#zvbini

He rocks back on his heels and kicks at a pebble, pinning her with a glare that’s more intent than it is truly angry. “I’ve loved you since I was eleven,” he says again, earnestly, helplessly, and it’s—

It is, she thinks in a daze, the closest thing to a declaration she’s likely to get from him.

Draco is dramatic, yes, dramatic and petulant and downright moody when he wants to be—but he keeps his own secrets. He always has. He shares sparingly, doles out honesty with a savage kind of selfishness that, once upon a time, she’d recognized in herself, too.

But he’s confessing something to her right now.

Something big, and something important, and something risky.