Completely caught off guard, Harry barely registered what had led to Draco's fingers raking through his hair. In that moment, the pressure against his scalp threatened to make his knees buckle, literally feeling his hairs stand as Draco ruffled up his hair. Harry, frankly, didn't need a justification for the caress.<br/>Mouth barely falling open, Harry was at a loss for words. Draco wasn't looking at him, attention directed a few inches above Harry's line of sight, and yet Harry couldn't keep his eyes off of him. Either the wine or the cold had flushed the very peak of his cheekbones and Harry could barely stand it.<br/>"Is that what we're telling people?" he attempted, voice breaking at the attempt to regain his composure. His words were an ill-placed joke, knowing this to be a statement that was utterly off the table; nothing more than a discrete nuance as they re-entered the stage.<br/>The smile came delayed, sheepish but hardly able to concentrate on a productive line of thought with Draco's hands still in his hair.<br/>"Are you gunna let me ruffle up<span style="font-style: italic">your</span>hair?" What was intended as a challenge sounded breathless despite the grin, Draco remaining too close for too long for Harry to be witty. "It's supposed to look like we've snogged<span style="font-style: italic">each other</span>, isn't it?"