First HP fic. I became ridiculously obsessed with HP again after the new movie. What a spiffy movie, eh?
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any aspect of it.
His skin. Pale and luxuriously soft.
His eyes. Stormy with emotion building behind them.
His hair. Blonde and smooth to the touch.
His lips. Plump, pink, and perfectly…just positively lovely.
His body. Firm and masculine. Foreign.
His fingers. Talented, long and thin.
This man…was absolutely brilliant. Although he was hidden under a mask, forced into secrecy, and cast under a dark shadow, one would get the feeling that he was always on the side of good. He cared about his friends more than anyone could think was possibly for someone that appeared so cold. And again, he was brilliant. No one could dare call any conversation with him bland, because when an intelligent talk was being held between intelligent people, it wouldn't possibly bore you.
And he loved more fiercely than anyone thought possible. There was no explanation for why he expressed his feelings in the most romantic, adoring ways after the war.
Harry just supposed it was because the dark influences were pulled away from him, and the man could finally become his own person.
And Harry loved this person.
He wasn't Malfoy anymore.
He was Draco.