Draco was trying to catch his breath, lying flat on his back, no longer touching Harry, but acutely aware of exactly where he was on the bed. He almost wanted to reach out and touch him again, a soft confirmation that he was still there, but he didn’t need to. It was like Harry had a magnetic pull on him, always knowing exactly where he was, especially after something like this.<br/>Draco’s head was still spinning, as he looked at the ceiling of the room, following the moulding with his eyes as he tried to get back to himself.<br/>A tinge of regret was creeping up on him, feeling so uncertain as to where he was with Harry and knowing that this wasn’t going to help. He couldn’t entirely regret it though, not knowing how well they fit together and how Harry always seemed to know what he wanted, even if he didn’t know himself. It was too intoxicating for Draco to ever be able to truly regret.