Bland.
Not numb.
Not broken.
Bland.
It was the small things that the pale haired boy noticed at first.
Like how his favorite food merely tasted like an everyday meal.
His favorite song no longer made his leg jiggle along to the rhythm as it always did.
The task of slicking back his hair, placing every hair where it should be, now seemed like a chore instead of something that was once done with pride.
The war had lifted many people up.
It had taken many lives.
For Draco Malfoy?
It had taken the color out of his world.
Which only caused Harry fucking Potter to shine even brighter.
All my other stories have been rushed and fucking choppy. I solemnly swear that I am going to take my time on this one.
YOU ARE READING
Bland. \ \ Drarry \ \
FanfictionThere are no words for how a certain pale haired boy is feeling towards the one and only 'chosen one'. The wars over. Friends are gone. Lives are destroyed. So why does it seem like Draco's is just starting?
