Disclaimer: All the characters used in this story are the sole property of J.K Rowling (and some other big company whose name I do not remember. Sorry, no insults intended, just my bad memory). They are not mine. I take credit for the characters' actions and thoughts in this story, though (often used as they are).
Rating: M
Pairings: Harry/ Draco
Warnings: slash (homosexual relationship), bad language
A/N: This ficlet a
very short one. And I've got no idea from where the little poem came
from (well, the original is known to all as "Roses are red...
etc", but where I read the variation this ficlet grew out from,
I don't remember).
So here.
Feedback: Will be saved into a special folder on my harddrive and taken into consideration.
Roses are red
There
are many times when Draco has written to Harry over the years.
Letters, cards, notes… Harry used to think that keeping every
little piece of paper that carried Draco's words was a little
(actually a lot) girlish, but he did it anyway. Kept them in a drawer
under some clothes he didn't have the heart to throw away – first
sweater he got from Mrs. Weasley, Sirius' old shirt, Quidditch
robes from his time with the Cannons… Things like that. The same
drawer holds the first photo album Hagrid gave him. The album could
be in the living room shelves with all the other ones, but somehow
keeping it in the drawer feels … right.
Draco never comments on
it.
Harry treasures all the things Draco has given to him –
gifts, memories, cards… But what he loves best is taking out and
reread all the little notes Draco used to (and still does) send to
him during important meetings.
Harry has a favorite among those
notes. And he likes it best not only because it was the first time
Draco actually said – well, wrote – it…
Harry takes
this note out now. The writing is a little faded from time and
smudged from reading, but it makes Harry smile every time. The note
is pure Draco.
Roses are red
Violets are blue
You
give a good head
And I love you