#potion lab

Draco stops mixing the potion and holds himself very still, his body tightly coiled. When he turns he’s staring at Harry with a breathless focus.

So Draco remembers as well.

Remembers the way they’d danced around each other in potions class as if they were afraid to touch, afraid to speak to each other. Remembers Harry sneaking down to the potions lab to meet him late at night, the excuse of their assignment always at the tip of his tongue. Always sneaking, always careful, Draco’s pale hands covering Harry’s mouth to muffle his sighs as he pressed him back against the countertops and let him unravel.

Harry remembers all of it. Even now, sometimes he finds his mind back there in the potions lab, at Hogwarts, thinking about what it had been like for someone to touch him like he meant something, like he was made of glass. He can’t quite count the number of times he’s come with Draco’s name on his tongue.