Draco, rattled about in his seat as the bus cruises along the port and circles up into the town, thinks about what he might say or do if and when he finally finds Harry. Will he dance with him? Hug him? Kiss him? Play one more round of their game? Will Harry whisper a ridiculous dare into Draco’s ear, his breath hot, his tone playful? Will Draco tell him how awful Julian was, will he admit to Harry being right about him, and in his smugness, will Harry say to Draco: I could help you forget all that. Come on, fuck this, let’s go back to my suite.