Hello, lovelies. No, I'm not dead yet. Just a lot busier.
Presenting Emerald Eyes.
He watched him. After the war, He, Draco Malfoy, had gotten to know Harry Potter rather well, as a friend. They got along, and so on so forth. But only through letters. In real life, they were no more than acquaintances, speaking to each other only when absolutely necessary.
Then, this feeling came. He was struck by it, all of a sudden. It was breakfast in the hall, and he had just watched the saviour of the wizarding world enter with his friends. His eyes had watched every single movement, from the slight smile on his lips to the way he shuffled his feet nervously at times. The way his hair fell over his eyes in the messiest way possible, and his hands clenching slightly in the black of the robes.
Draco would spend hours watching the Gryffindor fly about the pitch, in secret. He gazed at Potter skimming the tips of his trainers over the grass lightly, before pulling upwards sharply to meet the heavens and the drowning rush of winds. He admired the way Harry swerved neatly in a fancy eight when feeling whimsical or frivolous. He enjoyed Potter's joyful laugh at catching the training Snitch.
But most of all, he loved those emerald orbs that Harry called eyes.
Privately, he wondered how it came about. How he joined those of a lower level than him, to be fawning over Harry Fucking Potter. During lessons and such, he would feel the weight of those emerald green eyes settling on him, making his face feel hot. Turning around to challenge Harry's gaze, he was usually rewarded with a slight smile and the feeling of those eyes' focus sliding away from him. He remembered the way those eyes ran over him, raking his skin, stripping away those layers he'd built to protect himself. Draco could feel the solemn grief within them, the happiness within them, and the perplexity at times. He was an enigma.
Draco Malfoy's enigma.
Should I post a sequel? Tell me. This is loosely based on my own love, so pardon any inconsistencies.