Title: Poetry For The One I Loved
Rating: T for right now.
Summery: Draco has received a book of poems from who? He has no clue! Apparently they have loved him since they laid eyes on his beautiful blonde hair and his eyes that are full of despise. But who is it! He thinks he'll know by the end of the book. If not then when? POST HBP, SPOILERS!
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and crew, the lovely J.K. Rowling does. All of the people and places are copyrighted to her, I just own the poetry and the idea in this story.
Note: Okay, inspiration hit me. So sorry. I know yall are tired of me not updating LS, but if it makes you feel any better I wrote Chapter 8 the other day while I was bored in second hour at school, all I have to do is type it up, so Read and Review!
Draco walked over to the window on the fare side of his room. A room he now locked himself into. He opened the window to let a large barn owl in. It dropped the package it was carrying on his desk and flew back out. Draco locked the window after it and walked over to the desk. He just stared at the package for a moment and then lifted it off the desk. It was addressed to a Mr. Draco Malfoy and it didn't say who it was from. He ripped the paper from it to reveal a leather bound book, about the size of a textbook. He opened the cover and on the first page it said, in block letters:
Ever since I saw you I wanted you,
But you I could never have.
My feelings for you were true,
But you I will never have.
Since I first laid eyes,
On your beautiful blonde hair,
And the look in your pupils of despise,
I wanted you to be mine.
Since I saw you first,
I wrote about you when ever the inspiration occurred.
I wrote with such a thirst,
I didn't recognize that these were my words.
Go and read your poems now,
Of my love for you.
And know that they are just so foul,
I hand to get rid of them from my site.
So now in your possession,
Is my attempt,
To make this pain lesson.
By sending them to you.
With Love,
Your Secret Lover
Draco frowned 'Who would right about me? I mean I'm dead sexy but why right about it?' He thought to himself. He carried the book over to his bed and laid down to read this new … monstrosity. He thought maybe he would enjoy it. I mean, its about him, why not? He read the first poem again and turned the page.