Draco is watching him, cataloguing his responses and drawing out new ones with every touch, every gaze, every word. Harry feels exposed; kneeling down in front of her, nearly naked, while Draco is still fully dressed, but it's  good  , he thinks.  Easy. Easy to let her see him like this, easy to give up control. It makes his head feel quiet, somehow, despite the tension. Harry looks down, where the outline of her hardness is visible under her dress, curved upwards on her belly. He places his hand gently on Draco's ankle, and she seems to effortlessly understand the question that it is. 