Over the course of the past hour, it had time and time again struck Harry how utterly stupid this was, though it had at no point made his excitement waver. It was stupid and juvenile in the best way imaginable; it was playing dress-up in a way Harry hadn’t ever done as a child.<br/>Standing a yard from the open door to the sunroom, it translated to a rare sense of ease, Harry’s posture relaxed and well-humoured despite the fact that, for the first time in months, he was dressed in a muggle trousers and suit jacket that he had bargained Kreacher another heirloom for; just as he would have been attending any other birthday. It made no difference that it was only the two of them tonight - as it was every other night.<br/>His attention had been on the dinner Coote had arranged for them, the Manor house elf much more amicable and collaborative than Harry’s own, when the scuff of shoes caught Harry’s attention, quick to draw his eyes down the hallway.<br/>Harry beamed at the sight that met him, the pressure in his chest threatening to spill over him as a laugh, surprised but thrilled beyond words that Draco had, in fact, played along with his antics. Dressed in formal blues, Draco was indeed dressed<span style="font-style: italic">pretty</span>- enough for Harry’s heart to flip at the sight, so wonderfully different to any other iteration of him Harry had yet to witness.<br/>“Draco,” he greeted, a smile wide on his lips as he took a thoughtless step towards Draco, an interrupted urge to meet him halfway.<br/>Harry didn’t attempt to hide the way his gaze dipped, intrigued, but his eyes were on Draco’s when he spoke, a dumb grin on his lips. “Brilliant.”