Disclaimer: I don't own Harry or Draco or...well, anything except the clever imagination that gave life to this story. No sue. I'm poor.

Summary: A strange package is delivered to Harry one morning. No note or explanation for what he found inside. Letters. Full of love and hate and lust and sorrow and outrage. Letters that he was never meant to see.

Green Eyes

Chapter Zero: Dear Green Eyes

Written on the second of April, 2005

Harry Potter had just settled down for breakfast in his small, but warm and home-y, flat. He had coffee and biscuits and cheetos, his usual Saturday-morning breakfast. And then an owl swooped in his window. He left the window open for just such a visitor. His friends owled him often, more so than when they'd been in school. But this was an owl he'd never seen before. It had rust-colored feathers and eyes that snapped with a fiery spirit. The owl swooped in and dropped a package on his kitchen table. It then swooped back out and disappeared before Harry could even properly register what had happened. Only the impression of it's coloring and eyes. He, of course, opened the package with no small amount of curiosity. There was no note on the outside. But as he opened it, letters spilled out. What looked like a hundred letters written in black ink across bits of parchment spilled out of the box. He picked up the top-most letter and began to read...

Dear Green Eyes,

Creative nickname, isn't it? Green eyes. You're eyes aren't even green. They're emerald. There's a difference, though I'm sure you're too daft to know it. Green is the color of crayons and such. Emerald is the only word that can adequately describe the faceted hue of your eyes. Didn't know I was poetic, did you? I'm not. And yet, here I am spewing these ridiculous words out on a piece of parchment. Care to explain? You see... I've figured it out. It's your fault, something you've done. There's no other explanation for it.

You see, life is logical. I am a Slytherin. You are a Gryffindor. You are the Gryffindor. Golden Boy of the wizarding world. I am the Prince of Slytherin, Death Eater in the making. There is, and always has been, a logical chemistry between us. It's the sort of chemistry that causes explosions, quite like putting pixie salt in a calming drought (1). Bang! Just like that. We fight like dogs. That's the way it's supposed to work. It's logic.

But you have defied my logic. And this is utterly unacceptable. Your blatant disregard for the logical workings of our lives has caused an acute imbalance in the workings of the world. I won't stand for it. What have you done to disrupt the logical way of life? I thought you'd never ask.

First of all, you're beautiful. This is illogical on two counts. You are male, and males cannot be beautiful because it is a term used to describe females. Also, you are my rival and arch enemy. My enemies are most certainly not allowed to be beautiful, regardless of gender. It is simply unheard of. I'll not count the fact that you are a Gryffindor, as I suppose even the Gryffindorks are permitted a pretty person or two. But nonetheless, you have broken the rules by being beautiful.

Secondly, you're adorable when you're angry. You're not supposed to be adorable at all. It isn't allowed. When you get angry, you are supposed to be hideous and nonsensical so that I can mock you for it at a later time. But you, being the ponce that you are, seem to believe it is alright to pout and such when you get angry. Pouting is against the rules, as it is cute. You also blush adorably with rage. This, again, is against the rules.

Third, you're sad. I hate that. You're not allowed to be sad. You're the perfect, wonderful Gryffindor and you always win. Even when you lose, you win! Which, might I add, is the fourth illogical thing on my list. You resonate a deep, passionate sorrow. A kind of quiet, aching loneliness that screams louder than any voice could hope to. See, look what you've done! I'm contradicting myself!

The fourth thing. Even when you are beaten, you win. Even when I have managed to best you at something, it is ruined because you still manage to steal away the glory and attentions. Even when the entirety of the wizarding world is against you, you are strong and beautiful.

Good god, just look at this rot. I've wasted precious time and parchment scribbling nonsense to the Boy-Who-Wouldn't-Die.

And I'm not even going to send it to you...what a waste.

I'll never be yours,

Draconis Lucius Malfoy

A/n: Alrighty...well, I just wanted to give it a shot. I can leave this as a one-shot, I suppose...or, if you like, I can continue with the letters. Pretty please read and review, I'll accept flames though I can't promise that I won't toast you with them. If I get five reviews, I'll keep going for sure. I suppose I could deal with one though, teehee...

(1) "...like putting pixie salt in a calming drought"- Initially I was going to compare it to putting sodium nitrate in water. But that's muggle chemistry, and I thought it might be odd for Draco to not only know about that sort of thing, but to use it in a letter to Harry...

Also... I didn't get a chance to spell check this or anything, because I was on a crap computer at the time. But I'll edit and repost it when I get home.

Monday the twenty-third of May: Haha! I have edited and reposted just as I said! Also, after a lovely review from a reader, I will be updating. As we speak, I am contemplating the next chapter. Sorry for the non-updating-ness.