Drabble. Harry Potter fandom.
character study in charcoal
harry potter x draco malfoy
377 words
pg
authornote The first HP based anything that I've written in a long while. It's short, and there is no capitalization because it's supposed to be stylized, but still. It's finished, and I like it well enough. So I figure I might as well post it. :}
his face is the masterpiece of youth, cultivated and protected by wealth and power, and you stare at it while he sleeps - memorizing every contour, the way each shadow dips and curls in the gentle hollows of his cheeks, beneath the arches of his brow. you follow every curve and angle with the glass surface of your eyes, tracing patterns into the labyrinthine passages of your mind, until you can lie back peacefully, head against the pillow, and see it reflected there on the canvas of your skin.
he speaks so articulately on most days. each word is carefully planned, sharpened with his lightning wit - the same one that flashes behind the silver panes of his irises when those curtains aren't shut - and delivered with the same fatal grace of a sword stroke. you don't think he ever studied fencing, but you aren't sure. after all, children of privilege are often bestowed the most elegant gifts. but there are days, too, when he stutters over the vowels as they trip over his teeth. these are the days you cherish, when his passion is so strong that it breaks down all of the grammar, the syntax, and unleashes the barest fragments on the world, on your ears. these are the days that you mark on the calendar with miniscule stars. it's these so-called impediments that you clutch close to your heart, replaying them with every fresh pulse.
something in the way that he moves captivates you. he doesn't dance - not unless the crowd's gaze is trained on him and a partner so beautiful that she almost matches up to his ethereal charm. almost. and yet the nimble steps that he takes to avoid the great, sprawling puddles after new rain tap out a beat. the music of his motion that you find yourself humming along to when you're lonely during the day. he gestures with his hands when he speaks, making swirls and sharp angles and brilliant patterns in the air. you don't dare look away while he does it. if you watch closely enough you may be able to catch the shine of his essence dissipating into the atmosphere. you wish he'd stop moving so that you could soak it all in, yourself.
C&C is much appreciated.
harry potter x draco malfoy
377 words
pg
authornote The first HP based anything that I've written in a long while. It's short, and there is no capitalization because it's supposed to be stylized, but still. It's finished, and I like it well enough. So I figure I might as well post it. :}
his face is the masterpiece of youth, cultivated and protected by wealth and power, and you stare at it while he sleeps - memorizing every contour, the way each shadow dips and curls in the gentle hollows of his cheeks, beneath the arches of his brow. you follow every curve and angle with the glass surface of your eyes, tracing patterns into the labyrinthine passages of your mind, until you can lie back peacefully, head against the pillow, and see it reflected there on the canvas of your skin.
he speaks so articulately on most days. each word is carefully planned, sharpened with his lightning wit - the same one that flashes behind the silver panes of his irises when those curtains aren't shut - and delivered with the same fatal grace of a sword stroke. you don't think he ever studied fencing, but you aren't sure. after all, children of privilege are often bestowed the most elegant gifts. but there are days, too, when he stutters over the vowels as they trip over his teeth. these are the days you cherish, when his passion is so strong that it breaks down all of the grammar, the syntax, and unleashes the barest fragments on the world, on your ears. these are the days that you mark on the calendar with miniscule stars. it's these so-called impediments that you clutch close to your heart, replaying them with every fresh pulse.
something in the way that he moves captivates you. he doesn't dance - not unless the crowd's gaze is trained on him and a partner so beautiful that she almost matches up to his ethereal charm. almost. and yet the nimble steps that he takes to avoid the great, sprawling puddles after new rain tap out a beat. the music of his motion that you find yourself humming along to when you're lonely during the day. he gestures with his hands when he speaks, making swirls and sharp angles and brilliant patterns in the air. you don't dare look away while he does it. if you watch closely enough you may be able to catch the shine of his essence dissipating into the atmosphere. you wish he'd stop moving so that you could soak it all in, yourself.
C&C is much appreciated.