It all began with the Letter (Drarry)

Chapter One

Chapter One: Prologue

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The war was finally over.

Of course, war in itself is never over. Families were broken, lives were lost- one can never say that war has ever been finished. To say the least, the fighting part of war was over, but it is only in finished battles that healing begins, a journey that can only be described as a long and painful one.

Harry Potter had won, to no one's surprise (except perhaps, Voldemort), and everyone soon began the long and arduous process of rebuilding and recovering what was lost. Indeed, some things could never be recovered (Harry thought back to the moment he returned to the Great Hall and saw all the bodies lined up, realising for the first time that it had lost the magical feeling he used to get whenever he entered it, just minutes after they claimed victory) but others could be mended. Peace was far from being achieved; the number of trials the Ministry would hold regarding the Deatheaters in the months that followed certainly proved the point.

The Malfoys had been spared the stay in Azkaban (following Harry's intervention during their trials) although they were fined heavily and put in the top priority Ministry watchlist, but the old money they had was apparently much more than anyone could fathom and they continued to lead rich extravagant lives. Not so much could be said about public opinion regarding the Malfoy family though. Public sentiment towards Deatheaters, even those cleared of charges, were, to say the least, less than pretty.

Harry Potter had always known things would never go the way he had planned, or imagined. Although things had always felt right with Ginny Weasley, 'She was the One!', he finally realised that it wouldn't work out between the two of them. The joy he used to feel as he watched her eyes light up and sparkle when talking about certain issues had dimmed, and he no longer felt the same passion towards her after the war. After many nights of wild drinking and waking up in his own vomit, he finally decided he could drag it on no more.

Breaking up with Ginny had to be one of the hardest things he had ever done.

He felt guilty, watching her eyes well up with tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks as she took the information head on, the brave Gryffindor that she was, but he wasn't feeling guilty because she was heartbroken or that it had to end, but because he felt a huge sense of relief once their relationship was finally over. People don't normally feel this way when their relationships are over, he mentally chided himself.

It wasn't long before a job offer from the Ministry arrived on his doorstep, promising him a high-ranking Auror position, but not wanting to arrive at such a position simply due to his name and the scar on his forehead, Harry declined, choosing to work his way up the Auror ranks himself.

Things had been rather ordinary and smooth sailing, as far as mundane days go, and Harry had assumed that it would always remain that way. Who's to say that things wasn't about to go the way he thought they would, again?

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Harry Potter was irritated. As much as he loved his job as an Auror; the action, the satisfaction of catching evil-doers (the list goes on), he hated the long reports that his boss expected him to conjure into his office after he had dealt with all sorts of situations, more often exhausting ones than not. This often meant that Harry had to work into the wee hours of the morning, and upon completion and submission of the reports, would then allow himself to collapse onto his bed and take the much needed rest. So tonight was no different, or so he thought.

Waves of irritation washed over Harry. He glared at the pieces of parchment splashed on the mahogany desk in front of him as scathingly as he could, willing them to write themselves, then disappear. They didn't, to no one's surprise. He suppressed an urge to roll his eyes and finally started to work on them. He had reports to complete, and deadlines to meet.

'Now how am I going to begin this report?' he thought in exasperation, inches close to ripping his hair out, 'Do I just write about how this seemingly harmless elderly lady, became so irked by her husband of 99 years, that she decided to hex his facecloth to wrap around his genitalia that it was inevitably rendered useless?? One can't just go about writing these things!'

Harry groaned inwardly, running a tanned, muscular hand through his thick, messy hair, a habit he seemed to have picked up from his days at Hogwarts. While worrying about Voldemort, he had acquired this quirk that always surfaced whenever he was troubled. Or sneered at by Draco Malfoy. Harry subconsciously let out a growl as his thoughts wandered towards Malfoy, the blonde who had always made his life absolutely terrible in Hogwarts. Malfoy, that poncy git, who had taken the trouble to sneer and jeer at Harry's every word, action and movement. Granted, Malfoy might have been the hottest guy in Hogwarts (Harry shuddered at the thought) but even that didn't give him the right to make Harry's life almost totally unbearable.

With all that being said, or thought, rather, Harry had not seen or heard about the Malfoys since the trials, where the Malfoy family was last seen slinking away after their loyalties to the fallen Dark Lord were broken and he had spoken in their defence.

'They do know how to keep a low profile' Harry mused out loud to the empty room, 'Seeing that they have escaped from the sneaky and unscrupulous eyes of Rita Skeeter for so many years now. I wonder how has life treated them so far...'

Harry clicked his tongue in annoyance. The thought of Draco Malfoy irked him, as it always did. He was glad to know that some things never changed. He rose abruptly from the chair he was seated on and sauntered out of his room towards the kitchen counter to pour himself a cup of coffee. He would have to burn the midnight oil today, he silently noted, as he gulped the warm coffee down, cringing at the drink's sharp bitterness.

Seconds after he finished the coffee, Harry heard a loud thump come from behind him. His quick Auror reflexes did not fail him as he spun around, wand outstretched at the cloud of soot emerging from the fireplace, along with the creature that had come down the chimney and was scuttling out of the cloud of soot. Harry's eyes widened and he chuckled as he watched a small, soot-covered owl struggle to its feet, holding a rather intriguing now darkened letter in its talons, marveling at the care which it took while holding the package, since owls were known for their sharp talons. The owl gave an indignant screech as it shook itself as clean as it could get and glided over towards Harry, dropping its package into Harry's outstretched hands. Thanking the owl absentmindedly, he conjured a few mice as an apology for his filthy chimney, and hurried back to his desk to open this mysterious letter.