By now, Harry had undone Draco’s hair often enough to know it was mostly kept back by an old Wizarding trick; it barely took pulling at the ribbon for the spell to give way, and Draco’s hair fell in a single ringlet down his spine.<br/>Quite unceremoniously, Harry tossed the ribbon aside, aiming for the nightstand but failing to notice whether or not it had simply disappeared off the edge of the mattress. Far more interested in Draco himself, Harry ran both hands through Draco’s hair, fingers pressing against Draco’s scalp to rub at an itch Draco hadn’t expressed.<br/>Harry’s hands settled at the nape of Draco’s neck, a steady anchor to keep him properly in his sight for a moment. It was almost inevitable, how Harry’s smile widened to a grin.<br/>Draco was a sight to behold, lucid in the darkness. The way his hair relaxed left a fine halo around his face, backlit from the sparse light filtering through the window, and Harry had never seen anything like it - not before he had gotten to experience Draco like this.<br/>“Christ, you’re beautiful.” It escaped Harry thoughtlessly, almost a prayer.