Harry likes the way things stay the same for a while, it hurts, it pains, and he doesn't smile for the while. Draco likes the way things change, he likes abrupt, he likes the blast of colors and the sudden firm voice that commands his wand and suddenly sparks blow, that's all there is to it. Harry frowns at the way Draco speaks he always speaks like he's trying to hide something, impress someone, try to make sure he knows better. But the thing is, Harry knows he's the one that knows better, he's the one that catches Draco smile when he's supposed to smirk, he knows that the songs Draco sings in the shower are just hums, they're not real words, because real words come in their kisses, and sometimes there's not enough left in his vocal cords.

Ron and Hermione disapprove, but Hermione doesn't complain. She tries to grin as often as she can for them, and then punches Ron beside her to do the same. Red hair, flashing bright goes along with the forced politeness as they drink tea outside in the patio tables and the thick white chairs. London's flat, the sky captivated by the black of night and the picture like a hard photograph. Harry remembers their best summer, he remembers Hermione sitting stiff with her white dress crumbling and her straw ripping through with the ice pumpkin juice staining her front, glittering teeth. Remembers the way Ron sniffed at everything Draco said to him, even the cordial hello. But what Harry remembers most is Draco and his silver bowtie, the way his hair was smoothed back and everything about him looked ridiculous, he was wearing a suit in the middle of summer to meet his friends, to tell them not just with his eyes but his clothes that he was better, in every way possible. Harry didn't let anyone believe it and nobody let themselves, either. He remembers the way the ice felt when he put it down Draco's back, Hermione shrieked when Draco shrieked, and Ron laughed so much it was the first time his ears grew red without the angry eyes, and Harry smiled when Draco glared. Even though it was Draco that felt the cold water smashed on the skin of his back, Harry felt just what Draco felt. That was the way it went.