DISCONTINUED--Letters I Can't Send (draco x reader)

24

Y/n's POV

I'm getting déjà vu.

Standing in the middle of a bustling Kings Cross Station, on platform 9¾.

But this time, I'm with Quinn, who got her dark hair cut in shoulder length bob.

I'm much happier than I was this time last year, and I have a friend.

We haul our luggage onto the train, and Quinn says her goodbyes to her family.

As soon as we find an empty compartment, I pull out my notebook, and Quinn knows what I'm doing, knows not the bother me.

I get as comfortable as I can on the seat, stretching my legs out in front of me. I open my notebook and start writing.

Dear mum,

Last time I wrote to you was probably a few weeks ago, but so much has happened in the past few weeks. The Quidditch World Cup was so much fun—until the death eaters attacked and I broke my wand. So, I had to get a new one and, let's just say, I have more than one broken wand in my history.

But I'm starting my 4th year at Hogwarts (really my second), but, Merlin, I've been hearing some rumors about this coming year, and whatever is going on, this year will be quite eventful.

I will have so much more to tell you, but it'll have to wait.

Miss you, love you,

Y/n

Just as I finish up the letter, I hear hushed arguing and a group of people walking down the isle of the train outside of our compartment.

Quinn and I watch in confusion as the door of our compartment slides open and I see three figures. One girl with honey brown and wildly curly hair, a boy with red hair, looking at the girl in... fear? And another boy with dark brown, almost black hair—and the lightning bolt-shaped scar hiding on his forehead. Harry Potter.

"Er—all the compartments are full—" Harry says, looking quite embarrassed, though, I'm not sure why.

"Oh! We have plenty of room—don't we Quinn." I say and shoot Quinn a look, as she grumbles to herself before perking up and plastering on a fake smile.

"Yep, lots of room," she agrees.

I hear the redhead whisper to the Potter boy, "Harry—they're in Slytherin—you know what they say about Slytherins!" which makes my blood boil. I want to take back what I've said, about having room, but it's too late.

Though, the curly-haired girl slaps the redhead's arm, hard, and hisses out, "Do you ever shut up about that, Ron? You overcritical airhead." she pushes past the two boys and smiles and Quinn and I. "I'm Hermione Granger." she holds out a hand for me to shake.

"Y/n Ellis," I say, shaking her hand, shocked at her quick thinking for the redhead's insult.

Hermione turns to Quinn and they have a similar exchange.

The boys don't bother to introduce themselves, but luckily Hermione does it for them.

"The overcritical airhead is Ron Weasley and, well, you must already know, that's Harry Potter." she says and takes the seat next to Quinn, Ron sits next to her.

Harry hesitantly sits beside me and eyes the open notebook in my lap. I shut it quickly, not wanting any prying eyes in that notebook.

I can feel Potter's—I've learned that it's respectful to call people I don't know too well by their last names, instead of their first—eyes on me, but I stare absentmindedly out of the train window. The soft patter of rain against the roof and window is so relaxing, so peaceful. And despite the things that have happened recently, I haven't felt this much at ease in a while.