A wave of cold air washed over Harry the moment Draco leaned away, marking a dreadful change of tone. It surprised Harry enough to open his eyes, needing to match Draco’s words to an expression. Harry’s pupils were blown and cheeks red with a flush, and he barely seemed coherently aware of what he had said.<br/>The laugh escaped Harry as soon as he processed Draco’s worries, too loud and too honest for the intimacy of their situation.<br/>“I’m not trying to court you, Draco,” he assured, his voice still airy with a chuckle. Harry was, however, once again struck by the truth of the statement. Towering above him, just out of reach with a flush on the peaks of his face, Draco was the most beautiful thing Harry had ever seen; it made it all that much more unbearable.<br/>Having straightened his posture, Draco had shifted his weight back against Harry’s hips, too much pressure to what little friction Draco provided.<br/>Juvenile in its impatience, Harry bucked his hips up against Draco’s, the brush of skin sending needles up his spine.<br/>“I just need you to move, please.”