Even with his eyes fluttering shut and the voice of the commentator filling the sunroom, Harry doubted there’d be any situation in life where he wouldn’t be acutely aware of Draco’s presence in a room. Tipping his head backwards towards the sound of Draco’s voice, Harry opened his eyes to the sight of Draco taking a seat next to him, a smile already pulling at his lips.<br/>“Hi, babe,” he greeted, the grin seeping into his voice. The pull Draco had on him was visible in the way his balance shifted, leaning closer until their shoulders met.<br/>In an instance, the presence of the mug in his hands felt clumsy, having much preferred to reach for Draco; the only available compromise, Harry’s right hand welcomed Draco’s proximity, curling around Draco’s thigh in lieu of an embrace.<br/>Harry’s gaze kept dipping from Draco’s eyes to his lips, barely managing to reestablish eye contact when speaking. “You’re back late.”