A/N: So this is basically a story about Draco Malfoy where each chapter will be about a new part of him.. It's just mindless rambling which I've tried to structure just a bit.
This is a bet with some of my friends who wants to see how long I can ramble about him
When I first saw Draco Malfoy, I noticed a lot of things, and though they can all be summed up to one word, beautiful, they still all had such a strong effect on everything about him.
His eyes, those cold grey eyes which always seemed to scan your body, judging you, accepting you, was what I saw the clearest. Grey eyes placed nicely over the cheekbones in the already pale face, taking all hope of any colour about him away.
Besides matching the skin, they also matched the white-blond hair in its paleness. The grey colour only increasing the cool, calm look he always wore in them, only to be replaced with judgement, resentment, disgust, when there was something, or someone he didn't like.
But of course their colour wasn't the only thing I noticed, nor the only thing in which they reassembled his other features.
When I looked at these cold eyes, I also saw elegance and arrogance, which lay in every single feature, every movement, every breath, every heartbeat, and every second it would lie in the eyes of this pretty boy.
The elegant lay in how the eyes never moved faster than he could see everything they went past clearly, never wanting to miss out on anything, seeing every information he could get as useful for later, doing with it as he wanted and not hesitating on using in his own interests. It lay in the way they closed slowly, as if they almost expected that something big would happen if he closed them fast, and how the long just-as-blonde-as-the-hair lashes swayed like butterfly wings when he closed and opened them. It lay in the way they could fall on everyone with the same resentment, coldness, not ever bothering showing any positive emotion, and rarely letting the emotion get further than his eyes.
The arrogance lay in the way he could look down on you, no matter how much he had to lean his head backwards, no matter how much you did to push him down from the pedestal his parents had glued his feet and soul to long ago. Lying in the way he was able to get those wonderful sparks in his eyes which seemed like flowing silver which appeared on the rare occasions he laughed; to vanish completely even before his smile had vanished if he suddenly saw something which didn't please him.
Just the emotion in those eyes could sometime take my breath away. They were able to hold so much happiness and joy when he was sitting on his broom with the snitch in his hand and the team members all hugging him while they stirred towards the ground, and the second after they could change to the most incredible and fierce hatred when he saw that Gryffindor had won either way because they had scored enough goals during the match, and then moving on to resentment and superiority as Dumbledore announced that Slytherin had still won the Quidditch cup with a total of more points than Gryffindor.
And all of this is of course without mentioning the way his eyes could change from a timberwolf grey to a charcoal grey just over the course of a day, darkening when he was in a bad mood and lightening up every time he could feel superior or in any other way could raise his mood from the selfish, bored, supremacy coldness he always expressed.