Draco’s touch was light to begin with, the layers of clothes covering Harry’s chest muffling it to barely a brush, sending needles down Harry’s spine with the attention he put into grasping it. He turned his chest slightly into the touch, shifting his shoulders to be able to face Draco.<br/>It was no avail, Draco’s hand quick to disappear. Thoughtlessly, Harry mirrored the motion, drawing a circle against Draco’s thigh, either processing the information or the loss.<br/>Draco spoke with such restraint it drove Harry mad, but the flush high of Draco’s cheeks remained a boyish encouragement, a proof that Draco wasn’t as unaffected as his tone would allude.<br/>“How far do you think it’s moved?” Harry asked, the stupidity of the question only amplified in its repetition. Harry was aware of it, the corner of his mouth quirking upward.