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It was those damn shining eyes. Those eyes that sparkled with joy whenever Zabini told a joke. Those eyes that gleamed with mischief whenever Malfoy and Parkinson were plotting something. Those eyes that became so bright whenever he managed a difficult spell. Those damn bright silver eyes.
Harry told Ron and Hermione so, but they looked at him like he had gone insane. Dull grey, they said. They couldn't see what Harry saw: the light, the brightness, that twinkle that made Malfoy's eyes the most beautiful eyes Harry had ever seen.
"Can you shut up already about the ferret's eyes? I think I'm going to puke," Ron said.
"But don't you see how pretty they are?"
"At least you didn't use another synonym for 'shiny' this time. I was starting to think you had learnt a dictionary by heart."
"Shut up, Hermione! Just… look at him!"
The three of them turned to the corner where Malfoy was talking with his friends. And Harry wondered once again how he managed to look like that, so absolutely gorgeous.
"I still can't see it," Hermione huffed.
"He's in love," Ron shrugged.
"Malfoy's in love?" For some reason, the thought made Harry's insides twist.
"You, you idiot! You're in love with Malfoy!" Ron almost shouted while Hermione sniggered.
"I'm not in love with… How dare you say… It's Malfoy!"
And yet… those damn bright eyes.