And he’d thought about Harry’s big toothy grin as he wrapped his arms around Edward and ruffled his bright hair. He’d thought about the way Harry’s gaze had slid across the room, as if in slow motion, to deliberately find Draco’s. He’d thought about Harry’s cheeks, flushed copper-pink from a friendly game of Quidditch out in the back garden that Draco had sat out on. He’d thought about the turquoise icing smeared on the collar of Harry’s t-shirt after he insinuated a bloody food fight, because that is the kind of man Harry is these days: careless, carefree, out of control, and adored by all.