Harry could almost laugh, audible in the way his breathing changed when Draco responded like Harry had said something unrecognizable.<br/>“No, I mean it,” he said, some of the intensity of their embrace deflated into Harry’s smile.<br/>He straightened his posture, sitting back on his shins in order to slot himself between Draco’s thighs.<br/>“You work so hard; you’re so good at everything you do.”<br/>Steadying himself against Draco as he leaned forward, Harry’s hands each rested a few inches above Draco’s knees, the fabric of his robe bunching up between them. Adjusting his grip, Harry’s hands pushed beneath the fabric to push it up to increase the ease of movement, but the way his expression faltered was a testament to the fact that he hadn’t expected to find bare skin above the knee.<br/>Whatever train of thought Harry had been going on about immediately disappeared from his consciousness. Then he smiled, bright and boyish and<span style="font-style: italic">thrilled</span>.<br/>“Fuck, Draco,” he beamed, cheeks bright red, running his hands up Draco’s thighs to expose more bare skin as he leaned back in. “- and then<span style="font-style: italic">this</span>.”