As the expansive fields of flowers opened up ahead of them, beautiful as they probably were, Harry found that they paled in comparison to Draco. Every flower washed out by blue, Harry wasn't sure he agreed that this was the best part od the garden, believing them to be far less capturing than the feel of Draco's hand in his.<br/>The chill fo the evening had snuck up on Harry, sending needles up his spise as soon as they left the warming charm of the gazebo. Draco, however, remained a familiar source of heat and Harry had to stop himself from chasing it.<br/>"They're lovely," Harry said regardless, his voice sounding far away, even to himself. He was still looking at the garden, trying to muster a sense of believabiloty to his response.<br/>It's wasn't a lie, but it was difficult to care. A glance in Draco's direction only confirmed it, making Harry's heart ache with something he hoped was pitiful desire. Having left the gazebo, thee unfiltered moonlight now shined directly on Draco, the fairness of his skin and hair illuminating him in a way that no muddled<span style="font-style: italic">red-blue-brown</span>rose could compete with.