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December 20, 1996

July 29, 1997

Dear Harry,

Snape's been trying to interfere now. Why is it that everyone thinks I'm going to immediately tell them all my ideas? How stupid are they? As soon as they get involved, they're in danger. The more people know, the worse off they are. And while I'm not particularly close with Snape, I don't want him killed either. Though I can't tell him that, of course.

I hate this, I can't stress it enough. I'm constantly tired now. I spend half the night trying to fix that damn cupboard, and so I don't have enough energy to do much during the day. People are starting to comment on it.

Slughorn's party, eh? I don't know why I bothered trying to go. I knew there would be no useful information, it didn't seem all that fun, and I didn't like most of the people... but...

Well, you were there. I think that's why I wanted to go. And you had... you had a date. I get this weird clenching feeling in my chest when I think about that. And not only that - but you were having fun with her. You genuinely liked her company, and that... well, it saddened me, because you'd never like to be around me. And it made me jealous of her, and I hate feeling jealous.

I came to a conclusion the other day. About you. And how I... feel towards you. Remember I said I sort of had a crush on you? I think...

Oh God, this is mortifying.

I think it's a bit more than that. Somehow, without my knowing, it's evolved from a crush to... more.

The way I hate all the girls you spend time with? How I'm jealous of them? The way I get inexplicably near tears when I think you'd never have fun with me like that? How I want to talk to you, to confide in you, to ask you for help? How I constantly worry about you, need to know you're okay? The way I can't take my eyes off of you, and I constantly think about you? The way I want to... kiss you?

It all adds up, those things.

I think... I think I'm in love with you.

And even though it feels so right, isn't it... well, wrong? Teenagers aren't supposed to really fall in love, are they? Isn't it all just meant to be hormones? But these aren't simply hormones, I know they're not. We're both boys, too, and are boys supposed to love each other? We're enemies. I know enemies aren't supposed to love each other.

But then again, we don't love each other do we? I love you, and that's it. You don't love me. And that hurts so much, it's worse than all of this Voldemort shit. It's a lot worse, and it's a lot harder to deal with, and I just wish... I wish you would love me back. But I know that will never happen. God, this letter is so sappy. A year ago, I would never have imagined myself writing it. Draco Malfoy, the sappy poof. Well, isn't it the truth?

Merry Christmas, Harry.

Love,

Draco