![]() ![]() He shifted in the chair and refocused, looking down at the parchment on the desk below, blank aside from a mere two lines of writing, a pitiful amount of progress given that they’d been in the library for over two hours. ![]() “I wasn’t,” Draco uttered, his brows knitting in both annoyance and embarrassment, “I was simply thinking of what to write next.” “You were daydreaming again,” Pansy said, her long feathered quill in one hand, the other twirling a finger around a strand of her ink-black hair. “Hm?” Draco jolted back to reality, to the sight of Pansy sitting across from him at the library desk, the little bubble of Harry Potter’s lips popping before his eyes, fading to nothing. The curve of his mouth, lips so soft and inviting, deserving of a kiss or two… someone to take that smile away… just once… replace it with an awestruck gaze or a moment of mesmerisation or– Always hanging from his expression, whether lost in conversation or simply observing in silence, it would radiate warmth to fill the entire room. ![]() His grey Gryffindor jumper was worn and tatty at the hem, oversized from the way he often tucked it over his knees when he sat awkwardly at the desks or the fraying of the sleeves which he played with during uneventful lessons. His hair was a total bird's nest of brunette curls that had clearly never seen a hairbrush and yet it gave off a sort of carefree charm, even more so after his quidditch games, all windswept and messy or damp from the showers, little beads of water dripping as the strands fell over the frames of those stupidly dorky glasses. Why did Harry Potter have to be so bloody perfect all the time? ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |