He was looking up to the ceiling, and Harry followed his gaze, to find a sprig of mistletoe had been slowly unfurling above their heads as they spoke, and its leaves had finally spread out a foot or so above Draco’s head, "This fucking room, I swear," Harry grumbled, preparing to step back and out from under the plant, but Draco’s hands, which had never left his biceps, were suddenly tightening their grip to stop him escaping. He looked at Draco in confusion and saw a surprisingly intense expression on his face. He licked his lips, and looked as if he had something to say. He appeared to think twice about it, finally shrugging and saying: