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Eyes Wide Open by Lovely_Slytheriness
Chapter 1 : Eyes Wide Open
 
Rating: MatureChapter Reviews: 13


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Eyes Wide Open - A Harry/Draco Fan Fic











The night is dark (challenging, consuming) around us where we stand alone in a dark corridor, my Prefect badge mocking him, stinging his eyes like needles. The air is thin. (Airy, cold.) I shiver. Not like a Malfoy; nowhere near the approval of my father. Nonetheless, I speak.

”Potter... Out after curfew?”

“Shut up, Malfoy. Wanna punish me? Go ahead. Let’s see how a true Slytherin mind works.”

I could tell him how a Slytherin mind is supposed to work, but I can’t show him. Not anymore. I choose to speak again, quietly. (Desperately, softly, urgently.)

“No need for punishment. I need to speak with you. Now.”

Green eyes. So bewildered. (Annoyed, uncertain, tentative.) He’s literally achingly beautiful. Then he speaks, and the spiteful (cold, rejecting, hurtful) tone in his voice burns its way through my exterior of practised detachment to the very core of me, burning my insides with a longing for his affection. (Forgiveness, approval, love.)

“What do you want?”

He is suspicious. (Pensive, torn, guarded.)

My heart race; pearls of sweat breaks through the skin of my temples. I cannot lie, not to him; not anymore. The answer falls far too effortlessly from my lips. “You.”

He tenses visibly at my reply. Pretty emerald eyes widens, and I’m worried I’ve said to much. I’m terrified. (Petrified, hopeful, alone.)

There is nothing between us in that very moment but a igniting of electricity (tension, realisation, mutual disbelief); my confession is followed by the sounds of breathing and the silent noises of a sleeping castle. I feel the black night enclose me, and I cannot breathe anymore. Then he speaks, and the mere fact that he hasn’t hexed me or walked away is enough alone to be reassuring. (Comforting, heartening.)

He is closer now. “Serious?” he mumbles quietly, and my heart stops.

“Perfectly,” I breathe. (Whisper, exhale, sigh.)

“You sure?”

His voice is low (hoarse, husky, wanton) and I’m reduced to nothing but dust; easily shattered by a simple breath of rejection from him. For some unfathomable reason I trust him not to, and so I speak the truth.

“I have never been surer of anything in my life.”

His lips crush against mine and the world fades into nothing; the nonexistent space between us is hot (urgent, passionate, wanton), the air around us is filled with sighs (moans, gasps, whispers) when he has me against the wall; his hands pinning me beneath him (debouched, surrendered, his) as though I’ve belonged there all along.

As I tangle my fingers in his black hair for the very first time I let out a sob of gratitude for this; for being allowed just one glimpse of heaven, even if it’s only for a few minutes, stolen from the moonless night.

I can feel his body move against mine but I cannot see him, and I promise myself that I will love him one day like I’ve always wanted – with my eyes wide open.








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