Inconsolable - Blog Posts
You’ve created and shared something so, so beautiful, and so devastating.
You owe us tissues. Lots of tissues. I ugly sobbed and had to remind myself I have the ability to breathe.
The Boy from the Piano Shop
Harry's hand lingered a little longer on the scarf, even after Draco had released his wrist. He wanted to know everything Draco knew, so he asked,
"What colour is the scarf?"
"Purple," Draco replied, "dark purple, like a plum or a violet."
"Purple," Harry echoed.
Harry touched the colour, trying to etch the feel of purple into his fingers, before his hand reached down and brushed against Draco's soft skin: his cheekbones, his cheeks, his jaw. Harry nodded and returned to his shirt, pulling it off with one hand while keeping the other on Draco's face to make sure he didn't remove the scarf.
"I won't take it off, I promise," Draco whispered.
For some reason, it was one of the few promises Harry knew he could trust. He withdrew his hand from the scarf. His T-shirt was on the floor, and now they were both exposed only to each other's touch.
From The Boy from the Piano Shop, chapter 11