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Letters - In Memory of Michael Serpent

About Letters

Previous Entry Letters Jan. 30th, 2006 @ 01:30 pm Next Entry

Draco Malfoy sat at his desk, uncerimonously dropping into the red chair. He whispered a spell to turn his light on and pulled out a desk drawer. The drawer was crammed with neatly folded letters, each from the same sender, and each unresponded to.

He picked one up off of the stack. It read:


I never meant any of it. Please, I'll do whatever I can to make up to you. I was just mad. Okay? And a little scared. No, I was a LOT scared. You scared me. I scared me. What I felt, what I FEEL scared me. But I'm better, I'm not scared, I'm just sorry. Will you write me back?


Draco wiped at his eyes, as they had teared up. He chose another letter.


What can I do to make you happy? These letters, they'll stop, just say the word. Just send me a note. A blank piece of parchment, anything. For God's sake, Draco, send me bloody owl dung, just so I know you don't hate me completely, that you'll acknowledge my existence at least. I miss you. I miss talking to you and walking with you and just looking into your eyes without seeing hatred and coldness. Will you just tell me one thing? Do you think you could ever not hate me?


Why hadn't Draco responded? It's not like he had ever, could've ever hated Harry. Sure, they got in rows every now and then, but so did every other couple in the world. He was just so... There wasn't a word for it. Stubborn came close. At first, Harry wouldn't apoligise for going out with Ron for a day, so Draco gave him the cold shoulder. Then, Harry got the point, and sent him a letter. Draco ignored that as well. So Harry sent more letters, and Draco had dropped them in the Letter Drawer, as he had begun to think of it, without opening them. Draco shook his head free of the memories that threatened to overtake him and pulled out another letter.


Okay, I'm worried. You're not showing up for work, you don't answer my letters, and your mother says you don't respond to her at all, won't even let her in the house. You need to tell someone something or I'm going to do something about. Actually, come to think of it, you're probably not even going to read this. So why am I writing it? BECAUSE I LOVE YOU!!!!
Okay? Please, help yourself. Don't talk to me, right? I'm not worth it, you say. Well, talk to Hermione then! Or your mum!! Or that witch who sits and talks to the wall on the corner on Saturdays! Anyone, but please, don't do anyhting you'll regret. Alright?


Draco was now fully sobbing. Harry had come out and admitted his love for him, and what did he do? Stick the letter in a drawer with about twenty others. Sometimes Draco just hated himself. He picked up the letter from the floor he had recieved this morning.

I give up. You win. Whatever sick, twisted game you are playing, Draco, you win, okay? Just remember that I love, that I'll always and forever love you, no matter what. You can hate me and hurt me and call me names, throw darts at my picture, anything. I'll love you because I know who you used to be.


The letter was tear-stained and blotchy, but Draco could still read it. That's it, he thought. I'm not doing this anymore. He grabbed a small peice of parchment and a quill from his suitcase, which was sitting expectantly by the door, covered with dust. He plopped back down at his desk, inking up the quill and flatening out the parchment. He thought for a brief moment, stuck the quill tip in his mouth, then started to write:

Dearest, dear, lovely, amazing Harry,

I love you too. After all of it, everything I've put you through, you still love me, and that is why I love you. You are brave, loyal, and just generally a good person. Completely opposite of me. As they say, opposites attract, right?
I'm writing you this let you know that I can't do it anymore. Not our relationship, for that will continue as long as your heart beats, but life. It has become too hard for me to handle. I am tired, and I can't do it anymore.
Always know that I love you.


He put the quill down rolled up his letter. He clicked his tounge and his owl, Kenna, came to the desk obiediently, as though she knew she was delivering a very important letter. Draco tied the letter to her foot and told her, "This is for Harry, Kenna. He really, really needs to get this." Kenna nipped his finger lightly in response, and flew out the window. Draco sat as his desk again, but this time rolled to face the door. He lifted his wand to just above his right ear and said two words:

"Avada Kedavra."


A/N: I wrote this in memory of Michael. He is gone but will stay forever.
Current Mood: morosemorose
Current Music: Private Radio - Vanessa Carlton
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Date:July 20th, 2006 10:37 am (UTC)
Oh, wow... that is lovely. Heart wrenching, but lovely. It would have been easier to read had the letters been set apart somehow, possibly italicized, but the actual letters were so well written... I have to admit, I sympathize with Harry in this story; something somewhat similar has happened to me, but without the suicide at the end. God, that would have been awful.

I wish I had know Michael well enough to say I'm sure he'd have loved it. I love it.
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