Work Text:
Draco loves sleeves that are just a bit too long. He loves how they warm his fingers. But mostly, he loves them when they’re Harry’s.
Draco hugs his knees and lays his chin on them, revelling in the blue knit softness of the jumper on his skin and closing his eyes. It was as if Harry’s scent was woven into the wool—cinnamon, pine, and kind warmth. If Draco could save Harry’s scent in it permanently, he would never be inclined to return the jumper to him.
As Draco sits there, inhaling his boyfriend's scent in an oversized jumper, he wonders about the exact moment when he became such a sap for Harry Potter and his too-long sleeves.