How quickly Draco prepared to make his exit made Harry’s heart skip a beat. In the passing month, Draco had not once gone to bed before Harry and Harry was suddenly struck with a devastating feeling of loss, far from done with the day.<br/>"Hey," he said as he, in a moment of impulsivity, reached out for Draco as he passed by him. Harry caught a hold of him by his hand. It was barely a grip, something timid about the touch. Harry realized he had had a mixed record of reaching out for Draco, and the way Draco had jumped away from him when he caught a hold of him that first evening was still vividly present in his consciousness.<br/>Harry stalled, Draco’s hand in his, as he allowed time for the touch to settle – and, more importantly, for his hazy mind to phrase the gratitude filling his chest.<br/>"Thank you for this." The exact extent of his gratitude was fuzzy even to Harry; this, warding the sunroom, but with that thought came a plethora of other things Draco had done for him that Harry felt grateful for. It left his lips parted, almost speaking them to existence.<br/>"I’ve had a lot of fun today."