Okay, soI usually forget to put in author notes but I remembered this one time so here goes. I LOVE Harry Potter. Okay. That's about it. Have fun reading! :)


I truly am sorry for everything that has happened. You've ignored my previous letters but know that I will never stop writing to you. Not even in the dreariest of days when I've lost all hope.

Hogwarts. Hogwarts, that truly dreadful, immensely moronic and absolutely wonderful place. Thats where I first saw you. My vision was hazy then, blurred with uncounted boundaries I, pray tell you, should have long back fought. While those conjectures have long dissolved, I struggle everyday. I struggle to tell you how much I wish I could take your time traveller (yes, I know about that) and turn it back to Hogwarts; erase all memories of that word. The one thats carved into your arm now. The one that you've taken with you to where you've gone. Away. Far far away.

I just scratched my nose. While you're wondering, if you are at all, why I just told you that, my nose harbours great many memories. One of which is it being transformed into a little black button on the face of that lousy ferret he turned me into. Mad, he was. Mad as a hatter. But wasn't that what they called him? Mad-Eye Moody? Hated that bloke. You could scare Voldemort away with that face. Scarred and ugly. And I know you admired him and his 'constant vigilance' so I'll keep my offences for the next time. Another memory of my nose, though, is that beautiful punch that you threw at me back in our third year. Hermione Granger, out-and-out bookworm, best friend of the Weasel and The Boy Who Lived To Irritate The Fuck Out Of Me, hits Draco Malfoy, most eligible bachelor in all of the world.

Its just a letter, remember. So I'm going to swear quite a lot knowing that you're not around to throw another swell punch at my face.

Thank God, you haven't bruised it. Imagine the state I'd have been in otherwise. My beautiful face.

Alright, alright, my wonderfully handsome face. A notch below beautiful but it'll have to do.

Potty and She Weasel come around quite often these days. And no, I don't call them that to their faces. Just to you. And their kids. And ours, of course. And my mother who says, "Draco" and shakes her head reproachfully. Speaking of children, James Potter has been eyeing up Lyra for a while. I don't like that boy. Irritating, like his father. Arrogant, like his father. Everything, like his father. YES, EVEN GOOD AT GODAMN QUIDDITCH LIKE HIS FATHER. Don't say anything.

You told me to keep you updated, so here's a full account of whats been happening.

You're a fighter, Granger. But then, you're also too modest to admit that. While you're out fighting, I'm home praying. Praying that you'll come back safe so I can look at you one last time in case I lose you again.

I broke the darn ink bottle. I knew I shouldn't have let you convince me to buy the damn muggle things. Stupid thing. I have to go to Diagon Alley tomorrow to collect some papers so I'll pick up another hundred MAGIC ink bottles. I'll write to you again tomorrow, even though you'll probably ignore it. I'm going crazy. I really think I am. Its dreadful living in a world of undeserved solace. Its horrible. Please save me, Granger. Please.

I love you.

Yours forever,


Draco folded and sealed the letter, tucking it into a box marked, "Letters for my love." He muttered a spell and cleared the daub of ink before stretching. Cursing his aching bones, he cast a satisfying look all around him before lifting the quilts and wiggling under them. Had Draco been awake for just another five minutes he would have seen the silver shimmer glide across the room and pause near his writing desk. He would see the silver shimmer, now distinguishably a girl, lift a box from beneath and desk and settle herself on the brink of his table to read the newest addition.

Had Draco been awake for another five minutes he would have seen a silver tear drop stain the paper of his letter as the girl looked over to him. He would have seen the kiss she blew him as the tears plummeted down her cheek showering the letter. He would have seen, though, that the tears didn't leave any mark. They never had. They never would.

But had Draco Malfoy been awake for just another measly five minutes, he would have seen the scribble she left on the outside of the window in her muggle lipstick. "I love you too, Draco."

Early the next morning, Draco awoke to the sound of splattering rain hitting the shafts. Had Draco woken up earlier, he would have seen the writing before it got washed away, like every other time.

I hope you guys enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Its a bit scattered, I knobrand I should have organised it better, so I'm sorry for that.

In case you didnt realise, I UNFORTUNATELY, don't own Harry Potter. All rights go to that woman who built my childhood. That wonderful woman. :)

Review it and tell me what you think. Please.