Dear Chris,
I'm writing to talk about what happened in the wishing room three days ago. I don't
think that this can be ignored, as-
No. Too formal. I'll try again.
Hey, Chris!
Just writing to see how you are. Really want to chat about Wednesday, so come to
Gryffindor common room any time-
Hell no! I sound like I've had a lobotomy! I'm never that cheery.
Chris
Look, I feel a bit weird writing this, and I guess you don't feel great either, or else you
wouldn't be avoiding me. I'm sorry, ok? I just sort of panicked. It was a mistake, and
I swear it won't happen again-
How can I say it was a mistake? It didn't feel like one to me. It felt amazing. New go.
To the pouf.
What the fuck do you think you're doing, you fag?
God, I can't send that. Don't want to. It'd kill him. Kill me too. Why did I even write that?
Chris.
I'm not going to say sorry, because I'm not. I don't know if you meant to do it, or you
made a mistake, or what. But I hope it wasn't, because it felt… good. Better than
kissing Mellissa Bones, anyway. It seems like you're avoiding me, because I haven't
seen you once. You're not turning up for remedial potions, and I talked to Robert. He
said that you don't go down to dinner anymore. Please do. I'm worried about you.
Rose is too. She asked me to talk to you, because she's embarrassed about how she
reacted. So am I. I feel awful. When Rose walked in, and you pulled away, you
looked at me and your face sort of… crumpled. And then you ran. We need to talk. I
can't stop thinking about it, and my quidditch is suffering. (I'm sorry. That's not the
point, and I know it.)
Look. Even if all you're going to say is that you didn't mean to, and you don't want
to do anything else, you need to tell me. You can't just leave me hanging like this.
Please. I miss you.
Your friend,
James
Yeah. That's better. I'll send that.
Gods, but I miss him.