As Draco leaned back Harry’s hand on the small of his back helped steady his weight. The feeling of Draco’s body heavy against Harry’s always made his heart flip, such a small but significant sign of trust that Harry could never tire of.<br/>Breaking the kiss, Harry’s lips instead found the line of Draco’s jaw.<br/>“Coote,” he muddled, his voice catching in his throat. He spoke the name as a plea, unable to articulate any thought more coherently, before his lips trailed another kiss down Draco’s neck.<br/>Only seconds after, Harry heard the soft clatter of the disappearing cutlery and china, making him grin boyishly against Draco’s skin, thrilled.<br/>Turning his head, Harry smiled into the soft skin beneath Draco’s jaw, barely constituting a kiss. His hand finally left the small of Draco’s back in favour of his hip, easing him onto his back blindly, trusting the dinner to have been cleared.