Warmth pools low in Harry’s belly, thinking about Draco with his trousers around his ankles in the middle of a clearing, sun lighting up his eyelashes and hair, head tilted back against the tree, but before he can ask any more, before he can reach out and touch him, Draco is padding out of the room, and he’s pulling on clean clothes from his wardrobe, and he’s telling Harry to go back to his own suite to do the same so they can go upstairs and start the day proper.