Ron's blue eyes

The war had ended a mere week ago, though Draco had yet to celebrate the newly found freedom that had been bestowed on the Wizarding World. For the past week, Draco had sat in St. Mungo’s hospital, his pale hand clasped tightly around the freckly one that lay motionless on the crisp white hospital bed.

Draco stared at Ron’s body, watching his chest rise and fall, letting the world pass him by. Healers had drifted in and out, as well as Molly and Arthur Weasley, Ron’s siblings and his friends, all speaking words of comfort that neither eased Draco’s worry nor lessened his pain. He had spent the last week blaming himself for Ron’s current situation. If he hadn’t have been in the battle at Riddle Manor, then Ron would never have jumped in front of the unknown curse that had been aimed at Draco.

Draco had relieved that moment in his head countless times. Hearing over and over again the sound of Ron shouting his name then screaming as the curse had hit him, sending him crashing to the floor.

It had been a week, yet Draco could still not look at Ron’s face. He could not bear the fact that it had been his fault that Ron’s blue eyes had closed and may never open again. He’d never again see them crinkle as Ron laughed about something; or shine when he smiled. Mostly, Draco couldn’t bear the thought that he may never again see the intense look that those blue eyes held whenever they made love. It had always been Ron’s eyes that had convinced Draco of Ron’s love, much more forcibly than any words that the redhead could have said.

Therefore, Draco sat by Ron’s bedside, staring at his chest, and praying that the next time he looked at that beautiful face there would be two bright blue eyes looking back.