This story in its true form employs heavy use of strikethrough, which FF.N prohibits for whatever reason. If you'd like to see how it should look, the original is linked in my profile; otherwise, read Harry's draft as if everything but the bold text is crossed out.

Dear Professor Snape,

Harry leaned back, staring at the parchment on Ron's desk before him. No matter how he glared, it remained empty, mocking him. He crossed out Professor; after all, Snape hadn't been his teacher for more than a year. The dear went next — Snape was well aware that Harry found him anything but dear, and pretending otherwise seemed irreverent to the dead. Then Harry realized the entire letter so far consisted of Snape and rewrote the Professor.

Professor Snape,

He was about to resume the staring contest when a bushy head appeared in the doorway. "Harry?"

"Yeah?" Once more Harry leaned back in his chair, and it wobbled dangerously close to tipping over. Hermione stepped tentatively into the room, worriedly watching Harry, whose eyebrows were knitted in frustration as he raked a hand through already messy hair distractedly.

"Harry, you've been at this for hours." She sounded hesitant, almost pitying. Her voice gained strength when she went on, "He won't see it, you know."

"I know, Hermione. It's just something I have to do; you don't understand." Harry knew he sounded much younger than an eighteen-year-old, but it was true.

"Yes, I suppose I don't. Well, Mrs. Weasley says dinner will be ready soon."

"All right." He heard her footsteps heading back downstairs and returned his focus to the woefully empty sheet of parchment.

Twenty minutes later, after repeated entreaties from Hermione, Ginny and finally Mrs. Weasley, Harry reluctantly left the letter behind to eat.

Dear Professor Professor Snape,

Thanks for saving my neck me. Sorry I was a bit of a git at school though you weren't exactly friendly yourself. I apologize for my dad too. Sirius said you were both He was an arse to you.

But thank you for protecting me. I'm sure my mum forgives you. Wherever you are, I hope you're friends with my mum again. Tell her hello from me.

Yours Truly Sincerely Regards
Harry Potter

Harry spent dinner deep in thought, paying no attention to the food he was shoving into his mouth. Beside him George was just as withdrawn, though his fork was stopped halfway to his mouth, and, though neither was aware of the other, he and Harry were both staring out of the tiny kitchen window.

Spurning Mrs. Weasley's attempts to refill his plate ("Really, Harry dear, you need to put on a bit of weight, you're as thin as Ginny!"), Harry sprinted upstairs, sweeping the heavily marked sheaf of parchment from the desk and grabbing a new one.

A minute later Harry heaved a sigh, pushed the chair back and walked back downstairs to join his friends, though this time he was smiling. A shaft of sunlight filtered through the window onto the letter, still lying on Ron's desk.

Thank you.

Harry