Work Text:
Ten minutes have passed since Harry woke to find himself in Draco’s bed, finally, a year of flirting over the till in Harry’s bookshop culminating in last night’s fantastic romp. When he hears Draco start to snuffle awake, Harry rises to meet the muted light of the bedroom’s floor-to-ceiling windows. It had been dark when Draco side-alonged him to his flat the night before, and Harry itches to greet the day, feeling rejuvenated, alive.
Harry tugs open the curtains and finds himself looking peacefully out over the city. He basks in the morning sunlight for a few moments, but just as Draco’s arms come circling around his middle, something catches his eye.
“Hang on, is that... ?” he says, pointing.
“Mm, Westminster, I do work at the Ministry, Potter.”
“But you visit my shop every morning,” Harry says, confused. “In Camden.”
Draco’s head tucks into his neck. “So I don’t take the most direct route.”
Harry snorts, but his grin stretches, and the sun flashes blinding on Draco’s hair, warm against his throat. He surrenders, as pure, golden joy pulses smooth within his chest to their quiet breaths.