Draco loves

      Draco loves the amber’s shimmering when the sun patches of reflected light in Hermione’s eyes. Watch the warm autumn rays gently touching the girl’s skin and feel weightless like them.       Draco loves to tuck the girl’s unruly strands of hair behind her ear while she stands over the cauldron, trying to make the perfect potion. Laugh at the funny way she wrinkles her nose and frowns when she can’t get a certain color or the right steam spirals. And as a result, to pull a satisfied girl by the waist, when she sparkles with her success.       Draco loves when Hermione defends her point of view. How Potter gritting his teeth greets him and then whispers in her ear about the wrong choice. Malfoy gets angry, entering into a squabble, unable to control his emotions. And then Granger ostentatiously approaches him leaving a chaste kiss on his lips, as sweet as a cherry. Taking away his anger.       Draco loves it when Granger ties her (nasty-Gryffindor’s collored) scarf around his neck. Loves feeling her warmth through soft fabric. And absolutely don’t care about Blaze’s jokes about the color. Red is dearer than anything else in the world for him.       Draco loves to put off this excellent student in Transfiguration class. And even if they are in the audience together, they are sitting on opposite sides. Granger is paired with Potter or Weasley, and Draco is invariably with Zabini. Draco likes to unbutton the top buttons of his shirt, send questioning and seductive glances and catch her annoyed glance. Studying is sacred.       Draco loves kissing his name on Hermione’s wrists. No matter where — in the library, bedroom or corridor — he leaves an invisible seal: the property of Malfoy.       Draco loves to adjust the collar of her sweater, which is several sizes too large, and to blow invisible specks of dust from her shoulders. Just as a reason to touch. Just as a reason to see her smile again. And smile too, capturing this moment in memory among thousands of similar photographs. Where no one is like the other. Draco loves Hermione’s feigned jealousy. Watch how random touches to Pansy awaken the evil fury in her. And how she asks for forgiveness later, realizing that only one girl Malfoy needs in this world. Only the one whose soul tastes like early autumn.       Draco loves to sit at the Gryffindor table at dinner. Feel how other people’s gazes are piercing his back. And then feed her pieces of sliced apples, joke with the youngest Weasley (the most normal among the whole family, as it turned out) about Granger’s clumsiness and wipe the remnants of strawberry jam from the edge of her lips with her thumb. Nod goodbye to Potter and Weasley, dragging their friend away by the hand.       Draco loves Hermione’s stubborn nature. He amuses himself by watching how the young beast raising her voice, proves that she is right. And Malfoy manages to deliberately infuriate the girl by presenting lies as his opinion. Only to hear an indignant tone. And then pull her towards him, kissing the top of her head, admitting defeat.       Draco loves the play of high tones. Tenacious fingers on the ironed sheets. Three moles under the collarbone. The five letters of own name in Hermione’s lips, her rapid heartbeat and shortness of breath are mind-boggling. Loves to kiss every millimeter of a naked body and enjoy kisses in return. Draco loves to wrap new books in gift wrapping, which Hermione, of course, tears apart in impatience. Laugh when a girl buries her nose in a book, inhaling the ink letters. Loves interlace their fingers while she dives back into reading; periodically pull Granger — the bad habit of biting nails does not disappear over the years.       Draco loves hot chocolate with marshmallows, catching butterflies in a net to get a closer look at the pattern of their wings, and splashing his feet in the cold water of the Black Lake. He loves everything that he didn’t attach importance to until she appeared. Because looking at the world from a different angle is also a valuable skill. Draco loves the sight of flower arrangements in Hermione’s hands. And it doesn’t matter that Narcissa came up with half of them — women always have excellent taste in flowers. He rejoices when he sees every bouquet on Granger’s bedside table, which she keeps until the last withered bud.       Draco loves to fall asleep next to Hermione in the Prefects' Tower. Inhale the berry scent of her curls, getting entangled in them throughout the night. He likes to grumble when a girl takes the blanket away from him, making him freeze. And then move closer because she’s warmer than the damn Sun.       Draco loves to fall asleep next to Hermione, knowing that he will certainly wake up in the morning to her singing in the shower, and then receive his morning kiss. Or even more if the first pair is not Transfiguration.