Such Sweet Sorrow

Thirty-One

Eloise Waldorf

Draco's favorite color is dark green. Of course. I asked him to pick a second favorite and he said forest green, so that didn't really change anything. 

His favorite season is fall, because he lives the colors of the leaves. He also liked when it got darker earlier in autumn, because he liked playing Quidditch under the lights. 

He prefers dogs to cats, but not the small yippy dogs. He said those give him a headache. 

He thinks Divination is complete bullshit, but does think that zodiac signs may hold some weight to them once I described to him the traits of a Gemini, which he possessed most of. 

He once saw his mother use her wand to put curls in her hair when he was young, so when she wasn't looking, he used her wand to try it on himself. His father was furious but his mother couldn't help but laugh and admire his observational skills. 

All this and so much more I learned about Draco Malfoy over the next week, of which we spent a lot of together, surprisingly enough. 

We had made a habit of chatting late at night in each other's rooms. Each night, one of us would give three signature knocks, checking to see if the other was still awake, signaling that whoever was knocking was unable to find sleep. 

Within a minute of the three knocks, either his or my door was opening, and like clockwork we were talking about every topic under the sun. That's how I had come to know so much about him. Even small, insignificant things that might not have mattered to anyone else, but I found incredibly fascinating about the Slytherin boy I once perceived to be nothing more than a pompous prick. 

And he, surprisingly, had plenty of questions and curiosities for me as well. he was quite the listener, and an active one at that. He never seemed uninterested, even if I caught myself rambling on about something that anyone else would have ignored or tuned out of. He listened, and not just at the surface level. The expressions he made and the questions he asked almost stunned me. Never did a person listen so intently to me before, and never did I think that of all people it would be Draco Malfoy that took an interest in anything I had to say. 

He prefers staying in to going out, but always went out with his friends anyways to make sure no one made a fool out of themselves, and because he was a teenage boy after all. But now, staying in was his only option, and he was content with it. 

The only time he has ever had a bloody nose was after Hermione punched him in the face during third year, and he could have sworn that she had broke it. He clearly still wasn't over that one. 

Pansy Parkinson taught him how to braid hair our second year, and he used that skill to discover a new way to tie his Quidditch shoes so that they didn't become loose during a match. He was quite proud of that, as he insisted on showing me how well of a plat he could make of my hair, because apparently he thought I wasn't believing in his abilities. 

Each of our chats ended the way they always did.

With both of us falling once there was even a moment of silence. The sleep was always peaceful and undisturbed. Never once did I wake with the panics of a nightmare or the stress of an upcoming day. I always found myself in calm, steady sleep that allowed my body to relax in a way I thought I would never be able to again. 

And each morning we woke the same way. While we fell asleep in whatever position we were talking in, we always woke with limbs intertwined, my head on his chest, his arms wrapped around me. 

And never did it feel awkward or forced. It happened naturally and felt natural as we both fell into the same position again and again each night. Sometimes I found myself keeping my eyes closed for a few minutes longer after I woke, just to savor the peaceful moments that I had grown quite fond of.