A/N: This might well be the shortest thing I've ever written, but it just feels right ending it where I did. This is supposed to be Harry's point of view, talking about Draco. I left it very open for a reason. Enjoy!
Muse
He's a very quiet person, once you get to know him. I know that sounds completely backwards, but the person most people know is only a front. The real person lies in hiding, waiting for the layers to be peeled back and examined delicately, one by one. Most people think of him as cold and aloof, but I'm sure they've never heard his warm laugh or seen his gentle smile, or the way his face lights up when he's doing something he loves.
Sometimes I can't speak around him without it sounding monosyllabic, and at other times I ramble and make a fool of myself. He just smiles warmly at me, and I melt like ice in return. I think in poetry when I talk to him. Stanza by stanza, I take him in like water, his evocative voice washing through me, cleansing me.
Someone once asked me what I see in him. I in turn asked them what they don't see. The silver of his eyes pours into my soul, shrouding me with something deeper than love, than passion or lust. He fills me with a ragged need, so raw and so real and so beautiful that it makes me ache deep in my heart. There is a very fine line between love and pain, and sometimes it's hard to see when we've crossed it, and even harder to care when we have.
He inspires me to be a better person. When I'm around him, I feel like everything bad in my life is merely a shadow, the buzz of an annoying fly on an otherwise pleasant day. Everything pales in comparison to him, and I can never seem to get enough. He's my addiction, my passion, my muse.
A/N: I hope you liked it, and I would love to hear your thoughts and opinions, so leave a review! Thanks for reading!