The instructor starts passing around bottles of water. Draco sinks onto his mat in Cobbler’s Pose, holding his feet together, squeezing his toes a little too hard as Harry opens his bottle with a crack of the seal and drinks deeply from it, his Adam’s apple working up and down the column of his bare throat. He looks at Draco and smacks his lips; he’s glassesless, his face bare and open and sweet.