That was Draco’s only coherent thought as he flipped through your sketchbook. As to how its in his possession; well, he didn’t exactly steal it per se. He just happened to be in the area when you dropped it and then he also just happened to pick it up and, uh, didn’t yet get around to returning it, yeah.
He is planning to return it of course but we mustn’t forget that he is also a Slytherin after all and you didn’t even put any wards on the thing so it’s technically your fault that he is now lying in his bed carefully examining each page.
He’s got to admit that you have talent though. Each drawing seems to leap out of the page. They look almost real enough to be able to touch. As for what you draw, Draco hasn’t yet been able to discern any pattern in your objects of inspiration. You seem to draw everything; the Whomping Willow, the quidditch pitch, a hippogryff, a teapot?, a basket of fruit, treacle tart, a birthday cake etc. Turning to the next page he’s surprised to see a full body portrait of Blaise Zabini.
Ah yeah, they’re friends now, aren’t they.
This is a development his isn’t all that happy about but seeing as he can’t seem to gather enough courage to talk to you himself there is literally nothing he can do about it.
Something at the bottom left corner catches his attention and he realizes that it’s a caption:
‘This guy isn’t as funny as he likes to think he is’
Draco raises his eyebrow in amusement and turns to the next page. This time he greeted with a very realistic Harry Potter and he’s already rolling his eyes before he can stop himself. Of course you would draw him, best friends and all that. This picture had a caption too:
‘Harry, your hair alone took me 4 hours. Fucking fix it’
He snorted out loud this time and covered his mouth in horror. Mother would not be proud. All of the pages after that were drawings of people with little captions underneath;
‘The day you stop eating is the day Professor McGonagall dies her hair pink.’
‘When in doubt, go to The Hermibrary’
‘I will not apologize for saying I despise your frog, Neville.’
‘Please stop telling me that my head is full of wrackspurts’
‘Stop blowing things up my dude’
There was even one of Pansy and the caption underneath made him laugh out loud.
‘I will never get back the full 40 minutes it took me to shade your cleavage, Parkinson.’
The next page made Draco stop in his tracks and his eyes widen almost comically.
She drew me. She actually fucking drew me. Holy shit holy shit holy shit.
It was a simple picture. All he seemed to be doing was standing and staring off into the distance. He really doesn’t want to read the caption. What will it say? That he’s a git? That you hate his guts?
After what felt like forever he managed to gather up his wits and like a true and proper Malfoy he looked at the caption head on.
‘I wish he would smile more’
Bewildered, Draco read it again. Smile more? Why would you want him to smile more? Malfoys don’t smile. At least not in public.
Ignoring how abnormally fast his heart was now beating he turned to the next page and let out a noise that sounded suspiciously like a squeak because it was another drawing of him. This time he was in the library hunched over a book. His eyes flickered to the caption; ‘Well well well, he does study’
He traced it with his finger. “Of course I study” He scoffed but his words held no bite. He flipped to the next sketch……. another drawing of him?
This one was of him in Potions class, carefully measuring out an ingredient.
‘He’s quite good at this class’
The next one was of him in quidditch uniform.
‘Fucking smile already, you git’
Refusing to acknowledge the butterfies that now occupied his stomach Draco quickly flipped through all the pages. They were all drawings of him. He snapped the book shut and buried his face in his hands.
Oh god oh god oh god. He’s definitely blushing.
Up until now he hasn’t dared to let himself think about it. Hasn’t allowed himself to hope. But what if-oh merlin what if - no, it can’t be.
Slowly, Draco reopened the sketchbook and turned to the very last page. His breath caught in his throat as he took it all in. It was a strange picture. The lines seemed rough and hurried as if you were in a rush when you drew it, in fact you seem to have given all the details to his face. His heart clenched suddenly when he saw why. In this picture, he was smiling.
‘He’s smiling. Took you a whole fucking book too, you prick’
Draco let the book fall into his lap as he put his face back in hands his brain going a hundred million miles an hour because what if, just what if-
I’m an old man living alone in an old house. My wife and I bought it
10 years ago, just before she passed. I don’t know how old it is. If I
had to guess, I’d say at least 150 years. It’s your typical old house
in back country southern United States, surrounded by forest and far
from the closest neighbor.