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"Have you ever been in love?"

My Dear Sirius,

The school year has started off with a much anticipated boredom. I miss you. A lot more than I am truly willing to let on. Remus has started having conversations with Draco, but I doubt he'd believe me if I told him that I have been seeing you. I do mean that in the most literal way it is possible to mean it.

Harry and Tom are getting on a little bit too well, but I suppose that's natural. Harry needs something to ground him, to let him move on. I don't know. I just wish Tom's quarters weren't next to mine. It's disgusting and unreasonably tempting.

I hope you visit me again soon, really, Sirius. I can't find you when you don't want to be found. I wish I could. I really fucking wish I could.

Now I'm going to go burn this letter, so I don't have to admit to actually writing this.

Love,

Severus

"Yes I have. Twice in fact. And yourself?"

Dear Draco,

If you can see Sirius, then I want you to give him a message, okay? I'd tell you in person, except I have class, so here we go.

Sirius—I'm sorry for not being at your funeral, it was a full moon. I'm sorry I kissed Trisha Goldman seventh year, and it was just to make you jealous, really. I'm sorry I can't see you, if you are there like Draco says. I'm sorry that I killed Bella like that, it was just it hurt so bad.

It hurt so bad, Padfoot, like a million nails, and I can't make them go away. I can't, Sirius. I just can't.

Thank you Draco.

Remus Lupin

"Yes. I was. And now he's got…something else. And I…"

Draco,

My therapist says I should do this. So I am. Simply as that. He says that I'm sleeping with Tom not only out of extreme physical attraction, but because I feel guilty about your death. He thinks I feel guilty about you not telling me that you thought you housed bits of someone else's soul.

Yeah, feeling real guilty about that. Feeling real guilty for watching you on that fucking hill. Yeah, sensing lots of guilt. Do you think I feel guilty for not standing by your fucking side while you were sick, and how fucking thankful I was when you woke up and said you were fine. And then you go and fucking die on me and what the fuck I am supposed to do?

How the fuck can I not blame myself? Explain, I don't get it! Draco, I don't get it. I can't fucking blame you, because now you're a corpse, a fucking cold, gone, dead body with nothing left! So yeah. Guilt. Thanks.

"Have nothing left, yeah?"

Harry James Potter,

I can't stop thinking about you. I really, really wish I could. All that's going through my head is "black magic, new hex, Harry, Harry, Harry." And I love that. And I hate that.

I want to be able to study, to rule the damn world (if I haven't all ready, and thanks for not telling me either way). I want to make new hexes and spells and not wonder what it would be like to shag you in the broomshed, or in the locker rooms or the library.

I don't want this. I want power and respect and loyalty and probably some sex but I don't want love. No love. No more of this.

Tom Riddle Jr.

"Yeah."