golden longings

XXXIV

***

Draco awoke the next morning well rested but with a dry throat. Which lead him to get up soon, after closing his eyes again failed to make him feel any better, to get some water from the bathroom.

He swung his feet over the edge of his mattress, stood up and headed towards the only door the room had besides the exit.
But when he tried the door, it was locked. Draco sighed quietly and went back to his bed.

He resorted to grabbing his flask from the top drawer of his bedside table and casting a quick aquamenti to fill it with water.
The liquid running down his throat was soothing. As soon as he took a sip, he felt like he was starting to truly wake up. Not in a physical sense, but in getting a grasp on the world he woke up in. Like he was arriving in the day to which he woke up.

He would meet Harry that day. In what Harry called a date.

Draco still had no idea whether that had been an expression or meant literally. He barley dared to hope for one or the other.
All he knew was that he was anxious to find out. So anxious that his heartbeat picked up speed only by thinking about it.

The room was empty as far as Draco could tell. Since the bathroom was occupied and a quick look at the time told him that it was beyond time to get ready, he began changing in the room.

Just as he was buttoming up his shirt, he heard the creaking sound of the bathroom door opening.
Four people shared their dorm. So the chance of the person he was nost anxious to meet stepping out was one third.
But, accompanied by some steam from a hot shower, Harry Potter stepped out of the bathroom.
Draco silently cursed his terrible luck.

Harry was shuffling a towel through his hair, another one sitting dangerously low on his waist.
Despite his awareness of how indecent it was, Draco was unable to tear his gaze away from the sight.

A few rays of morning sun shone in through the window and illuminated the droplets of water that slowly ran down Harry's skin.
Each drop that fell low enough was caught and absorbed by the towel. But endlessly more followed. And Draco struggled not to let his eyes wander with each one.

Once he spotted him, Harry abruptly stopped the motions of the towel on his hair.
"Oh - Hey. You're here."
He lowered the towel slightly, draping it around his neck. Even from a few meters distance, Draco could tell that no drying spell had been used. Neither on his hair, nor his body.

The view amazed Draco. Every time he got to see it. Which wasn't rare, since they shared a room. But his cheeks still heated up every time Potter walked out of the shower. Because every time he did so, he was at least shirtless.
"And you're dripping wet. Are we stating the obvious?"

With his brows furrowed in irritation, Draco turned around to throw his robe over his shirt, breaking their eye contact.
"Sorry. Not-"
Harry interrupted himself to throw the towel from his neck down onto his bed.
"That's not what I meant."

Draco took another sip from his flask, as his throat had suddenly dried out again. Only then did he dare to look back at Harry, who was still shirtless and apparently searching for a garment to change that in his trunk.
"You might expect me to be here. Since it is my room as well."
Draco placed his flask on top of his night stand to get his hands free.

He turned back to look for his tie, the last component missing from his uniform. And maybe to hide the blush he knew he was displaying. Once he found it, he headed over to the  bathroom, the door to which still stood wide open, to put it on. It seemed that since he last looked at him, Harry had still not found the shirt he was looking for.