Potter doesn't leave. He slides off the mattress, and instead settles down beside his bed on the floor. He adjusts on his legs, his chin cushioned on his arm, and then begins to talk. His voice is quiet and rough with lingering slumber, the sound of soft kisses, of wild dancing and unbridled laughter filling his head.
When Draco wakes up, once again, somewhere in the dark of the night and under the dim starlights of the constellations spell that he doesn't remember casting for a second time, there is nobody at the floor of his bedside.
Potter doesn't leave. He slides off the mattress, and instead settles down beside his bed on the floor. He adjusts on his legs, his chin cushioned on his arm, and then begins to talk. His voice is quiet and rough with lingering slumber, the sound of soft kisses, of wild dancing and unbridled laughter filling his head.
When Draco wakes up, once again, somewhere in the dark of the night and under the dim starlights of the constellations spell that he doesn't remember casting for a second time, there is nobody at the floor of his bedside.