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Harry woke up to fingers running through his hair. Manicured nails gently scratched his scalp sending pleasure rippling through him. It was lovely. And so astonishingly familiar now.
Prying his eyes open, Harry shifted to look at his partner, who- not having noticed that Harry was awake- continued to play with his curls whilst flicking through a book.
Draco always looked gorgeous in the mornings- his platinum hair all out of place, his scars not glamoured away.
Harry got to see Draco as he was. Smart, and flawed, and beautiful, and his.
Harry's favourite of Draco's expressions appeared: the furrowed eyebrows with creases between them. Sometimes it came with rage, sometimes with concentration, sometimes when Draco got a bit too 'Malfoy'. But Harry loved it all the same, because after the expression always came the softening of Draco's gaze, like mercury. And it was always so intimate, vulnerable and loving.
"I love you."
Draco's expression remained still and unreactive. Perhaps he didn't... love Harry back? It had been a few months, but it felt right. Not too soon, if anything, he said it too late.
The creases between Draco's brows vanished as he turned to Harry, his eyes sparkling with... something.
"Well Potter, that was long overdue."
"What?" Harry refused to let his jaw fall open, the way Draco often teased him for ('you'll catch flies if you don't stop that, darling').
But as it always did, Draco's metallic stare melted into utter affection. The book was set aside, and the men lay face to face.
"You've been telling me in your sleep, you know.”
Telling Draco what? Shit, this was not going to plan.
"I've been telling you..?"
Draco smiled gently at him, pressing a light kiss to the corner of Harry's mouth.
"I love you too, you idiot."