Draco's scent strolls into the room a good five seconds before he does, and Harry's head turns as if pulled by an invisible tether to watch him walk in the door. A swell of emotion rises in his chest like a wave breaking the shore and Harry knows in this instant that he is gone. Hopelessly gone.

Gone over the too-large charcoal grey t-shirt that matches the depth of color in Draco's eyes. Gone over the way said shirt gapes enticingly over the hollow of his collarbones. Gone over the way those jeans sling low on his hips and drag the floor at his heels. Gone over the sparkle in his eyes and the patch of color on his cheeks, and the way that even clean and damp around the edges, Draco looks bright and fresh, and Merlin's balls…shagged. Gone like he's been pulled into another dimension, another universe where Draco is the center, shining radiant and beautiful like the sun and Harry has no choice but to orbit his presence. To do nothing but draw life from his light.

The arms of the chair creak under the squeeze of his hands, and Harry forces himself to relax.

"Darling, you certainly look…refreshed this morning." Narcissa's smile is broad across her face as she takes Draco in with motherly scrutiny. "Sleep well?"

Draco's gaze passes over Harry, causing a small smile to tug at his lips. "I did. Had a bit of a lie-in and a long, hot shower."

Harry's cock jumps in his trousers.

"It's done wonders for your complexion, my love. You look almost new."

This time Draco's eyes are for Harry alone. "I feel almost new."

Narcissa pushes her chair back and rises to her feet, slow and graceful as always. "Well," she says on a sigh, "since we're all feeling so wonderful, I thought we might celebrate."

"Celebrate?" Draco's voice sounds a touch wary.

"Yes," she continues. "I thought we might have a small dinner party tomorrow evening. Just close friends." Her eyes sharpen on Draco. "Pansy's in from America."

Harry's breath catches at the genuine smile on Draco's face.

"She owled me this morning. I thought I might invite Neville, and Harry could extend an invitation to Ronald Weasley and his wife." She turns to Harry. "If that's acceptable to you, that is."

Surprisingly, it's more than acceptable. "I think that's a fabulous idea, Cissa."

Her face brightens considerably, and it warms corners of Harry's heart to see it. "I'll send those owls out, if you'll get in touch with your friends?" she asks.

Harry nods in assent. "I'll do it after breakfast. What time?"

"Seven sound good to you, sweetheart?" she asks Draco.

"Seven is perfect, Mother. I think Cook will be pleased to cater an affair after so long." Draco replies.

She inclines her head in response. "I'll take care of everything, then." Narcissa spares a quick peck for both of them and glides out of the dining room on a swish.

"Well," Draco huffs out slowly as Blinky appears with his breakfast, "a dinner party. She must be feeling good. There haven't been people here in ages." He takes a delicate bite of bacon and Harry is mesmerized by the action. Draco chews carefully and furrows his brows in thought. Swallowing, he says, "At least not since I left for Switzerland."

"It will keep her occupied," Harry concedes.

Draco snorts. "At least until Longbottom gets here."

Harry raises an eyebrow and smiles back at him. "Don't tell me you're planning on voicing an objection?"

Draco meets his gaze and nibbles on his toast. "If I was, I would have every right to do so. She is my mother. Her welfare is my concern."

Harry doesn't say anything, but keeps his smile in place. It's only a second or two before Draco sighs and shakes his head.

"No, I don't plan on voicing an objection." His tone is soft and resigned. "Even if I think she's far too old and far too good for him, I can admit that his presence here has changed her state of mind for the better. If he makes her happy, all I can really do is be grateful." Draco glares at Harry's knowing grin and points a long, elegant finger at him. "However, should he make her unhappy, I will be the first to queue and hex his sorry arse six ways from Sunday."

Harry chuckles. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

"I can be civil," Draco sniffs. "I can be polite and accommodating. Hell, I can even go so far as to be," he shudders delicately, "friendly."

"You've already been friendly," Harry points out.

"Yes, but that was before there was something—" he waves a hand in the air, "I can't even fathom what it should be called, but something between them."

"Friendship? Companionship?" Harry folds his hands in his lap. "A mutual physical attraction?"

Draco rolls his eyes. "Ugh, please. Do we have to talk about this? I would feel much better about the whole thing if we didn't have to actually discuss it."

"Fine, fine," Harry laughs. "But you know if it goes any further, at some point, there will be much discussing." He shoots Draco a knowing look. "In detail."

"And now you've put me off my breakfast, you git." Draco pushes his plate back and sighs again. "Are you determined to disturb me today?"

Harry's smile goes from playful to heated in a second. "I thought I already did that."

The change in Draco is instantaneous, and it burns through Harry with satisfaction.

Draco's skin pinks up from his neck to ears and his lashes flutter as his eyes drop to the table. He picks at his napkin and gives Harry a side-long glance.

"You did."

"And how do you feel now?"

His brow crinkles and his mouth opens to speak, but it takes him a second to find his words. "Better. I had a moment of self-reflection which made things difficult."

"Oh?" Harry cuts in. "Are you alright?"

Draco rolls his bottom lip between his teeth, and it is fucking delectable.

"Yes," he replies. "I worked through it. It's a line of thought I'm slowly learning to leave behind."

The fingers on his left hand curl and uncurl, and Harry knows exactly why. The Mark is a lot to make peace with, even if he professes he has. Harry still has nightmares about some of things he's done in the name of war; he can only imagine how Draco must be struggling to reconcile himself as well.

He gets up out of his chair and moves to stand behind Draco.

"Good," Harry says. "You look well, anyway." He bends down to Draco's ear and whispers, "You look fucked. I like that."

Draco's head snaps up and a tiny gasp escapes him. "I—I did as you asked."

"I know. I can tell. That pleases me."

The bit of praise is like a touch because Draco shifts to sit taller in his chair, and the deep, satisfactory breath he takes mirrors the sudden gleam in his eyes. He's proud of himself.

He should be.

"Thank you, Harry."

Harry leans further down and presses a soft kiss to Draco's forehead. When he pulls back, Draco's eyes are wide and glassy. He brushes the back of his hand over Draco's cheek. "No, Draco, thank you. And because you've been so good, I think you've earned some kissing."

Draco's face tilts like he's been jerked backward.

"Not yet, darling," Harry murmurs over his lips. "Tomorrow night, after the dinner party, when everyone's gone home, I'm going to take you to my room and kiss every inch of you. By the time I'm done, your taste will be branded on my tongue."

Draco's strangled whimper is his only response.

Harry's grin turns playful again and he gives Draco a cheeky grin. "Anticipation makes the cock grow harder."

Draco's eyes widen for a second before he barks out a short hoot of laughter. "Oh, Merlin, that was awful. Just—oh, that was truly terrible."

Harry ducks his head and laughs alongside him.

"First you make me wait, and then you subject me to terrible aphorisms?" Draco clucks. "I cannot abide such treatment."

"Yes, you're so maligned." Harry rolls his eyes and straightens. "I like this. That we can laugh together. Talk together."

"Make terrible puns together?" Draco drawls.

"Exactly," Harry nods. "There's more to us than an intense physical draw. There are light moments. Fun moments. Even when the physical is burning in the background." He steps closer and reaches for Draco's hand. "It's the whole package, Draco. This is the building of a relationship. Not just sex. I want you to know that." His thumb strokes over Draco's skin, soaking in the feel. "I want to show you. I want you to believe it."

"I do believe it."

Draco's eyes are like pools of molten silver. He is relaxed, unguarded, and completely at ease. He's telling the truth. It takes Harry's breath away.

As Draco leaves to go about his day, Harry smiles to himself.

It may be a terrible cliché, but goddamn if he's not hard in jeans anticipating what it's going to be like when he finally gets his lips on Draco Malfoy the way he wants to.