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Pretty Boy, Butch Girl

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The boy was reclining against the back of a park bench, platinum hair pushed back with a few strands falling onto his pretty face. His large, round, silver eyes were half-lidded, and he seemed quite sleepy. He had a small, cute nose, soft, small lips, and a thin, pointy chin. His cheeks were chiseled and, overall, he was a very… pretty… boy. He wore a silver-white shirt with glittering silver swirls beneath a black cloth jacket, beneath a large grey autumn coat. His skinny jeans were black and were tucked into Chuck Taylor All-Star converse shoes.
Harry Potter was taken by him, sitting there, a soft smile on his face as he studied the busy park, full of families playing on the play structures and couples giggling on benches and small groups of teens laughing in the multicolored trees.
Though he’d only been looking at the boy for a moment, he quickly sensed Harry’s gaze and they suddenly made eye contact. Anxiously, Harry smiled and then quickly turned around, before realizing there wasn’t anything to do. He was just out for a walk, and if he walked away, he’d just enter the cul-de-sac he lived in once more. Face now burning with embarrassment against the chilled breeze, he turned again, face down, walking. He glanced over to the boy, who was smiling amusedly, and Harry was nearly taken aback. He was… Beautiful. Gorgeous. Color, probably from the cold, was tinting his nose and cheeks pink, contrasting with the overall paleness of his face. He looked like a pretty statue, especially with the wide smile on his face. Swallowing, and blushing even harder, Harry turned away and walked forward, pushing his hands into his coat pockets, smiling as he tucked the bottom half of his face into the collar.
Draco Malfoy watched the - boy?- walk away. He, admittedly, couldn’t quite tell- he was no taller than five six, and thin, but the large, ribbed jacket covered everything from his chin to his midthigh. His legs were sporting a loose pair of jeans, and his face looked pretty androgynous, though leaned a bit towards the feminine. His short, wild hair was unstyled and haphazardly pushed under a beanie, curls peeking out the back and sides. If Draco were to completely guess, he’d guess he was a feminine guy or a butch girl. However, at the distance and with little information, it was a bit hard to tell. Either way, he’d been quite cute, and he’d been grinning at Draco like a doof.
Maybe he was trans, Draco thought, his smile renewing. Draco… Wished he knew more trans people. The whole confused, uncomfortable tenseness flooded Draco once more and he closed his eyes, exhaling long and slow through his nose. Everything reminded Draco about this- was he trans? Was he a girl? Was he just feminine? What the fuck was going on? He wished he knew someone who was trans and who had been through it and could help him figure it all out.
Draco looked up to see the boy(?) in the big red jacket had gotten quite far away. It really didn’t matter, honestly. Just a stranger walking down the road, who’d stay a stranger. A melancholy feeling settled over him. How many people did he see in this park, could, in the right circumstance, one day become a best friend? A lover? Draco sighed, then sat up, suddenly disheartened by the company of other people. He stood and started walking, zipping his jacket and buttoning his coat, walking across the park and into the long, winding driveway that led to his large house, trying to decide on an activity he could do without being bored, mindless, and outrageously dissatisfied, and finding none.