Chapter Three

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Chapter Three: The Letter's Contents (II)

Harry reeled in shock.

Does that mean- Is the writer- What? Why? Confused at the sudden turn in events, Harry quickly continued reading on.

"Well I'm sure that must have shocked you, eh Potter? I, Draco Malfoy, your arch-enemy, is writing a farewell letter to you! Well before you throw my beautifully handwritten letter away, or Incendo it, why not just continue reading. It can't be as bad as all my insults, can it? You'll never know unless you try, Potter, and there's no harm in this. After all, I'm dead by the time you're reading this, remember? To be honest, its awfully amusing that I'm sitting comfortably in my Manor, with a great cup of tea in one hand, while writing about my death in the other.

Let's take this back to Hogwarts, shall we? Remember when we were first years, on that staircase? I arrogantly stuck my hand out to you, and told you that some wizarding families are better than others. Might have offended you there and then. Honestly, I hadn't meant for that to offend you, its just that I never exactly knew how to make friends. That was a pretty ugly scene, eh? From then on, you had to endure all the smirks, jeers, sneers, insults, hexes and jinxes that I threw your way. I apologise for my immature, childish behaviour. Really, I do. It was just that since you were in Gryffindor, always together with Granger and Weasley (the Golden Trio, you three were) and I in Slytherin, there was just no way I could get your attention.

I really don't know when this sick obsession of mine for you began, Potter. Perhaps when you turned down my friendship request? Or when you easily retrieved Longbottom's remembering ball thing? Whatever it was, I don't know. All I knew was that I needed you to notice me. Pay attention to me. Hate me. I never knew you were so daft, Potter. Was it not obvious that I had had such a huge obsession for you? Perhaps you should tuck those messy locks of yours behind your ears, maybe you would have been able to see past our animosity, my feelings of supposed hate. If you were any more observant, you might have noticed my constant stares at you during Potions and while in the Great Hall.

Of course, I conveniently turned my stares into glares, easy peasy. Have you never wondered how I was able to counter your looks every single time with those 'specialty' cold glares of mine? Merlin Potter, you must have been the densest wizard I have ever met. Your eyes captivated me, I would never have been able to look away if you returned my stares. Those deep emerald green eyes, looking like they could read my mind, kept me awake for many a night. It took me years to get past my self-denial and ponder, perhaps I really did have a thing for Harry Potter? I don't know, I still loathe my repulsive behaviour. But that again, is besides the point. Since this would be my final letter, I would just like to inform you Potter, I'm in love with you."

Harry gasped, running his hand through his hair again. He struggled to make sense of this increasingly absurd situation. Draco Malfoy was dead. He, Harry Potter, was reading a confession by a dead man. A dead man he absolutely hated, he hastily corrected himself. A tap on the window, and Harry rose to his feet to open the window, to let the owl deliver its newspaper to him. He took one look at the front page and nearly did a double take. Merlin, the letter was accurate.

Sprawled across the front page of The Daily Prophet was the headline news of Draco Malfoy's death.

-TBC-

A/N: There's still more to this!

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