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    Summary

    Draco was doing that thing with his hands again. The thing Harry had noticed first in 8th year and then hadn't stopped being able to notice in the past five years since.

    It's what had drawn him to Draco in the first place, like a moth to flame (pun very much intended). There was something completely mesmerizing about watching him snap his fingers and then cradle the blue flames in his palm absentmindedly while he talked, or read a book, or performed any number of mindless tasks. It was sexy as fuck.

    "You're staring again," Draco murmured, not raising his eyes from his book as the fire danced across his knuckles.

    Harry hummed, "You're doing the fire again."

    "You're as obsessed with fire as I am," he said, mouth curling at the corner.

    "Mostly obsessed with you," Harry replied and Draco laughed and finally looked up for his book.

    Series
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