Seeing Draco settle into consciousness without any sense of urgency, Harry felt his shoulders ease up, releasing a tension he hadn’t been aware of. It was the thrill of getting to keep Draco in bed - perhaps not forever, but certainly for longer than he ever had. Harry, too, relaxed back into the pillows, shifting slightly as he got comfortable.<br/>His hand fell from Draco’s temple, instead settling at his waist, a lazy prolongation of the embrace as they inched apart.<br/>“How’s it feel?” he asked with a smile, and though it was intended as a tease, there was an juvenile earnestness about the question that ultimately stemmed from not knowing.<br/>At some point, Harry’s eyes had dipped to his hand, thoughtlessly picking at the hem of Draco’s shirt. Even though Harry’s own birthday was only weeks away, he couldn’t picture his thirties, not even as an abstract concept. When he looked back up at Draco, it seemed to strike him that he asked because he genuinely wanted to know.<br/>Unprepared to face the weight of that realization, his smile went lopsided, finding it easier to joke around. “Would you recommend it?”