The rain beats hard against the windows overlooking an ever-darkening sky. Harry and Ron sit in a corner of the common room, finishing Snape's long overdue Potions essay. Hermione sits nearby, reading a thick book.
"Does anybody really care about the defining properties of bezoars?" Ron mutters. When Hermione opens her mouth to answer, he adds, "Apart from Hermione that is?"
"Ron," Harry says, writing a title and underlining it. "What have you got so far?"
Ron looks down at his page with a look of mock concentration on his face.
"Oh, let's see. I've got a heading – The defining properties of bezoars – and my name – Ronald Weasley – and that's about it."
Harry grins, "I haven't even written my name yet."
And there is a series of taps coming from the window, as if someone is knocking. Harry leans over to unlatch the window. It swings open, letting the rain fall onto the carpet, and a brown eagle owl hops onto the windowsill.
Harry unties the thick scroll of parchment tied to its leg while the owl looks around the room, its amber eyes flashing, and it flies into the stormy night without waiting for an answer. Hermione sets her book down and slams the window shut after the owl.
"What's that, Harry?" she asks.
"Dunno," Harry says, and unrolls the parchment. He begins to read, a smile forming on his face as he gets to the first few sentences. Hermione watches him reading, while Ron struggles on with the essay.
Harry keeps reading, his smile steadily becoming larger as he continues. Hermione's hands twitch and Ron can tell that she's just aching to know what's in the letter, but she won't ask.
Harry comes to the end of the letter. Suddenly, the smile disappears and a look of alarm appears in its place, as if he's just realized something dreadfully important.
"I – uh –" he says, throwing the letter onto his unfinished essay. "I have to go."
"What –?" Hermione begins, but Harry has already impatiently swept his Potions books off the desk and pulled his Invisibility Cloak from under his Charms work.
Leaving his bag on the floor and his essay on the desk, he throws the Cloak over himself and Ron and Hermione watch the portrait open and slam closed, seemingly of its own accord.
"So, um," Hermione says. "D'you… Should we read it?"
"Yeah, sure, why not," Ron says flippantly, and throws down his quill. He reaches over, plucks the letter off Harry's essay and begins to read aloud.
"'Dear Harry,
"'I know that it is a stupid mistake for me to be writing this letter. It's a stupid mistake for me to be even thinking about writing this letter. I should probably throw it into the fire, like the nineteen other worthless attempts. But I know that if I don't do this now, I never will.'" Ron looks up. "It's a love letter."
"Ron," Hermione says, a frown creasing her brow. "Maybe we shouldn't –"
"Spoilsport," Ron grins, and continues reading aloud. "'The truth is, I've loved you since the first day I met you. No, before that, even – I think I've loved you since the first time I ever heard your name. It was, of course, in reference to Voldemort, but I was hooked from the very first second.' Hey, do you think Ginny wrote this?"
"Maybe," Hermione says, now beginning to grow pale. "Harry would get terribly angry if he knew we were reading this, Ron."
"Good thing he doesn't know, then," Ron says, and turns back to the letter. "'I only wish that things had been different from the start. But it is too late for 'if only' now.'"
Hermione pales even more. "Ron…?"
"'I stayed away from you because of my father. It was not my choice. I had to act the way I acted because of his strict expectations', la de la. I'll skip to the interesting part."
Hermione began to look sick again. "Oh, no... I think I know who wrote –"
"'Thank Merlin for changes of heart. After last night, Harry… I don't know if I'll be able to do what I have to do. Gazing down upon your sleeping face this morning, I knew that I had to do it to save us both. Guess I should've been a Gryffindor, after all.'"
Ron looks stunned, comprehension dawning on his face. "Hang about – last night!? He told me he was going for a walk last night! And really he's been meeting up with –" here he makes violently exaggerated air quotes "– with someone who's not a Gryffindor! I should've known! Nobody paces about for twenty minutes deciding whether to go for a walk!"
"RON!" Hermione shouts.
"Okay, at least we know it's not pug-face Parkinson," Ron interrupts, hastily reading ahead. "And I quote, 'Potter, you have no idea how much I want you… you make me hard. You were never just some casual shag to me.' So, unless we're learning new things about Loony Lovegood's anatomy, I'd say Harry's got a lover boy."
"Ron," Hermione starts loudly, sounding vaguely panicked. "For once in your life, will you just shut your face and listen to me!? It's –"
"Oh, don't spoil it!" Ron cries. "Here we go, a dramatic ending: 'But I'm afraid I'm going to have to leave you forever. I can't stand this any longer. My father will kill us both if he finds out about us. I'll always love you, but we can never be.' Well, now we know why Harry went rushing off. He's trying to stop this guy running away, that little hero."
Ron continues to read, and then there is a loud clunk as he falls off his chair in a dead faint. Hermione rushes over to him and plucks away the letter dangling loosely from his fingers. She reads it, every word in the conclusion confirming her deepest fear.
'Won't be seeing you,
Yours,
Draco Malfoy x'
oneoneoneoneone
Harry runs down the stairs to the Entrance Hall. A slim figure with white-blonde hair stands in the huge doorway with a pair of trunks and an eagle owl on his shoulder.
"Draco," Harry gasps, throwing off the Cloak and wrapping his arms around the Slytherin. The bird hoots indignantly and flutters to sit on a trunk.
"Harry…" Draco says, panting for air. "Didn't you get my letter?"
"I got your letter," Harry says fiercely, kissing him hard on the lips. "That's why I came."