Even when pressed for an answer, Harry couldn’t settle on any coherent thought. Wanting Draco had become such an unavoidable and ever-present truth that it had grown abstract, simply a pull at the pit of his stomach whenever Draco reached out for him.<br/>“I don’t know,” he instead returned with a huffed chuckle, a dismissal of any responsibility. Harry’s hand continued to draw horizontal lines across Draco’s abdomen, lazily moving the length of his waistband, eyes following the motion as he considered his words.<br/>“I just want to make you feel good.”<br/>When Harry looked back up at Draco, the sheer truth of the statement struck him. Rather than embarrass him, it pulled at the corner of his mouth, bright and unabashed, as his hand finally stalled. “So you tell me, birthday boy.”