dear draco,

two

When I was younger, I was the kind of person who would scorn all feeling. I never believed the hype that the world associates with first love - or love in general, really. I never understood the idea of loving another person so much that you value their happiness over your own, and make your decisions based on that. That you think of them with everything you do.

I am a different person now.

When we first met, I thought you were an idiot. I was fascinated by you, yes, but I hated you, because Gryffindors and Slytherins are obligated to hate each other. At only twelve years old, we were thrown into our own defining worlds – Gryffindors were told they were brave and chivalrous; Slytherins cunning and ambitious. You are twelve. These are your most valued traits. These will define you from now on. If it hadn't been for those houses, our story might not have started the way it did. I hated you, yes, but only because I was wired to do so.

-

F L A S H B A C K

~

When it snows, there is no better word to describe the world than 'white'. White represents purity and perfection, and that is what happens – all of the world's flaws disappear under a quilt of perfect white snow. The beauty of everything is suddenly amplified.

Although we had been warned to stay inside, the majority of the school's population could be found in the Hogwarts grounds, making the most of the icy weather by playing in the snow like children. I was with Harry, Ron and Hermione, all three of us unrecognizable in bundles of clothing. We were trying to make a snowman – Harry's first proper snowman – without any magic. Around us, people were running and laughing, and even using magic to conjure flurries of snow and mini ice castles. Snowballs whizzed past my ears, begging me to join the fun, but I had one sole mission: to find the perfect arms for our snowman.

Joined by Ron, I walked towards an opening in the trees, where some branches had fallen. Sunlight bounced against the powdery snow, making it seem fluorescent in its paleness. I wandered around the pretty scenery, in search of a suitably arm-like branch.

That is, until icy coldness sliced down my back.

I screeched in indignance, causing Ron to roar with laughter behind me. I started gathering snow to get him back, but he had already thrown me over his shoulder.

"See that pile of snow?" He spun me so I would look at it.

"I – Ron-"

"I'm going to throw you right in it. Sorry if you die."

"Okay, Ron, look-"

"Are you prepared – to be - a snow – angel-"

"Ron."

He sighed and let me down. "What?"

"There's someone watching us."

"There's-" Ron turned indignantly. "Where?"

"Up by the bridge," I pointed to the dark figure standing at the corner of the stone wall, facing our direction. The person turned hastily as I pointed.

Ron squinted dramatically. "No, sorry. I don't see anyone."

"You liar."

"Oh I'm a liar, am I?" he grinned, grabbing my arm so as to pull my attention away from the figure. "Were you not the one who gave me a face full of snow earlier, having said it would be a hug?"