Harry grinned into the kiss, the feel and weight of Draco’s body against him so familiar. It was all encompassing, a multiplier to the pull gravity had on him; Harry doubted he would ever feel as grounded as he did beneath Draco.<br/>Running his hands from Draco’s hips to his ribs, Harry’s fingers pushed beneath the fabric of his shirt until it bunched. It was a futile effort, aimless in the way he never reached for the line of buttons; it was simply a chase for skin, so compelled to strip Draco not only of his clothes but of the part of Draco that had already been perceived by others today.<br/>A natural continuation of that exact same thought, Harry reached briefly for Draco’s jaw, a tangle of arms, with the sole purpose of letting his hands slip to the nape of his neck.<br/>Having to break the kiss, Harry brushed a ghosting of another across Draco’s cheek, a chuckle in his breath as he looked across Draco’s shoulder.<br/>“Let me.”<br/>Hands half in his sight, Harry picked at the ribbon tying Draco’s hair back, a treat of a task Harry would not soon grow tired of.