Warnings:AU wartime fic
Summary:All Draco wanted was a cup of tea. Now he has to find out what Potter is doing with all of those purple things.
Why I loved it:For one thing I just love everything saras_girl writes....It is lovely, beautiful and so very glorious.
Draco's pov was snarky, funny and smart. He is also scared of Kreacher and he is a little scary to me to. :) Draco's clothing description was rich in detail and he loved going around barefoot *swoons*
Harry is brave and perfect so brilliant for Draco.....And with a line like this....Back in there,” Harry says, gesturing negligently at the now-unassuming stretch of wall. “I wanted to... well... I didn’t want you to think I was only interested in kissing you if we were hidden away where nobody could see.” :DDDDDDDDDD
♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
Her fics are all perfect and this one is just flawless. Sara also makes me happy and smile they can brighten anyone's day. Let's hope for a continuation one day with 30,000 words at least. LOL!
A large excerpt:
“Who the bloody hell...?” he murmurs, trailing into silence as he steps into the kitchen.
Of course it’s Potter. Of course it is.
And of course he’s shirtless, just standing there at the counter in faded jeans and nothing else, because it’s Harry Potter, and of course he cuts up mysterious purple vegetables, half-naked, at five o’clock in the morning. Draco grips his wand tightly and takes in a long, ragged breath. Frozen to the spot, he watches the light muscles shifting under Harry’s skin, caught up in quiet absorption. His eyes drift along Harry’s spine, silently cataloguing the burns and bruises, the pink-silvery twist of old scars and the livid red of new ones. He holds in a wince, wondering for the first time why no one has ever thought to heal those injuries for him. It would be the work of a moment for someone who knew what they were doing; even he could...
“If you’re coming in, Malfoy, just come in. You’re making me nervous, standing there like a bloody statue,” Potter says irritably. He doesn’t turn around.
“How did you know it was me?” Draco asks before he can stop himself.
“The Inner Eye,” Potter says, bringing his large knife down with a bang onto a heavy wooden board.
Draco blinks. “I highly doubt that you are a Seer.”
“Sure I am,” Harry says, gesturing with his knife. “I can see you in the window.”