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Draco ran the feather slowly down the inner skin of Harry’s arm, from the exposed area at the top of his t-shirt, and down to his wrist. Musing, Draco stopped, sharp eyes picking up the twitch in Harry’s fingers.
“How does that feel?” he said gently, running the feather back up again, but now with a lighter touch.
Harry’s nose twitched and scrunched, moving the blindfold ineffectually. With his other hand, Draco helped adjust it so it lay more cleanly.
“Good,” was Harry’s reply, his voice hoarse. “A bit weird, though.”
Draco let out a light chuckle. “I see.” He changed the angle of the feather, letting just the tip explore across Harry’s skin. Harry was ticklish, Draco realised, as he lingered the feather at the crook of his elbow. Then, Draco was running the feather up Harry’s arm, over his shirt, and up towards the exposed skin of his neck.
Harry’s entire body trembled as the feather played at his throat, as it climbed his jaw and caressed his lips and cheeks. Harry’s fingers were starting to tense.
“You’re a good boy,” Draco said, infusing his voice with warmth.
A blush spread across Harry’s cheeks, and his fingers relaxed.
Draco repeated an imperfect mirror of his actions down Harry’s other arm, different enough that Harry would not be able to correctly anticipate where the touch would go next. All through it, they remained quiet, their breaths and Draco’s occasional footstep the loudest noise in the room.
Finally, Draco finished with a press of the feather into Harry’s hand, closing Harry’s fingers around it.
“Good,” Draco said. “I’m going to take off your blindfold now.”
Harry continued to breath deeply, though he turned a little towards the sound of Draco’s voice.
The blindfold was really a dark strip of cloth that Draco had draped over Harry’s eyes, thick and heavy enough that it would stay down, so long as Harry didn’t shift too much—and he hadn’t.
“You were really good, Harry,” Draco murmured. He lifted the cloth directly up and away.
Harry opened one eye, then another, then blushed when he noticed Draco’s proximity. “Hullo,” he said. And then his blush deepened with embarrassment.
“Hello to you. Do you want to get up?” He passed Harry his glasses.
Harry nibbled at his bottom lip. “Yeah. The couch? I’ll get some drinks.”
Draco nodded. He helped Harry off the padded bench and put the play things away while Harry went to their kitchen.
Draco had barely sat down on the couch, blanket in hand, when Harry sat down next to him, two mugs of hot chocolate and a plate of marshmallows floating down onto the table.
Draco’s lips curled up. “My, isn’t this cosy,” he said, even as he draped the blanket across their legs. But he was grateful when Harry passed him his mug, their fingers lingering. Draco took a sip, and held the mug with one hand, resting the other on Harry’s thigh. After a session like that, Draco needed the physical, direct touch to ground him. He knew that it helped Harry as well, to have coarse contact after light play.
Harry drew his wand at the marshmallows. Draco was amused at the intense frown on his face as he uttered, “Incendio.”
The smell of toasted marshmallows was intoxicating, and Harry’s grin was utterly lovely. Harry popped a marshmallow into his mouth, and pressed another one to Draco’s lips. Draco’s eyes crinkled as he accepted it, lightly nibbling Harry’s fingers.
“Draco!” Harry protested. It didn’t stop him bringing his legs up under the blanket and snuggling up against Draco though.
Draco turned on the wireless and a crackling fire sprung in hearth.
“My, isn’t this cosy,” Harry drawled, tilting his head back so that he looked up at Draco.
“Shush, you,” Draco muttered. But when Harry completely relaxed against him, Draco relaxed too, his heart feeling fuller than ever.