分卷阅读22（2 / 2）

“Yeah. We would have.”

“We might not have made it through first year. You were an insufferable git back then.”

“I…” Draco starts, and then pauses. He huffs. “Am I not anymore?”

And Harry hears the hidden question and smiles at him. “Less.”

Draco’s cheeks are pink. He stands up, takes his robes from the back of his chair, and unfolds it. “Try on my clothes.”

It’s a command, not a request, and Harry stands up eagerly. If he’s being honest with himself, he just likes the thought of them trying on each other’s clothes. He shrugs off his own robes, and puts on the offered one slowly.

It smells like Draco. Like hand cream and peppermint.

He swallows thickly, and looks up to comment that they’re a bit tight, but Draco is staring at him, stunned and speechless.

Harry feels his own face heating up.

“It looks…nice on you.”

“Be careful, Malfoy. I might just consider that a compliment.”

He’s flirting, he knows, but Draco seems to realize what he had just said and his cheeks go red and Harry can’t resist.

He grabs his own robes from the bed, crosses the room, pulls at Draco’s shoulder to turn him around, and can’t help the big smile that slides its way to his lips when Draco simply lets him.

“Try mine.”

Draco makes a face. “I absolutely can’t imagine myself in Gryffindor,” he says, but he’s raising his arms, letting Harry slip the sleeves onto them.

“Me neither.”

“I can’t imagine you in Slytherin, either.”

“Really? I’m pretty cunning.” And he’s turning Draco around again, completely aware that Draco can put the robes on his own, but he’s letting him, and so Harry takes what he’s being given.

“Cunning is the last word I’ll think to describe you with.”