Vero*

“Oh yeah? And what do you dream about, Golden Boy? Being able to survive one quidditch practice without drama?”

“Actually, no, Malfoy! I dream a lot about you: about you being my friend and offering me your hand once more, about you saying you’re in love with me, about your eyes that actually look god damn attractive when you smile for real, about your fingers when you play the piano, about your idiotic perfect hair, about you shoving me up against the wall, about your lips sometimes kissing mi…”

Harry clasped his hand on the mouth, making himself stop speaking, horrified.