Harry's eyes were wide as he felt the press of Oliver's lips along the back of his hand. Oliver seemed to be offering everything Harry had been longing for since Regulus had brought him back to himself. But Harry held no illusions that a relationship with his old friend would be as easy as accepting Oliver's offer.
Faelan aside, the very idea of being with Oliver made Harry remember how abruptly and completely Draco had left him. It had been Harry's fault for not being what Draco needed, and for not recognizing Draco's unhappiness in time to try. After Draco had left, he'd used their existing blood bond cruelly to force Harry to give up hope for reconciliation, and Harry had given up by abandoning his physical body during an alchemical ritual. Only Sirius' longing and Leila's light had brought Harry back to the physical world, where he'd been faced with ghosts and spirits running loose as well as Ron and Hermione's reunion and, later, Sirius' passing.
He shouldn't give Oliver false hope. Being with him would surely bring the other man misery or death. But Oliver's hands were gentle, and his eyes bright and filled with anticipation. Harry couldn't help but grip his hand tighter and nod. "Yes, all right."
There'd be time enough to let Oliver down easy after the hopeful warmth of the holidays had passed into the reality of a long, cold winter.