Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of its contents, and I'm not making any money off this.
A/N: This isn't properly British.
When Draco finally sets dinner on the table, he's glad to see Neville's face; they've been yelling from the kitchen to the living room all day. Neville's sorting through papers, and Draco's making dinner. There is no reason to yell, really. Draco knows what Neville likes to eat, and he doesn't really care what Neville's doing. But he keeps the conversation going anyway, mostly just because he likes the sound of Neville's voice.
When he takes a seat across from Neville, Draco startles for a moment, head tilting. His hand freezes on his plate in the center of the table, distracted. "Since when do you wear glasses?"
"I don't," Neville answers, without looking up. "They're just for reading—the fine print on these contracts is ridiculously tiny."
Draco stares for a few mores seconds, until Neville glances up at him, peering over the thin black frames. "What?" Neville asks.
"Nothing," Draco says immediately. He goes back to setting the table as nonchalantly as possible, putting a plate in front of each of them and serving himself a healthy portion of soufflé. Neville goes back to reading, and Draco doesn't serve him. Draco picks up his own fork but doesn't get it all the way up to his mouth. It clatters to the plate a second later, and he says briskly, "You look hot."
Neville's cheeks flush slightly below the reflective lenses. "What?"
"You look hot," Draco repeats. "In glasses. I've never seen you in them before."
"Oh, well... I don't wear them much..." Looking a little confused, he puts the papers down and brushes them to the side, moving to take a scoop of soufflé. "Thanks for dinner." Draco nods, even though he's always the one to make dinner—Neville's unsurprisingly disastrous in the kitchen.
Neville reaches to pull the glasses off his face, and Draco quickly drawls, "Don't."
"Don't what?"
"Take them off."
"I don't need them for eating," Neville says, with the hint of a laugh. Draco scowls.
"Not for eating. Just... leave them on for after."
"After?" Neville raises an eyebrow. "What am I going to do with them after?"
Draco rolls his eyes as though it's the most obvious thing in the world and answers quite plainly, "You're going to fuck me right over this table."
Neville raises his eyebrows, grinning broadly. Shrugging, he pushes the glasses right back up his nose before casually replying, "I was going to do that anyway."