Draco grinned at the comment, juvenile as it was. It had already been clear from the way they were both acting that they wanted the other undressed, but somehow Draco still greatly appreciated the verbal confirmation, feeling a bit out of depth.
He managed the last of Harry’s buttons, pushing the shirt aside and running his hands over Harry’s shoulders. He needed to constantly touch and feel Harry to keep himself grounded, needing constant reminders that this was real and this was happening.
Impossible as it might seem, Draco really was going to shag Harry Potter.
As the shirt landed on the floor, Draco grabbed a hold on Harry’s undershirt, only to start giggling once he got a hold on the fabric. He knew that Harry ran cold so naturally he would wear a lot of layers to stay warm, but there was something ridiculously funny about the second undershirt to Draco that made him unable to stop giggling.
“I want you undressed, but that’s apparently a tall order,” he managed, still giggling as he looked up at Harry.

_________________

Harry let go of Draco’s shirt without resistance, allowing Draco to push the button up off of him. The way Draco trailed the line of his shoulders and arms sent shivers down Harry’s spine, the first real contact against bare skin, his undershirt just a short sleeve.
However odd it seemed, Draco had bore witness to Harry undressing a multitude of times and it was impossible that he hadn’t taken notice of how many layers Harry wore on a daily basis. But then again, Harry figured, it might be a different experience when Draco had to be the one to peel the layers back himself.
The laugh that escaped Draco was certainly different, doing a better job of getting under his skin than Draco’s plethora of tests had ever done.
"Don’t act surprised," Harry grinned, though the sound was more a hitched breath than a true laugh. Harry felt Draco’s laugh shimmer through his veins, one of the most magnificent sounds he had ever heard.
Wanting to deliver on anything Draco asked of him, Harry shifted his weight to his back leg, creating a greater distance between the two of them. He picked his glasses off his nose, unceremoniously tossing them to the armchair flanking the fireplace.
The chuckle became clearer in Harry’s voice as he gripped the back collar of his shirts, eyes meeting Draco’s with a shared joke. "This, we’ve done before."
With ease and without bashful reservations, Harry pulled both shirts off in one swift motion.

It felt like far too much for Harry to point out that it wasn’t the first time that he had undressed in front of Draco, even if the former times had been for completely different purposes. It wasn’t that Draco had forgotten that Harry tended to were a **** load of clothes, it was just that it felt so much more juvenile when he had to help remove them.
As Harry removed both undershirts, Draco noticed the circle that he had drawn on Harry’s chest, glad to see how it had held up, even if it wasn’t the thought that most occupied his mind. Instead, he carefully placed his hands on Harry’s shoulders again and this time ran them over his chest.
“Not like this,” Draco pointed out, taking note of the fact that Harry’s chest seemed softer than it had been the other times that Draco had seen him. He ha no idea whether or not he was actually right, but it seemed that Harry hadn’t been able to upkeep a strict training regime while at the manor, causing his muscled to be less defined. It made Draco soft to think that his stay here had made any difference at all, much more so a difference that was as noticeable as that.

_________________

Harry relaxed back onto the mattress and into Draco’s touch. It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling, the way a simple brush across his chest seemed to filter in an out of sensitivities, the Horcrux scar almost entirely devout of feeling. While it caused no discomfort, Harry felt hyper aware of the different reactions the scar invoked in people, all seeming to come down to their relation to the war. Harry had experienced anything from pity to reverence, both opposites equally uncomfortable.
The first time Harry had undressed in front of Draco, the other had seemed personally mortified but professionally interested; now, Draco’s expression barely wavered, the scar seeming to be the last thing on Draco’s mind.
It made Harry’s mouth go dry, finding that shared moment unexpectedly tender.
"No," Harry agreed softly, his hands finding Draco’s shirt collar to undo the first button. This was new, his heart skipping a beat as another button revealed that, in contrary to Harry, the shirt was the only layer Draco was wearing. "This is better."

Draco grinned at that, finding the phrasing to be heartbreakingly soft, but he also couldn’t help but wholeheartedly agree. This really was better than just getting Harry shirtless for whatever test he needed to run on that day.
Wanting to underline how he agreed, and potentially to distract Harry from what he was about to reveal, Draco stretched slightly to kiss Harry again.
It wasn’t that Draco didn’t want to be shirtless around Harry, he had figured that that was where they were headed anyway, but he also didn’t know how to prepare him for what he was about to see. It was likely that Harry had forgotten everything about the sectumsempra curse, or even would have thought that it would have healed just fine over the years.
However, Draco knew that his chest carried a start reminder of the incident and while it was inevitable that Harry was going to end up seeing it, Draco wanted to prolong this moment for as long as he could.

_________________

Harry met the kiss willingly, happy to push away the realization of just how intimately Draco already knew him. He leaned into the touch, bracing his weight against Draco, a few buttons away from pushing him onto his back, having grown desperate to shift the balance. Despite the inviting promise, Harry found himself overwhelmed with the affection and care Draco bestowed upon him, both in words and touch. It was dizzying, never quite realizing how much he had missed it until Draco offered it so easily.
When the final button became undone, Harry’s hands finally found skin, making his heart flip with anticipation. Placing that point of contact at Draco’s midriff, Harry’s hands trailed upward, intending to push the fabric off Draco’s shoulders; they never wandered that far, the irregular skin beneath Harry’s palms making him break the kiss in search for a visual explanation.
He stalled.
In juvenile optimism or blind faith in Madam Pomfrey, Harry hadn’t thought it would scar.
It had, and it was ghastly. Of course, none of them were deserving of that luck.
Draco’s scars were as raised and angry as Harry’s own, making his stomach turn with the first true realization of how deep the curse had cut. It unravelled the absolution Harry had allowed himself years ago, a stark reminder of every horrible atrocity Harry had committed through out the war, and ignorantly had allowed to sink back into oblivion every time others had praised his purpose.
Harry’s eyes found Draco’s, looking for damnation in his expression, needing to see if Draco hated him for it.
He didn’t know how long Harry’s eyes had lingered on Draco’s chest – not long, he hoped. The gratitude he felt in the indifference Draco had just expressed still held a firm grip around Harry’s heart, forcing his expression steady, though he felt his cheeks flush with regret.
Harry wanted to speak an apology but found that he couldn’t; there was simply no words that would suffice. Instead, Harry’s hands skipped the past inches of skin, wrapping them around Draco’s neck. In lieu of I’m sorry Harry kissed Draco gently but without reservations, willing that nightmare back into oblivion, if only just for another night.

To Harry’s credit, he didn’t pause for long upon seeing Draco’s skin, making Draco accept the kiss all the more eagerly because of it. He knew that Harry regretted what he had done, that much had been clear in his expression, but there was no reason for either of them to linger upon it.
Even in the years before the war properly broke out, things had been different for Draco and Harry compared to other teenagers, neither of them having been afforded the possibility to fully just live. While Draco admittedly had gotten more of a life than Harry had ever been afforded, they had both been given too much and too heavy responsibility too young.
In lieu of an answer to a question that Harry hadn’t asked, Draco helped get the shirt off him before burying his fingers in Harry’s hair, not wanting to feel sorry for himself for any reason whatsoever. It was many years in the past and they both knew exactly what had happened, there was absolutely nothing more to say about it, at least not in Draco’s opinion.
Instead, Draco carefully moved backwards, not wanting to discourage Harry’s ministrations, but also knowing that they couldn’t stay at the edge of the bed all night.

_________________

________

As Harry laid on his back, the room was fuzzy around him. The intricate crown moulding of the ceilings indistinguishable in the darkness, far outside of Harry’s field of focus; his glasses still laid abandoned across the room, and Harry would rather accept temporary blindness than to get up to retrieve them.
In his haze, Harry saw stars in the corner of his eye though he was tempted to believe them to be real, rather than a post-orgasmic mirage. The room felt electrically charged, magic heavy in the room; it had felt like Draco had drawn it out of him like when he took his signature, weeks ago.
Harry had thoroughly enjoyed himself.
His fringe stuck to his forehead, damp with exertion, as his breathing settled, air returning to his lungs. With it came his ability to maintain a coherent thought, a long list of impressions washing over him, too preoccupied with Draco to previously process them.
Turning to the only place he could think any answers might be, Harry tipped his head towards Draco. In contrary to the room, Draco was in perfect focus, making Harry’s heart jump with renewed interest, seemingly unable to grow tired of the other man.

As Draco lay on his back on the bed next to Harry, trying to catch his breath again, he still had a hard time wrapping his head around what exactly had just happened.
Feeling a set of eyes on him, Draco turned to look over at Harry who, as suspected, was looking at him. It made Draco smile softly, feeling somehow confirmed in his decision to throw caution to the wind and just do something for the hell of it for once.
It was also while looking at Harry that Draco realised that he still wasn’t wearing his glasses, something that only struck him as odd now that they were just laying around.
Despite having left his wand in the sun room, Draco knew that he was proficient enough in wandless magic to be able to get a pair of glasses to cross the room.
He muttered a soft accio and soon the glasses where in his hand. Not giving himself permission to think too much of the intimacy, Draco simple reached out and placed them on Harry’s face again, grinning softly at the juvenile nature of the action.
“There we go.”

_________________

Draco’s effortless, wandless Accio sent a shiver down Harry’s spine, skin overly sensitive still. The easy composure and control of Draco’s skills felt amplified by the fact that Harry felt in no state to attempt the same spell, drained in the absolute best way. However, it was the attentiveness of the gesture that made Harry’s stomach turn, infatuated.
When Draco shifted to place the frames on his face, Harry grinned, finding that he didn’t actually need his glasses to see Draco if only he remained close enough. That felt like too much to say out loud, even though it was a simple matter of practicality; Harry didn’t dare take it as a given that Draco would remain this close to him.
"Thank you," Harry chuckled, though it did little to properly convey how much it meant to him.
Pliantly, Harry pushed himself slightly off the pillow, allowing the temples of his glasses to settle over his ears without pinching against the pillow. Leaning his cheek against his forearm rather than the pillow, Harry shifted to his side, another several inches closer to Draco.
Draco truly was a work of art, cheeks flushed, and hair fanned out across his pillow. It felt more dauting to admit now, having seen so much of Draco and still feeling like it didn’t quite suffice.
Wanting to prolong the night, Harry’s free hand reached out for Draco, hand finding the crook of his neck, fingers lazily raking through his hair; it was a compliment Harry couldn’t quite articulate.
Another came easier, however.
"Wandless," Harry noted, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. In tandem, his hand settled properly at the nape of Draco’s neck, the compliment replaced by a gentle invitation; Harry was equally curious and desperate for the confirmation that he was still allowed to kiss him.

When Harry reached out and touched him again, Draco felt a shiver run through him, as if he was still too sensitive to be touched anywhere. However, he also didn’t want Harry to ever stop touching him for any reason whatsoever; a juvenile attempt to hold onto his affections for as long as possible.
Wanting to indicate that somehow to Harry, Draco scooted slightly closer as well, not keen on moving too much though, afraid that he was going to move Harry’s hands.
The compliment, which Draco was absolutely certain that it was, even if it was just a word and nothing else, made Draco grin. He was so used to having his wand in his hair that sometimes it was nice to be able to do minor spells without it in his hand. Still, there was something absolutely endearing about the way that Harry was looking at him for it, a look of pure adoration that Draco was having a hard time wrapping his head around.
“Wandless,” he confirmed with a softer smile, as he softly reached up to put a hand on Harry’s forearm, wanting to prolong his touch for as long as possible.

_________________

When Draco inched closer, Harry’s hand slipped further down the line of Draco’s spine, fingers resting between his shoulder blades. It made Harry’s smile widen, a relieved confirmation that Draco had yet to regret it.
Harry thought he had plenty of reasons to, surprised that Draco had even let him touch him in the first place.
He still felt too comfortably satiated to feel the full tug of regret and remorse, but he knew it would only be a matter of time before that feeling became all-ingulfing.
Harry had wanted to deliver on his promise and taking care of Draco had meant ignoring the scars Harry himself had put on him. Harry had kissed and touched Draco without consideration for the state of his skin, but in the palm of his hand, Harry still felt the phantom touch of raised scars.
"Do you want to talk about them?" Harry said softly, so vague he counted on Draco’s understanding to what he was referring. Not having had sex, but the fact that Harry had almost killed Draco.
Both their arms raised, it had significantly obscured the scars, but Harry knew they were there, forever.

Draco’s thumb was softly running along the side of Harry’s arm, liking wanting to relish on the intimacy of the embrace; unsure how long he was going to be allowed it.
The question shouldn’t come as a surprise to Draco, knowing that Harry had seen the scars and had been surprised by them. It was likely that he had thought they could be healed by magic, but the magic was dark and had cut so deep that Draco knew better than to think that anything could ever heal them. They were part of how he looked and there was nothing at all he could do about it. It was something that he had come to terms with years ago, and even if he had spent years detesting Harry for what he had done to him, he found that he had none of that fire in him anymore.
“No,” he stated, no doubt in his mind that he very much did not want to talk about them. He had done all the soul searching that he had needed and he was more than over it by now.
However, Draco was also aware that this was likely the first time that Harry had been faced with something so undeniably bad that he had done, so it was possible that it was Harry who needed to talk about it and was just looking for an in.
“Do you?” He asked, despite definitely not wanting to talk about it. After all, no amount of talking about it was going to make them go away, and Harry was lying there and looking so beautiful with the moon behind him that Draco could hardly bear it.

_________________

Draco’s answer should probably have offered Harry some relief, but it felt like little comfort. It didn’t ease any of the remorse Harry still felt, but then again, it wasn’t Draco’s responsibility to ease it.
Of course, he wanted to talk about it, but not with Draco, not really. Draco didn’t look at him with resentment, and it was clear to Harry that he had worked out that hurt on his own, at least sufficiently enough for him to brush a sweet nothing onto Harry’s skin. Harry was in no position to unearth that trauma for his own gain, as if inflicting more hurt would help ease his own.
Harry shook his head no, heart in his throat.
Instead, Harry pushed himself off the mattress, balancing his weight on his elbow. His hand returned to the nape of Draco’s neck, offering a point of stability as he leaned forward to kiss Draco, grateful beyond what he could express in words.

As Harry leaned in to kiss him, Draco felt more than relieved that he had dropped the subject of the scars, far more than he had thought that he would be. While Draco knew that he didn’t want to talk about it and felt certain that he was done being hurt about it, the idea of having to unravel the entire ordeal again had made his heart ache with something he couldn’t quite place.
Instead, Draco allowed his hand to move up along Harry’s arm as Harry moved his hand, feeling definitely safe and taken care of in a way that couldn’t quite be explained. Part of him desperately wanted Harry even closer to him, liking the level of intimacy that was suddenly afforded to him. At a loss for words, Draco simply returned the kiss with all that he had, wanting to indicate to Harry that he understood.
More than anything it all just felt like a dream and Draco was in no rush whatsoever to wake up from said dream. Instead, he was going to take in everything that he could, wanting to drag their evening out as far as he could possibly allow it.
His hand found Harry’s shoulder blade, fingers sprawled out in an attempt to encourage further caresses.

_________________

The flex of Draco’s fingers across Harry’s back sent a heat all the way the length of his spine. Despite the pleasant temperature of the room, Harry’s skin was quickly cooling the longer it was exposed; Draco’s returning touch made Harry’s skin tingle with warmth, the feeling much alike stepping into the sunroom earlier that morning.
Wanting to give Draco everything and more, Harry’s lips left Draco’s in favour for the soft skin beneath his jawline, placing a kiss there before finding his pulse point with another.
"What other spells do you know wandless?" he asked into the crook of Draco’s neck, a grin interrupting the trail of kisses he was pressing onto Draco’s skin. Right in that moment, it felt like a significantly more interesting subject to explore.
A wandless Accio was certainly among the most common wandless spells learned with its wide practicality; because Draco was Draco Harry was sure it wasn’t the only one he knew, far too brilliant a wizard for mediocracy.

The juxtaposition of what Harry was doing and the question he was asking made Draco chuckle, the only thing stopping him from full blown laughing being that Harry’s ministrations to his neck made his breath catch in his throat.
Somehow, it seemed perfectly in line with how Harry had always acted around him, and yet Draco had a hard time wrapping his head around talking about what kind of magic he could do wandless, while naked and with Harry kissing his neck. It meant that Draco had to search deep for the answer, especially because if he were to list every single spell he could do wandless, it was going to be a very long night.
“Most,” he started, the feeling of Harry’s grin against his bare skin sending shivers down his spine. He never wanted this to end.
“I like to have my hands free,” he started, just as his hands had started moving towards Harry’s spine and up his hair, not thinking too much of the implications.

_________________

It was hard to distinguish whether it was Draco’s hold of his hair or the breathy /most/ that made Harry’s heart flip. There really was something about Draco’s unwavering confidence that made heat pool in the pit of Harry’s stomach, knowing it was perfectly justified.
Harry straightened his posture far enough that he could once again look at Draco, the increased pull of his hair sending needles down his spine.
"Yeah?" he asked, not in incredulity but in awe. The answer had quite effectively distracted him, eyes darting between Draco’s in search for an exaggeration Harry knew wouldn’t be there; he was certain Draco was telling the truth, something that only made his smile widen.
There was a long, visible moment where Harry suppressed the urge to kiss Draco on the lips all over, something that would accomplishing little besides fueling a juvenile attraction to competent spellwork.
Instead, he hummed an acknowledgement below Draco’s Adam’s apple, shifting with the intent of a more extensive exploration of Draco’s chest.
"I only know a few, that’s impressive," he said with a smile before pressing another kiss to the divot of Draco’s neck.

There was something absolutely bizarre to Draco about being complimented for his spell work, something that he had never considered anything but a professional skill, while naked and being kissed like this. It caused a disconnect in Draco’s mind, unable to wrap his head around both happening at the same time. This also meant that he had a hard time really taking the compliments to heart, even if there was no doubt in his mind that Harry meant them sincerely.
“I’ve had a lot of time to spend,” Draco justified, unsure what exactly Harry expected to hear from him, but he knew that the entire scene had him at a complete loss. It just seemed too good to be true that Harry would still be this interested in him directly after sex and Draco tried not to read too much into the expression he saw on Harry’s face, even if he was fairly certain that it was painted with awe.
His hand kept playing with the soft hair in the nape of Harry’s neck, needing to do something to not go completely mad.

_________________

Draco’s response once again brought a smile to Harry’s lips. He knew there to be plenty of people who, given the same amount of time, would never accomplish what Draco had done, either due to lack of skill or motivation. Harry didn’t press the subject further, however, coming to realize that it might have been just as long since someone had offered him sincere praise.
The smile remained as Harry leaned back on his heels, straightening his posture for just a moment. Draco looked absolutely picturesque splayed on the bed beneath him, sharp angles but soft skin. For a moment Harry thought he was going to lose grasp of reality if he didn’t touch him, the alcohol still dull and present in his veins, making his head spin when he sat up.
With a touch to Draco’s hip in an encouragement, Harry slotted himself between Draco’s thighs. Though the increased friction made Harry shudder, he was too satiated for anything to stir. Harry had already known that, only shifting closer to place a kiss centre on Draco’s sternum, disregarding how close he was to pressing it onto a diagonal scar cutting through the bone.
"Would you show me sometime?" he asked, a boyish smile pulling at the corner of his mouth, eyes darting to Draco's. Through out the month Harry had seen very little of Draco’s wandless magic, but then again, Harry might not have been paying sufficiently attention, only ever seeing Draco cast complicated tests or diagnostics.