Harry all but laughed, the sound almost punched out of him with the sincerity with which Draco spoke. Draco was a teenager beneath him, but not the one Harry had known; it was new and fresh, and Harry wanted to egg Draco on, wanted to hear every sweet nothing Draco, bright and juvenile, had to say.<br/>"I don’t want you to," Harry concurred with a grin. In fact, he had high expectations that he’d soon enough get to properly be held by Draco, something that made the loss of Draco’s hand much more bearable.<br/>As Draco’s hands dipped to the shirt waist, Harry was free to straighten his posture. Despite how a shudder went through his midriff every time Draco’s knuckles brushed against him, Harry refused to interfere, the building anticipation alone making his skin buzz.<br/>Instead, Harry raked both hands through Draco’s hair, for the first time in a position where he could run his fingers through it from root to ends. Having combed through it, Harry’s arms both remained around Draco’s shoulders, a lazy embrace allowing for Draco to continue undoing the remaining buttons.<br/>Harry tugged at the fabric of Draco’s shirt, pulling it up his lower back. With it, the corner of Harry’s mouth quirked.<br/>"But I want you undressed."