Percy released an unsteady breath that he hadn't been aware he was holding. He couldn't deny that Draco on top of him was affecting him, which disturbed him, and made him incredibily nervous. "You're not my enemy," he murmured. "Just a prat." Percy didn't think he had any enemies, but that was beyond the point. The point was that Draco was on top of him, leaned down and pressed against him, whispering in his ear with warm breath that washed over his skin. It made him shudder, and it was not a shudder of displeasure.