Harry felt his heart stop far before Draco kissed him. The gentle touch to his cheek was almost too much to bear, too soft for what they were supposed to be, and still it turned Harry’s knees into jelly, drunk on wine and on Draco.<br/>Mercifully, the kiss was familiar, and without hesitation, Harry stretched into it.<br/>Bracing himself against Draco, Harry’s fingers brushed at his waist almost timidly, the garden offering no real possibility to ground themselves in anything but each other.