Harry comes all over the bed, groaning. I withdraw my finger from the clench of his warm body… lean down and leave a kiss at his cleft, trail my mouth over to a bumcheek and bite a new kiss there, too.

"Fuck you," Harry laughs, swatting at my head with a tired hand and missing.

"Still want that shower?" I ask.

He snorts. "It's gone from a want to a need, I think."

I chuckle and help him roll over and stand. He smirks, glancing down and then palming my hard cock through my trousers. "Merlin, Draco, you have the self-control of a Hufflepuff."

I scoff. "Fucked a lot of Hufflepuffs, have you?"

He rolls his eyes, tugging on my belt. It jangles open. But before he can strip me entirely, I curl my hand into his wind-and-sex-tousled hair and pull him into a kiss.

He hums. I love how Harry hums when I kiss him. I turn my head and he parts his lips further. It's the sort of kiss that slows time. I pull him to me, his hot naked body filling my arms, his strong hands stroking along my back. I have the stray thought that I love him. It's a thought that tends to recur like the tides. It never stops coming in, over and over, sometimes coaxingly, sometimes with the sudden ferocity of a storm, even though I rarely find the courage to voice it.

Harry breaks the kiss and gives my arse a slap. "Meet me in there," he says, leaving me to undress. I watch his arse shift in that lovely way it has when he walks from a room. I watch him go, a guilty pleasure, as I slowly pull my belt from its loops.

~

It's Sunday again, and I'm hung over from having our friends here for a dinner party the night before. I wince at the whistle of the tea kettle, my second pot. Harry, the fucker, is tying his trainers, getting ready to run. I can think of no better torture for my pounding head, but Harry? Oh no, he's fine.

"Back soon," he calls, and I turn to give him a tired smile.

The door closes definitively, and the flat goes quiet again. It's not an unpleasant quiet. It's the subtle shift in the room as his pulsing magic fades away and the soft lapping thrum of mine replaces it.

I take my tea and walk to the window, seeing that Harry is still on the pavement, doing a little stretch. He looks ridiculous in that Muggle sweatshirt. I find that I'm smiling down on him like a ponce, and it's then that he turns his face up and sees me. He smiles back, teeth and all, and my whole body, for just that moment, rejoices.

He gives a jaunty wave and then takes off at a jog down the street, on his way to the water. I watch his feet slap the ground, the train-steam of his breath, until he's around a corner and out of sight. I inhale the jasmine fragrance of my tea slowly as the sun breaks through the clouds.