Nocturne for Quill and InkThe effect is the visual equivalent of white noise, and this is not exactly a co-incidence.
how he pushes the few Muggle items in the house into corners or open drawers and, when he thinks them forgotten, destroys them.
Since that day, he has gained a wary confidence in Harry's character born of careful observation and constant testing; it is nothing so sentimental as trust
All these months of Voldemort's barbarity had schooled him to steel himself against shock. He had not thought he could be taken by surprise any more. Yet here he was, the colour rising in him as ...
Draco communicates in accusations and demands, barbing his sentences with "you" and "they". When it comes to what really matters, the first person never shows.
memory holds on much tighter to physical sensation that to words
Draco laughing...moment seems so entirely alien that he wonders if it's ...
when the war had ended but the belief of it had yet to sink in. Three days when his world was as small and as simple the four walls of that master bedroom, and in it there was nothing but his body and ...
He still signs himself "M". The five unwritten letters are a deliberate withholding. Harry wonders what he would have to do to earn them
There came a point where the gesture of reaching out for D's body was instinctive. He did it in deep sleep. He did it an instant before his mind became aware of the first stirrings of desire. He did it every time memory threatened, which was less and less often as the days passed.
Draco has finally done the unthinkable. This kitchen has been purged of its memories. Molly Weasley never ruled over this place, never overcooked the sausages while she fretted about her children's death. Sirius and Snape never picked each other to pieces. Banished from here are Ron and Ginny, Mundungus, Moody, Dumbledore - all the deaths and all the failures erased. This kitchen is only the place where Draco offered himself to ...
It comes to him that, of all the vague and unlikely plans he has made as he drowsed in the armchair or lay awake in the early morning, Draco is the keystone of every single one. He craves solitude and has spent months creating a wasteland around himself to achieve it, but Draco is meant to be part of that solitude.
Draco's body is the world that Harry lives in. The dunes of his ribs and the ridge of his jaw and the lowlands of his stomach are the only terrain that Harry cares to put his foot upon.
Harry's world drifts into stillness and he closes his eyes.