Thank you to,

CinziaTwut - my first reviewer
SaruDM,
MaronTodai,
Laura T,
echizenochi,
ChelseyJ,

For reviewing!

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CHAPTER 2.

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Her hands were shaking while she opened the next letter.

She never knew what to expect from Draco's letters.

When Harry or Ginny wrote, they would plead her to come back, swear by their love and generally relay the news about things going on in England.

But Draco's letters could be as moody as him.

Sometimes he was sweet, telling her about what he was up to, the places he visited, the countries he played against, his frustration at losing a game or inability to catch the snitch, rare as it was.

Sometimes he was short, just writing to make a show of sending her a letter. Once, in an act of absolute frustration, he had also sent Hermione an empty letter, just like she did.

Sometimes he would plead. Just like Ginny. Pleading her to tell him something. Anything. Where she had disappeared to? How she was doing? If she still wanted to hear from him?

Since he never received any answers, he assumed that she was, indeed reading his letters. So he continued to write. So what if she didn't want to tell him anything? He wanted to tell her everything. He always did. Even when his letters were short due to anger, he made up by sending multiple letters a week. So that she wouldn't miss anything that was happening in his life.

It had been more than a year since he had heard from her. And at least 3 years since he had met her.

The only connection he had with her were the empty pieces of parchments she sent. And he had tried every charm possible on it. Hoping to reveal anything that could be hidden in it. Maybe she had written but just didn't want him to read. Maybe she was teasing him as usual and urging him to use his brain like she always did. But nothing revealed. They just stood there, bare, naked, exposed. Like how he felt.

He had saved every such letter sent by her. They were nothing, he knew. But he could never get himself to dispose them.

Most times, however the letter went, it would always end with the same note. Pleading her to tell him where she was. Just so he knew.

Sighing again, she started reading as usual.

Hermione,
it's been long since someone called me a Death eater spawn.
Actually, ages.
It doesn't surprise me, no.
It doesn't hurt either.
Neither does it enrage me.
I know you'll be surprised to hear that I feel none of the emotions that I usually would in such a scenario.
It's a sign that I've matured. No?
I think so.
Do you think that as a prize for my newfound maturity, you could perhaps tell me where you are?
Please?
You're not going to, are you?
I can almost imagine you rolling your eyes and thinking that the fact I asked for a prize shows that I'm not mature enough yet.
Anyway, so I was pondering over why I didn't get angry or smack him in the jaw.
I realised that what he said was true.
My father was a death eater, wasn't he? And me his spawn.
So there you go..
It was the truth.
No question of getting angry over something true.
But the tone he used was surely insulting.
I may have experienced some irritation at that.
Just because my father was death eater, it doesn't mean I was too.
I am not my father.
But these people will never learn that.
So I do what you have been telling me since years, ignore them.
And I must admit, it helps.
Okay, you must immediately burn this letter after you're done with it since I will not have proof lying around that shows I agreed with Hermione Granger and actually heeded her advice.
That would be a disgrace!
Malfoy's don't listen to other people!
Anyway, on a better note, we won the last game of this season.
I'm sure you don't follow Quidditch wherever you are.
You never liked the game anyway.
But it's in me to brag that I was deemed player of the season, again.
And soon we will be touring a few more countries, recruiting new talent and having a few friendly matches.
So nothing exceedingly exciting but I think I need the break.
I'm sure you could do with a break too.
I bet you barely go home.
You must be on a perpetual 24 hour shift at the hospital.
This is assuming that my guesses of you still being in the healing profession are correct.
I'm sure that you would never, ever give up on that. However broken you may be.
I may not know where you are Hermione, but I do know that you're still hurting.
And let me make it abundantly clear that you're hurting me as well.
But it's ok.
We never asked anything of each other in the past and I'm not beginning to ask. Ever.
But Potter really misses you.
He's only a shadow of the man he was.
Even if I do say so myself.
(Now you HAVE to burn this letter. It's getting incriminating enough, what with me feeling bad for Potter)
Between us, we held no expectations in life.
But you left a life behind. A life that you were a part of. A life that was a part of many other lives.
They surely still hold expectations from you.
And the disgusting Gryffindor that you are, I don't know how long you'll be able to hide.
I know that the Weasel left you, but Merlin, he had no choice.
You've left everyone even though you had a choice.
Don't tell me where you are if you don't want to.
But please. Get back with your friends. With your... Family.
You need to. You need them. They need you.
My ancestors will be rolling in agony in their graves.
Draco Malfoy getting so sappy for a muggle-born.
Hell, Draco Malfoy getting sappy, period.
Just think about it.
If I've not convinced you yet, wait for my other letters.
You know I'll be waiting for yours.
Even if it doesn't have anything in it.

Love,
Draco.

Ps: burn it NOW!

Hermione was crying again. But this time they were laughter tears.

She doubted that Draco even knew how funny his letter sounded when someone else read it, but she could not help laughing.

It was uncanny how her mood always got better, she always cheered up after hearing from him.

If she was having a bad day,it would not seem so bad all of a sudden. If she was having a good day, it would only get better after hearing from him. She never remembered any instance when he didn't make her feel good.

He was what she referred to him as her "Feel Good Factor".

Sometimes, when he was in a good mood, he wrote about the most inane things and his sharp wit and subtle sarcasm showed through his words.

She was relieved that this was not an emotionally upheaving letter. There was just this much she could take in one day.

She was proud of him when he wrote that he didn't get angry at his offender.
He really had matured.

Okay maybe not that much. He had after all sent a copy of Witch Weekly to her that featured him on the cover page as England's sexiest sportsman.

Some things like vanity just can't be erased. Toned down, yes. But not completely erased.

She had been in an exceptionally good mood the whole day after receiving that stupid, mindless magazine. Even her juniors had noticed.

Hermione smiled at the memory.

He just wouldn't give up.

She was surprised at the irony. It was not in Draco's nature to emote so much or even write a letter for that matter.

He had always apparated or flooed to give some news or talk, even generally. He absolutely despised writing letters as a mode of communication.

He would rather talk and get it over with.

Hermione, on the other hand, wrote long letters, even after Draco had left England. It would be similar to the letter she had received from him, long and detailed. Talking about nothing in particular. Just daily stuff. Some important stuff. Some unimportant.

She would be a carefree soul, writing as she thought and felt.

After her marriage to Ron, Draco had grudgingly accepted the fact that he would not be able to apparate or floo her as often as he used to for mundane, useless chats.

So he had adopted her way of communication. Those blasted letters. That's when he had bought Paris.

Of course he had owned owls before. But Paris was meant only to deliver letters to Hermione. And her name held special meaning too. Hermione was sure that Draco had a reason behind naming the owl. But he had never mentioned it in his letters. So she could not be too sure. Maybe it was just a coincidence. Paris was after all his favourite city.

So they continued to communicate via letters. Her's would be long and colourful and his would be to the point. Not short or angry. Just to the point.

Hermione wasn't offended. Not in the least. She was used to Draco's hatred for letters. But he never forgot to write back and answer all her questions.

How the roles had been reversed.

The man, who absolutely abhorred writing letters, wrote foot after foot, about anything and everything.

And the woman whose strength lay in words, sent letters that had none.

She never answered his questions.

And just like Hermione, Draco was never offended.

Because that's what their friendship was. Just that. They were always there for each other. No expectations and no explanations. No apologies.

As long as she continued to send those naked pieces of parchment, Draco was satisfied.

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I know that Draco sounds extremely out of character, but I thought that since the pairing itself is so OOC, it won't hurt to make him OOC as well.

He's still Draco Malfoy though ;)

Vain and arrogant.

I'm aware that this chapter has not cleared anything but rather increased questions.

But I'm easing into the story.

There's a style I want to try out writing, but I'm still working on it.

I'm sure that soon you all will know more!

Thank again for the reviews!

Hope you liked the chapter!

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