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Potter stood at the edge of the lake wearing those damned denim trousers of his. Completely unacceptable swimming attire, of course.
Draco didn’t understand the appeal. Yes, Potter did favor muggle-wear over traditional, respectable wizard’s robes, but he used to don unsightly, faded clothing that practically fell off him. Draco could only assume he wore them for comfort’s sake but… well, what Potter wore now was more akin to tights than trousers. Indeed, when Potter bent over to untie his shoes, Draco could see the flex of his thigh muscles and the firm, full outline of his—
Draco swallowed thickly.
“What?” Potter snapped Draco out of his haze.
Draco scowled. “Your trousers are horrid.”
Potter laughed and shook his head. He took a step, flicked open the button of his fly and leaned in close enough for Draco to smell his aftershave. “Guess I should take them off then, shouldn’t I?”