Harry knew that getting Draco to sit down was more than half the work, finding it so easy to wrap an arm around his shoulders, urging him to linger in the proximity.<br/>“Better,” he said, but the way his gaze skimmed across Draco’s expression added a<span style="font-style: italic">now</span>to the statement, his voice more of a boyish tease than an honest reply.<br/>Today had been the first time Harry had spent a day alone at Malfoy Manor, something that had threatened to surface a trauma that had been successfully kept in check for the past half a year. It had, however, proved difficult to attach the horrors of the grand mantle room to Draco’s childhood bedroom, peppered with decorations that were undoubtedly close to twenty years old and that spoke of a Draco Harry hadn’t ever gotten a chance to know.<br/>It made it that more thrilling getting to be around Draco now, not seemingly able to exhaust his company.<br/>Brushing his hand up the nape of Draco’s neck, his hair pulled back into a bun, Harry was already thinking of undoing it.<br/>“How was it?”