Harry had probably failed to recognize how much of his self-worth was in the validation of others. No matter how civil and courteous his professional work with Draco had been – and how valuable it had been in its own right – it was the feeling of want, tangled into Draco’s hold of his hair, that made Harry’s heart sing. It was undoubtedly juvenile, rooted in a lifetime of wanting to do good for others, but the confirmation that Draco wanted him was more coherent than any trauma yet to be psychoanalyzed.<br/>Harry’s hands found Draco’s hips, thumbs pressing into the dip between hip and thigh, allowing for a subtle change in the angle of Draco’s hips beneath Harry’s, sending needles up his spine.<br/>His lips left Draco’s only to speak, and even then, only barely so.<br/>"Draco," Harry breathed, a question and a praise all wrapped into one.