Harry sat in silence, staring upon the clouds floating in the sky. He was on the train back to Hogwarts, returning for his 5th year. Ron and Hermione were across from him, speaking of something Harry honestly could care less about.
He felt rather down today. As if his whole world was about to turn upside down. He didn't know why. After all, he was returning to his one true home. His body was cold. His soul felt empty. His mind full of images of Cedric. Over and over again, the sight of the boy hitting the ground. He hadn't stop thinking about it. It ran through his mind every day and night. He needed it to stop. Yet, every time he pushed it away, and would try to have a laugh. He felt guilty. Cedric could never laugh again, smile again, breath again.
His thoughts were interrupted by a voice in the doorway. Lifting his head up, his eyes met with grey. The prettiest grey he had ever witnessed in his lifetime.
"Got a staring problem, Potter?" The voice scolded.
"More of a hating problem, Malfoy. What do you want?" Harry's stare never left those eyes.
"Just wanted to see how the famous Harry Potter is doing." Draco sarcastically said, annoyed by the boy who lived. Crabbe and Goyle laughed, they were standing by his side as usual.
Harry wanted to reply. But, he got lost into those eyes. They looked like a dark sky, after a horrible storm. A big beautiful dark sky.
"Go away, Malfoy" Ron spatted out.
What? No! Harry didn't want him to leave. Why was this though? Why hadn't he been throwing any insult he could think of at this boy who had tormented him since the first day they had met? Harry, being so distracted by the thoughts hadn't realized that Malfoy had left.
"Harry?" Hermione's voice seemed so far away. "Harry, are you feeling okay?"
"Yeah." Harry faked a smile, shaking off the feelings running throughout him. "I'm perfectly fine."
Hermione looked at him for a few moments, before returning to the conversation she was having with Ron, before being rudely interrupted.
Why had Harry stared? He had known this boy for four years, and he yet to have ever noticed those eyes before. This boy was his mortal enemy. He was supposed to hate him. Why was it he seemed to be growing so fond of him? What was so special, that Harry never had noticed before? Could it be his hair? The hair that reminded him of snow. His voice? His attitude? The way he swayed his hips, when he walked? He kept thinking on and on about this, before the train came to a complete stop.
"Ready for a new year, mate?" Ron asked.
"Yeah, I'm ready." Harry answered, honestly; and he was. He was ready for everything. That's when it finally hit him. It was those eyes that made Malfoy so special. He was ready, for those grey eyes.