"I did a really shit job at telling you how being around you felt," Harry says seriously, his fingers warm as they hold onto Draco’s hand. "I never told you how much I like spending time with you, how much I’ve wanted that for—well. For ages. And how, for that entire holiday, I was just really happy to pootle along and do whatever you wanted to do because what you want is always so interesting and deeply fulfilling, because I get to see the world through your eyes. Really. I wanted to do whatever you wanted to do because I trust you to make everything amazing."  Draco wants to scoff, to shoulder Harry off and roll his eyes in self-deprecation, but all he can do is stare. Sniff, and stare.  "I just—I’m trying to lay everything on the table," Harry whispers, looking down at their joined hands. "I’m shit at speeches. And—besides that, it’s you. You’re the person I find it hardest to talk to about my feelings because you’re the person whose opinion matters to me the most."