"I'm going to fetch some Sangria, do you need anything?"
The tousled black hair shakes a negative. Draco rubs Harry's leg as he exits. Real.
"Here, coffee," pre-coffee Harry fumbles a mug to Draco.
"Thanks," Draco murmurs back, clasping Harry's fingers briefly around the mug. Real.
The house is quiet and Draco begins to panic. In his ancient armchair, Harry is snoring softly over a Quidditch manual. Draco places light fingertips on his back to assuage his fear. Real.
"I love you Draco," Harry whispers in the darkened room. Draco reaches a pale hand to his face in reply. Real.