Harry held his breath as they walked, reality catching up to him. This was going to be more than desperate kisses or a grope in the hall. It had been months since he flirted like a loon on the Leaky dance floor, more than a year since Regulus, more than a few years since Draco -- part of Harry wanted to race ahead to the point when shagging wouldn't seem momentous.
The door to Oliver's room creaked as it opened, and Harry remembered to breathe once more. Again, there wasn't much in the way of furniture, but the bed was enormous. Unmade, too, but Harry couldn't be arsed about it when his own was in a similar state back at the Loft.