Every time she’d talked back, or glared at him, or shot some flesh-melting quip, the wonderfully random curls in her hair would get drawn in, then colored. Then it was the light freckles sprinkled across her nose. Then her hands. Again, it was a very peculiar thing, but the very day Draco had felt the “sickness” was the day the entire picture had been filled in. (x)
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