“His touch lingered probably too long. He wondered what to call this thing, this stealing of glances and touches and moments. The headlong giddiness impelled by the most platonic of hugs. The wanting to be near. He wasn’t foolish enough to call it love, and it was too delicate for lust, but it wasn’t nothing, either. It was Something.”
―
isthisselfcare,
Draco Malfoy and the Mortifying Ordeal of Being in Love