When Draco’s hands dipped to his abdomen, it made Harry’s stomach flip, muscles contracting with a shudder. It was a transparent display of desire, overwhelmed in the best possible way.<br/>The narrow space between them was greatly dictated by Harry’s hands in Draco’s hair, so Harry was quick to drop them, not wanting to discourage Draco’s hands from roaming.<br/>As his hands left the nape of Draco’s neck, they did so leaving a thoughtless, little sticking charm, neither said nor conjured with a movement of his wrist. Draco’s hair simply remained in the same messy hold Harry had had of it, spelled in place, as Harry’s hands instead found a greater sense of purpose on Draco’s hips, a desperate invitation for him to stay there.