Possessive, proactive Potter was fucking hot and Draco kissed him back with fervor. But when he pulled away Draco let him. Instead he settled back against the wall, right side pressed up against Potter's left.
"I never thought you were a saint," he half laughed. "I thought you were an idiot." Potter must have a warming charm on, and it was seeping into Dracos bones.
"Something different. We're already something different. So. Tomorrow. That's fine. I'm patient. When it matters."
Potter was worth waiting for. Always had been. Even if he was still absolutely an idiot.