’s slightly mussed hair. “I was wondering where you’d got to.”
Draco took a deep breath, sighing and letting his eyes close again. He pushed his face towards Harry’s hand and lightly kissed Harry’s wrist.
“I was tired.” Draco’s voice was low and gravelly from sleep, his eyes still closed.
“Are you going to tell me what happened with Hannah?”
Draco’s eyes came open, “Do I have to?”
“Well….I guess not. But you just disappeared and she….well she looked ready to impale me on something, so…..”
“Did she?” Suddenly the gravel was gone from Draco’s voice.
“Impale me on something? No.”
“I meant,” Draco started, then hesitated. He looked at Harry quietly, blinking in the afternoon sun. “I confused her, I suppose, and now she’s upset. It’s understandable.”
“How did you confuse her?”
“I flirted with her. More to get your attention than anything else, but she took it seriously.” Draco’s voice was harsh, like he was angry with himself.
“She’s really that pissed?”
“She called me a liar.” Draco said with a minor shrug, “Not that I haven’t been called worse, but she….she also…” he closed his eyes again, breathing deeply before continuing in a rush, “she was even more upset when I told her about us….she said I used people and that I was just like my father.”
Harry waited, deciding that now was not the best time to make one of his disastrous attempts at saying the right thing.
Draco opened his eyes, which were over bright and wide awake now, “And I try not to be, I really try, but sometimes……sometimes I think she’s right.”
Harry stayed quiet, simply reaching out and lacing his fingers around Draco’s, applying a strong pressure.
“Anyway,” Draco continued, “I guess I’m just sick of the effort.”
“So you decided to take a nap?” Harry asked, smiling slightly.
Draco gave another half shrug, “Seemed a nice idea. Just forget about things for awhile. It gets a little wearing, to be honest.”
“What does?”
“Remembering all the things I shouldn’t be.” Draco’s clear eyes locked with Harry’s, his smile twisting.
Harry just looked back for a moment, remembering a time when Draco had seemed so much like his father, and it seemed another life, a different universe when he had compared them.
He quietly slid closer to Draco, aligning their bodies and pressing against him, solid and warm, wrapping an arm up around Draco’s shoulders.
He brushed their lips together, drawing a soft exhale from Draco, and whispering “I love you,” into Draco’s mouth.
Draco kissed back with hunger, a hand running up Harry’s chest under his shirt to press firmly against his collarbone.
Harry broke from the kiss to murmur heatedly, “Want you,” and Draco pressed his slim form against Harry’s, hard and wanting and already naked, as Harry traced Draco’s spine with his fingers, reached down and tightened his grip territorially on Draco’s ass, feeling the smooth skin under his fingertips, “Want all of you,” he growled against Draco’s throat.
Draco’s head went back with a heavy moan as he reached down to tug fiercely at Harry’s waistband, undoing his belt and grasping Harry’s cock in his hand, pumping slowly.
Harry leaned back to pull off his clothes, watching between discarded tangles of sheets and shirt as Draco readjusted, twisting so that his back was flat against the mattress, his blond head propped up by pillows. Harry kneeled back down between Draco’s legs, feeling Draco wind his thighs around Harry’s hips and wondering if anything could look as beautiful as Draco sprawled beneath him, arching up to rub against him.
Harry prepared Draco quickly; stretching him and watching him contort and fuck himself against Harry’s fingers, waiting for that sound…
“God,” Draco breathed, flushed from heat and Harry pressed against him, “God, Harry, please, be inside me…”
And Harry couldn’t resist, lost as he was to Draco’s imperious commands, he was even more at the whim of his needy begging. He pressed inside Draco, kissing him with fire even as they both moaned on each other’s tongues. Draco’s breathing was coming fast, and Harry could hear himself saying something, clouded by the sensation of Draco around him and intent on pressing farther into him, getting inside him in every way possible….
He hit that place inside of Draco that made him spasm against him, hands shaking and trying to find purchase on Harry’s shoulder blades, mouth slack and open, receiving Harry’s rough kisses as he came between them, rubbing against Harry’s stomach and sliding perfect and wet…
Harry came inside Draco and bit down on his throat at once, jerking his hips through the onslaught and sucking on Draco’s pulse point, gripping a slim hipbone in one hand with blond tangles wrapped around the other and feeling the cooling rush of air from Draco’s lips against his cheek.
He looked down into Draco’s face as he tried to catch his breath, feeling Draco’s chest press against his with every inhale, staying inside that wonderful place as long as he could.
Draco was pink and sweaty, a red bite mark marring his perfect neck.
“Tell me,” Harry said softly, “that I’m the only one who gets to see you like this.”
“Harry,” Draco said with a small smile, “you’re the only one who gets to see me at all.”
Pairing: H/D
Rating: Nc-17
Disclaimer: Not mine, don’t own, don’t sue.
Summary: Sometimes what you see isn’t what you get.
Their first weekend living together, Harry had discovered some interesting things about Draco.
It was the kind of stuff Harry would never have taken notice of before; the sort of things that you never realize about someone you know and love until you’re forced to share space with them for a continued period of time.
And they were mostly things that came to light because they differed so drastically from Harry’s normal routine.
There was the running, which Harry had known before, but which actually came with the addition of overall physical awareness; Draco was apparently under the impression that his body was, in fact, a temple, and that junk food and beer were entirely sacrilegious.
The following observation that threw Harry a bit was that Draco didn’t really eat very much. He had a birdlike tendency to consume very small amounts at frequent intervals, and Harry, having been taught the Weasley ways of home cooking, found this utterly bizarre. Draco would sneer at Harry’s carefully prepared lasagna and opt for an apple instead, blathering on about carbs and good versus bad sugars as Harry ate. Then he would go execute several sets of crunches in the living room, as if the very contemplation of pasta might have made him gain weight.
Not that Harry minded; the payoff was Draco’s toned self wandering shirtless around his house, so he couldn’t find much to complain about. However, it did strike him that Draco was an extremely deliberate being; he was trim and well-muscled because he intended to be so, whereas Harry had more or less become accidentally strong due to Quidditch and all the evil-battling. Draco was thin because he had a disciplined eating regime, and Harry was thin because….well, he hadn’t been fed properly for the first eleven years of his life.
Even the ways they initiated sex was different. Draco would go momentarily quiet, which Harry had realized he only did when he was deep in thought. Harry would leave him alone to contemplate, thinking that whatever it was, Draco would tell him when he was ready. Moments later Harry would be doing something mundane like washing dishes and Draco would enter the room with desire sparkling in his eyes, his movements swift and calculated. Harry could almost see lust rolling off of Draco, who would lean in and use a low, soft voice, almost a growl, and say whatever it was that had made his eyes go silver and iridescent….
“I was thinking how wonderful you would look tied to the bed…”
“I was thinking about that moment, right after you come, when you’re still inside me…”
“I was thinking that I want to watch you get yourself off and then let me suck you clean..”
….and Harry would get completely distracted from whatever menial task he was doing. Draco loved to slowly undress Harry as he talked, loved to watch Harry get hard before ever even touching him; something in Draco reveled in Harry having such a physical reaction to mental and emotional stimulation rather than direct groping.
Harry was much less premeditated. One second he would be leaning in to place a simple kiss on Draco’s mouth, a thank you for making the bed or a small way to communicate affection, and the next he would be pressing Draco against whatever flat surface was available, tangling his fingers roughly in Draco’s hair, tongue insistent in Draco’s mouth as he forced the blonde’s thighs apart and entered him with fire coursing through his body, his brain a thick miasma of sound and stimulation and Draco.
There were other, smaller things, too. Like that Draco was a very quick reader, and he had a habit of picking up anything with print and examining it thoroughly if he was forced to sit down for more than ten seconds. He was a lively person, always moving somehow, always thinking, eyes alight and intelligent, movements graceful and continuous. Harry wondered if Draco ever relaxed the way normal people did.
The thought stuck in his mind that Draco might not be fully comfortable living with Harry yet; things had moved so quickly, there had been zero time for adjustment. Harry went back and forth between writing off Draco’s animated behavior as just the way Draco was and being completely convinced that it was an act, and that no one could be on all the time like that without totally exhausting themselves.
That Monday, Harry got his answer.
Things had started innocently enough; he and Draco had wandered in together, Ron had pulled his “Dear God Why is This Still My Reality” face, but followed it with a reluctant half-grin and Malfoy had given the slightest nod in Ron’s direction to acknowledge that he differentiated between Harry’s best friend and the inanimate objects in the room.
Heart-warming gestures completed, the three of them began to walk towards the locker rooms together, Malfoy chattering loudly at Harry’s left, Ron shaking his head in what was either disbelief or an attempt to make himself go deaf.
“We should really be learning about procedure in hostage situations, those arise very frequently and they’re often the most complicated to deal with,” Malfoy was saying, “I mean, negotiation is an essential tool in the..”
“Draco!” Hannah Abbot had appeared beside them, walking quickly to keep up with their long strides, and Harry realized that he had never really sorted that whole situation out…
She had her hand on Draco’s wrist, lightly enough, but clearly intending to speak to him alone. Harry watched her eyes search Draco’s, and wondered what she wanted.
Draco seemed to hesitate momentarily before turning back to Ron and Harry and saying, “You boys go ahead, I’ll catch up with you.”
He gave Harry a small wink, which drew a sound of disgust from Ron, but made Harry feel better about the whole thing.
“What’s that about, d’you suppose?” Ron asked as they continued towards the locker room.
“Dunno.” Harry said truthfully, “They’re friends though, so maybe she just needs to talk for a second.”
“Don’t you wonder why she couldn’t say it in front of us?” Ron asked, suspicion evident as he glanced back at Draco and Hannah’s retreating forms.
“Well…well, yeah…but I don’t think its anything that I should worry about.”
“You sure?”
“Yes,” Harry said, somewhat irritated by all this addition to jealousy that was already quite vociferous enough in his head without Ron’s encouragement, “I know how to keep my man.”
Ron’s horrorstruck face was just as satisfying as Harry had expected.
“Harry, I’m trying my best to be supportive here, so in the interest of me keeping my temper and my breakfast down, please never say anything like that again.”
They laughed and talked about Quidditch and Hermione and the possibility of doing dinner, the four of them, even though Harry wasn’t particularly keen on forcing that situation before its time. As they emerged from the locker room, Harry automatically searched the arena for Draco’s pale form.
He was nowhere in sight.
Frowning, Harry searched instead for Hannah, who was slouched against a wall looking furious and tense. When she caught Harry staring at her, her blue eyes ignited with some impassioned emotion, and she turned on her heel, moving quickly towards the exit.
Harry had a very bad feeling about this.
Ron, having witnessed the whole exchange, took it upon himself to attempt acting as if nothing was wrong in the hopes that Harry would follow suit.
Harry tried, telling himself repeatedly that there was nothing to worry about.
When lunch break came around, and Draco still hadn’t reappeared, Harry found himself much less convincing than he had earlier. He was anxious, nervous pressure had balled thickly in his stomach, and he made a split decision.
“Ron, I’ll be back soon.”
“What? Where are you going?” Ron looked up from a sandwich that he had brought with him that looked suspiciously similar to ones Hermione used to make back at school, sliced neatly and with precision Ron could never master.
“I have to check something at my apartment.” Harry left it at that, hoping that Ron would connect the dots or just eat his sandwich and not think about it at all.
He Apparated with a crack into his living room, not even taking a second to orient himself, and started walking towards the bedroom.
He stopped dead at the foot of the stairs. There were clothes strewn all over the floor, hastily discarded slacks, the white button down that Draco had been wearing earlier was hanging off the banister.
Fastidious Draco never left clothes around unless…..unless…
Flashes of memories flickered in Harry’s mind, moments of wild passion and tearing off clothing, Draco peeling hastily at his shirts and throwing them haphazardly around to get his hands back onto Harry…trousers left in various places around the house, dropped quickly and replaced by skin on skin…..
He bounded up the stairs, practically running into the bedroom, anger and apprehension overheating in his head and fueling his footsteps.
He wrenched open the bedroom door, again stopping completely at what he saw.
Draco was curled up in bed, fast asleep and completely alone.
Harry felt relief and confusion flood him at once, almost dizzy from the combination, and he moved towards the bed slowly, amazed that Draco hadn’t woken when he Apparated, or when he took the stairs at a dead run, or when he practically ripped the bedroom door off its hinges in a jealous rage.
He toed out of his shoes beside the bed, crawling in next to Draco and placing a small kiss on his jaw. Only then did Draco begin to stir.
Small slits of silver adjusted to the light, a small frown wrinkling Draco’s smooth countenance.
“Hey.” Harry said softly, lifting a hand to run his fingers through Draco’s slightly mussed hair. “I was wondering where you’d got to.”
Draco took a deep breath, sighing and letting his eyes close again. He pushed his face towards Harry’s hand and lightly kissed Harry’s wrist.
“I was tired.” Draco’s voice was low and gravelly from sleep, his eyes still closed.
“Are you going to tell me what happened with Hannah?”
Draco’s eyes came open, “Do I have to?”
“Well….I guess not. But you just disappeared and she….well she looked ready to impale me on something, so…..”
“Did she?” Suddenly the gravel was gone from Draco’s voice.
“Impale me on something? No.”
“I meant,” Draco started, then hesitated. He looked at Harry quietly, blinking in the afternoon sun. “I confused her, I suppose, and now she’s upset. It’s understandable.”
“How did you confuse her?”
“I flirted with her. More to get your attention than anything else, but she took it seriously.” Draco’s voice was harsh, like he was angry with himself.
“She’s really that pissed?”
“She called me a liar.” Draco said with a minor shrug, “Not that I haven’t been called worse, but she….she also…” he closed his eyes again, breathing deeply before continuing in a rush, “she was even more upset when I told her about us….she said I used people and that I was just like my father.”
Harry waited, deciding that now was not the best time to make one of his disastrous attempts at saying the right thing.
Draco opened his eyes, which were over bright and wide awake now, “And I try not to be, I really try, but sometimes……sometimes I think she’s right.”
Harry stayed quiet, simply reaching out and lacing his fingers around Draco’s, applying a strong pressure.
“Anyway,” Draco continued, “I guess I’m just sick of the effort.”
“So you decided to take a nap?” Harry asked, smiling slightly.
Draco gave another half shrug, “Seemed a nice idea. Just forget about things for awhile. It gets a little wearing, to be honest.”
“What does?”
“Remembering all the things I shouldn’t be.” Draco’s clear eyes locked with Harry’s, his smile twisting.
Harry just looked back for a moment, remembering a time when Draco had seemed so much like his father, and it seemed another life, a different universe when he had compared them.
He quietly slid closer to Draco, aligning their bodies and pressing against him, solid and warm, wrapping an arm up around Draco’s shoulders.
He brushed their lips together, drawing a soft exhale from Draco, and whispering “I love you,” into Draco’s mouth.
Draco kissed back with hunger, a hand running up Harry’s chest under his shirt to press firmly against his collarbone.
Harry broke from the kiss to murmur heatedly, “Want you,” and Draco pressed his slim form against Harry’s, hard and wanting and already naked, as Harry traced Draco’s spine with his fingers, reached down and tightened his grip territorially on Draco’s ass, feeling the smooth skin under his fingertips, “Want all of you,” he growled against Draco’s throat.
Draco’s head went back with a heavy moan as he reached down to tug fiercely at Harry’s waistband, undoing his belt and grasping Harry’s cock in his hand, pumping slowly.
Harry leaned back to pull off his clothes, watching between discarded tangles of sheets and shirt as Draco readjusted, twisting so that his back was flat against the mattress, his blond head propped up by pillows. Harry kneeled back down between Draco’s legs, feeling Draco wind his thighs around Harry’s hips and wondering if anything could look as beautiful as Draco sprawled beneath him, arching up to rub against him.
Harry prepared Draco quickly; stretching him and watching him contort and fuck himself against Harry’s fingers, waiting for that sound…
“God,” Draco breathed, flushed from heat and Harry pressed against him, “God, Harry, please, be inside me…”
And Harry couldn’t resist, lost as he was to Draco’s imperious commands, he was even more at the whim of his needy begging. He pressed inside Draco, kissing him with fire even as they both moaned on each other’s tongues. Draco’s breathing was coming fast, and Harry could hear himself saying something, clouded by the sensation of Draco around him and intent on pressing farther into him, getting inside him in every way possible….
He hit that place inside of Draco that made him spasm against him, hands shaking and trying to find purchase on Harry’s shoulder blades, mouth slack and open, receiving Harry’s rough kisses as he came between them, rubbing against Harry’s stomach and sliding perfect and wet…
Harry came inside Draco and bit down on his throat at once, jerking his hips through the onslaught and sucking on Draco’s pulse point, gripping a slim hipbone in one hand with blond tangles wrapped around the other and feeling the cooling rush of air from Draco’s lips against his cheek.
He looked down into Draco’s face as he tried to catch his breath, feeling Draco’s chest press against his with every inhale, staying inside that wonderful place as long as he could.
Draco was pink and sweaty, a red bite mark marring his perfect neck.
“Tell me,” Harry said softly, “that I’m the only one who gets to see you like this.”
“Harry,” Draco said with a small smile, “you’re the only one who gets to see me at all.”