Potter's hands are attractive - slim white fingers, unassuming, but reflexive. His palms are wide, nails square and unbitten.

Surprising, really.

Potter's hands are heinous at chopping roots, and are less than enthused to pick up a book.

They're hands that make thumbing the length of a wand look like pure sex. They're hands adept at clutching a broomstick.

Especially Draco's broomstick.

In the broom closet, where Potter kisses Draco feverishly while stroking Draco's cock, Potter pants that Draco is a smarmy git, and that he still hates him.

Draco's reply comes back, slow and patronizing.

"Of course you do."