Fluff
There’s a tap on his thigh. When Draco looks up from his book, Harry is glancing down and sporting a small pout.
“You okay?” Draco asks softly, carding his fingers through Harry’s beautifully tousled hair. Harry looks up at him, points at his own temple and then at Draco’s lap.
“You want to lie on my lap?”
Harry smiles, a minute gesture that makes Draco’s heart swell and ache with affection.
“Come here,” he says, and helps Harry curl on his side with his cheek on Draco’s thigh, facing Draco. He plays with Harry’s hair and caresses his cheek, and Harry fists Draco’s jumper at his waist and closes his eyes, his smile widening. Draco Accios Harry’s favourite blanket, drapes it over him, and picks his book back up.
The last sunrays of the winter afternoon spill in through the curtains and warm their skin in patches.