Bound by Love

Chapter 3: Breaking Down the Walls

Harriet's POV

The next few days passed in a blur of chores, Dudley's obnoxious antics, and my ever-present sense of frustration at being stuck in this house. I'd been waiting for Draco's response, though I told myself I wasn't. After all, this was Draco Malfoy. But there was something about these letters that made the summer seem... lighter, less suffocating.

When Hedwig finally returned, I felt an odd flutter of anticipation. It wasn't as if I expected anything groundbreaking—Malfoy wasn't the type to pour his heart out, but still, the fact that he had continued writing made me feel strangely less alone.

I untied the letter from Hedwig's leg, unfolding it as I sat cross-legged on my bed, my hair cascading over my shoulders in a tangled mess. The familiar slanted handwriting greeted me once again.

Potter,

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

I read on, surprised by his honesty. Malfoy was hinting at something deeper, something beyond the usual Malfoy arrogance. His family, the silence in the manor, his mother trying to hold things together—it all felt strangely familiar. The weight of responsibility. The quiet that wasn't peaceful but stifling.

Maybe I don't fit into this world as easily as I thought.

That line stayed with me long after I had finished reading the letter. For someone like Malfoy, who had always seemed so sure of his place in the world, those words carried a certain vulnerability. I leaned back, staring at the ceiling, wondering what exactly he meant by it. Was he talking about his family's expectations? The pressure of being a Malfoy?

Before I knew it, my quill was in my hand, and I was writing again.

Malfoy,

I didn't expect you to be so honest. But I guess if you're reaching out to me of all people, it's because you don't have anyone else to talk to. You're not alone in feeling like you don't fit in. I've been feeling that way for years. Even now, living with the Dursleys, it's like I'm just... here. A guest in someone else's life.

I paused, wondering if I was revealing too much. But then again, this was Malfoy. It wasn't like I had much to lose.

You said your mother's trying to hold things together. I don't know her, but from what I've seen, she seems strong. That can't be easy for her, though. As for your father... I'm not going to pretend I understand what it's like living with someone like him. But I do understand pressure. I understand the weight of expectations.

I set the quill down for a moment, running my fingers through my hair as I considered my next words.

You said you don't fit into your world as easily as you thought. What world is that, exactly?

I hesitated, then added one last line.

Maybe we're not so different, after all.

With a flick of my wand, the letter was sealed, and I handed it to Hedwig. She gave me a curious look before flying off into the night. I watched her disappear into the sky, feeling a strange sense of calm settle over me.

Draco's POV

Potter's letters had become something of a constant over the past few days. It was odd, how quickly our correspondence had picked up pace. Each time her owl arrived, it brought a sense of anticipation—though I'd never admit that to anyone.

When her latest letter arrived, I found myself genuinely curious about what she'd said. Potter had a way of cutting through pretenses, of being blunt in a way that was strangely refreshing. I unfolded the parchment, her handwriting still as neat and precise as ever.

I didn't expect you to be so honest.

I smirked slightly. Honesty wasn't exactly my strongest trait, but something about these letters made it easier to tell the truth. Maybe it was the distance—there was no one here to see, no one to judge.

As I read on, though, something in her words struck me. You're not alone in feeling like you don't fit in. She understood. More than I thought she would. Living with those Muggles, being treated like an outsider even in her own home... maybe we really weren't so different.

When she asked about my world, I felt the familiar knot tighten in my chest. What world did I fit into? The world of pure-blood privilege? The world of my father's expectations? None of it seemed as solid as it once had.

I picked up my quill and began to write.

Potter,

You have a habit of asking difficult questions. What world do I fit into? That's the problem, isn't it? I've spent my whole life being told what's expected of me, how a Malfoy should act, what a Malfoy should want. But this summer... everything feels different. Maybe it's just the quiet, or maybe it's the fact that I've had too much time to think. But the world I grew up in doesn't feel right anymore.

I paused, wondering how much more I should say. But something in Potter's words made me want to keep going.

You're right about my mother. She's strong, stronger than most people give her credit for. She's the only reason things haven't fallen apart here. As for my father... well, that's a conversation for another time.

I leaned back, running a hand through my hair. It felt lighter to admit these things, even if it was only on parchment.

You said you feel like a guest in someone else's life. Maybe that's the real reason I wrote to you. I thought it was boredom at first, but maybe it's because you understand what it's like to carry the weight of other people's expectations.

I sealed the letter, attaching it to my owl. As the bird flew off, I leaned back in my chair, staring out at the darkening sky. This was turning into something more than just letters between two former rivals. There was something deeper here, something I wasn't sure I was ready to face yet.