café au lait {drarry}

16 - god crafted

h.p.

"i'm quitting drinking," draco said one day, looking up from his book. i look up from my own. "i'm ready to admit i have a drinking problem and i am becoming addicted,"

"oh," i said. "you're going cold turkey?"

"that's such a strange phrase. cold turkey. what's with muggles and birds? goosebumps. cold turkey. night owl. a little bird told me. silly goose."

i laughed. "i don't know."

"cold turkey. yes. i won't drink at all. not a drop." he says resolutely.

i shrugged. "i'll do it with you. i don't drink much but butterbeer anyway."

we went back to reading in silence. there's so many silent things i love about him.

i used to think my favorite color was dark, rich red but now i hugely favor the light pink draco's face turns when i nibble at his neck or tell him that he's handsome. i like kissing his hands. they're always cold and pale and his fingers are long and graceful. i'd kiss his palms and his fingers and warm them up with mine. he hasn't used a single drop of gel since the war and i vastly prefer is naturally falling locks. the blonde looks magical under the morning sun and i love how it falls over his forehead. i'd twirl his silky, straight hair between my fingers until i fell asleep. his features were so sharp, yet soft. i loved running my thumb up his jaw line and tracing this delicate collarbones with my lips. i love the little smile he'd give me in the morning and the smirk he'd give me in the evening. everything about him was hand crafted by god, surely. he had to be some type of miracle to be mine.