Bound by Love

Chapter 2: Unraveling Secrets

Harriet's POV

The days at Privet Drive dragged on as they always did, each one indistinguishable from the last. I kept myself busy with mundane tasks—reading, helping around the house, and avoiding Dudley's annoying attempts at showing off his new "muscles." But my thoughts kept wandering back to that letter. Draco Malfoy had written to me. And worse, I had written back.

I found myself wondering if he'd reply again. Not that I was eagerly waiting for a letter from Draco Malfoy, but... curiosity gnawed at me. Why had he reached out? What was his angle? Surely it wasn't simple boredom. Or maybe it was. Either way, I couldn't deny that I felt a strange pull to his words—something in the way he described the silence at the manor had resonated with me.

It wasn't long before Hedwig returned, a letter tied neatly to her leg. I blinked, startled by the speed of his response. Malfoy wasn't one to waste time, apparently.

I untied the parchment and opened it, already preparing myself for whatever he might have to say. His familiar handwriting filled the page again, sharp and precise.

Potter,

I suppose I should have expected a reply like that from you. Blunt, as always. But you're not wrong. My boredom does look a lot different from yours, I imagine. The Dursleys—charming? I can't quite picture it, though I assume you were being sarcastic.

I smiled despite myself. Even through the formalities, his dry wit came through.

You're right. I do understand more than you think. This summer has given me... too much time to think, and perhaps that's why I reached out. I've grown tired of pretending that everything is fine here when it's not. But I don't suppose you care much about that.

There was a pause in his letter. His words seemed heavier than I expected. What was going on at the manor?

As for Hogwarts, I don't miss it either, but I do miss certain things. The structure, perhaps. Or maybe just the distraction from the real world. Either way, I doubt either of us is eager to return to the chaos. I wonder how different next year will be.

I leaned back, running my fingers through my hair as I considered his words. There was something... honest about them. Malfoy, honest? The thought made me chuckle. But still, there it was, laid out on the parchment for me to see.

I grabbed my quill, unsure how to respond but feeling compelled to. This strange exchange had already gone further than I expected, and yet I didn't want it to stop.

Malfoy,

Sarcastic? Me? I'm sure you've never experienced that before. I smirked as I wrote, imagining him rolling his eyes.

You're right about one thing, though. This summer has been... unbearable. The Dursleys haven't changed, and I don't expect them to. But it's not just them. It's the weight of everything, really. Everything that's happened, everything that's coming. I try not to think about it, but it's hard not to.

I paused, tapping the quill against my chin. It was strange, how easy it was to admit these things to him. Easier than with anyone else. Maybe because we had always been so distant, and now, somehow, the distance made it easier to be honest.

You said something in your letter, about not pretending that everything's fine. What did you mean by that?

I wasn't sure if he would answer that, but I couldn't help asking. His words had struck me—an unusual vulnerability in them. I sealed the letter and sent it off with Hedwig, watching her fly into the dusk.

Draco's POV

Potter's letter arrived faster than I expected. I wasn't sure what I had been hoping for, but her words... they weren't what I imagined. It was strange, how easily she admitted her struggles with the Dursleys, how openly she spoke about the weight of everything. In a way, it made me uncomfortable. But at the same time, I found myself wanting to know more.

I unfolded her letter, my fingers brushing the edges of the parchment as I read.

You said something in your letter, about not pretending that everything's fine. What did you mean by that?

I hadn't meant to reveal so much. But she had caught on, of course. Potter was always perceptive, and it was one of the things that made her so... frustrating.

I sat at my desk, staring at the blank page in front of me. How could I explain the suffocating pressure that had been building all summer? The weight of my family's name, the expectations, the endless silence of the manor that seemed to close in on me every day.

Taking a deep breath, I picked up my quill.

Potter,

You're as direct as ever. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised.

I paused, wondering how much I should share. But there was something about this—this strange connection between us—that made me want to be honest.

What I meant was... things aren't exactly perfect here. The manor is quieter than usual, and that's saying something. My father, well, you know how he is. Locked in his study most of the time. Mother's trying to keep things together, but I can see how it's wearing on her. As for me... I'm starting to realize that maybe I don't fit into this world as easily as I thought.

I ran my hand through my hair, letting out a breath I didn't realize I had been holding. Writing these things down made them feel more real.

Anyway, enough of that. You asked about next year. I have a feeling it'll be different, though I'm not sure how yet. Everything feels like it's on the edge of something—like the calm before a storm. But I imagine we'll manage, as we always do.

I sealed the letter, handing it to my owl before I could rethink the entire thing. As the bird flew off into the night, I leaned back in my chair, feeling a strange mix of relief and unease.

Potter was right about one thing. There was a weight to everything, something pressing down on both of us. Maybe that was why this odd exchange felt... necessary. At least we weren't dealing with it alone.