Love Letters
by Sarah Maria

Harry looked down at the piece of parchment in front of him. He read over the last sentence fifteen times and every time it said the same thing.

I love you.

This person... this person whom he had never met, never spoken a word with was in love with him. She loved him.

He'd been conversing with this person for over two months. Only through letters though. The girl, she was too scared to confront him, so she started writing him anonymous letters and he started writing back.

She said it had only started out as a crush. But the more they talked (well wrote to each other, rather) the more they felt that there was an undeniable connection between the two of them.

By now, this feeling had sunk so deeply into Harry's head and his heart and his soul. It was at the bottom of his very being.

There were only a few words running through Harry's mind and it wasn't because he was reading that sentence repeatedly, either. It was because... he actually did feel something in his very being. He really did feel this way and it scared the hell out of him.

I love you too.


Harry was a nervous wreck and probably would be until the moment he met her. He'd gotten the letter by a large owl, telling him to meet her in one of the unoccupied dungeon classrooms.

He was now one corridor away from the dungeons and he had a sick, nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach. He felt queasy, but not the normal queasy. He didn't feel like he would throw up, he just felt like he should.

He turned into the dungeons. He saw a door not ten feet in front of him standing ajar and knew that that must be where she was. Waiting for him to meet her. Why did he agree to this? Why did he ever agree to this?

He reached the door and stood stalk still. He couldn't do it; he had to turn back. He was afraid of who it might be, but so utterly curious to find out.

He finally decided. He could bare it. He opened the door enough to fit his body through and closed it behind him. He blinked. In the low light he couldn't see much of anything. His eyes searched the room.

He stopped breathing.

There was someone there... in the corner.

Well of course there is you dope. That's why you came here wasn't it? Were you not expecting to meet someone? Harry opened his mouth. It was dry. He cleared his throat but words still wouldn't surface. He finally did the only thing he could do: he stepped closer to the person to see who it was.

He froze when he finally saw the person's face. Shock overtook his features and the other person seemed to look quizzically at him.

Harry blinked for more than five minutes. But every time he opened his eyes it was still the same person in front of him.

"You... you are... Malfoy?" Harry finally spoke out.

"Yes. Yes, I am a Malfoy." Draco laughed.

"You... you... you're a guy," Harry said stupidly.

"Last time I checked," Draco replied simply, his gaze was even and content.

"Is this some kind of joke?" Harry said, getting a bit angry and defensive now.

"In all due respect, Potter, I wouldn't joke about something like this." Draco said, eyes twinkling. Twinkling?

"But I thought... I thought you... I thought you hated me." Harry exclaimed.

"I thought you hated me," Draco said to him.

"I do," Harry answered.

Draco looked at Harry intently, stepping closer to him. He placed his head right above Harry's left shoulder, breathing into his ear, "Then what's the problem?"


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