It felt like time had slowed down the moment Draco's hand was on the buttons of his shirt. Suddenly finding themselves at a crossroads, Harry was suddenly faced with the realization that he had to decide whether or not this was something they should to be doing.<br/>Even trying to recollect what they had talked about was hard; Harry couldn't tell whether or not Draco's touches had muddled his memories, or if Draco really hadn't said anything of concrete value. Harry had no sense of whether this, in Draco's perception, was a first or a last. It was, perhaps, the dizzying possibility that this was the very last time that Draco wanted to be with him that finally served as the deciding factor.<br/>As a little sound escaped Harry, reality seemed to catch up to him. Willing any form of rational thinking out of his consciousness, Harry's hands left the small of Draco's back, training the waistband of Draco's pants before settling by the closure, egging Draco on as Harry himself mirrored Draco's movements, boldly undoing the button.