The Burrow was such a great home.
Harry, no matter how many times he visited the place, thought the Burrow was his favourite place in the world
He loved lounging by the warm fireplace, reading The Quibbler while Mrs Weasley prepared lunch.
He loved feeding the chickens with Hermione while Ron swore at the 'pecking demons'.
He loved hanging ancient Christmas ornaments on the tree with the Weasley family, while the fire crackled and the snow fell in the background.
He loved playing Quidditch with Fred, George, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny until Hermione's incompetence finally got to Ron and he offered a trade with the opposite team.
He loved Mr Weasley begging Harry for Muggle information over supper, while Fred and George passed out their newest type of Puking Pastilles for the rest to sample.
But most of all, he loved the indescribable feeling of home.
"Anything interesting in there?" Ron asked absentmindedly, putting up new Chudley Cannons posters on his walls.
Harry turned the page of The Daily Prophet. "Nope. Although now I'm 'The Boy Who Lies.' Pretty clever, I must say."
"Come on, don't let those prats get to you. Weren't they the ones who described Diggory's death as 'a tragic accident'?"
"That," Harry said, scanning the news article on himself, "was Umbridge."
Ron gave an exaggerated shudder and finished replacing Viktor Krum with Joey Jenkins. "Damn it, I wish it could stay winter break forever. I don't want to go back to that foul toad."
Harry sighed and didn't reply. Footsteps sounded on the hardwood and moments later, Hermione appeared in the doorway. "Post's here."
Harry and Ron sprung from whatever they were doing at once. Hermione rolled her eyes and led them down the stairs. "You won't be so excited, Ron, once you see Ginny's mail."
Ron gave her a worried glance but continued tromping down the stairs, Harry following close behind. It was the afternoon before Christmas, meaning last-minute Christmas presents would be arriving. Harry wasn't expecting too much from Ron's relatives or Hermione's parents, but he couldn't help feeling excited anyway.
"It's not that bad," they heard Mr Weasley say sympathetically.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione hopped off the final step of the stairway to see Ginny holding up an extremely modest white gown. Ginny glared at the frilly sleeves while Mr Weasley tried to keep the twins from bursting into laughter.
"Merlin's beard, Ginny, that's the ugliest dress I've seen in my life!" Ron exclaimed, plopping down next to the twins. Mr Weasley gave Ron a look, and Fred and George erupted into laughter.
"It was from Aunt Muriel." Ginny nearly laughed herself.
There was a small pile of packages and letters on the coffee table, most labeled Ronald. George and Fred had already unwrapped their gifts, which had both been hair gel and suit ties. Mr Weasley only had a scarf and a pair of socks sitting on his lap.
Ron scooped up his presents and opened the first. He wrinkled his nose, waving a pair of gnome-themed boxers in the air. "Aunt Muriel's a real laugh, isn't she." Ron opened the rest of his packages to reveal a razor, a self-correcting quill pen, and a box of Bertie Bott's All-Flavour Beans.
Hermione opened the two gifts addressed to her: one from her parents, which was a book labeled Intelligent Witches Through The Ages: 1700-1980; the other a modest dress from Aunt Muriel. There was a note enclosed with the gown which read: For when you marry Ronald. Hermione flushed and shoved the letter deep into her pocket.
"Harry, there's a few for you," Ron mused, clearly not at all baffled by Aunt Muriel's straightforward statement.
Harry nodded and picked up the packages for himself: a camera from Hermione's mum; an ugly tie from Aunt Muriel with a note that claimed it was for Ron and Hermione's wedding; a pair of leather dragon-hide gloves from Charlie; and hair gel plus a comb from Fleur.
"Not bad," Harry grinned, leaning back in his chair.
Just then, a single envelope flew down the chimney and landed in Harry's lap.
Curious, Harry picked it up. It was a bright white envelope, with a plain black wax seal. It looked elaborately inconspicuous.
"Open it, Harry," Hermione urged.
"Yeah, who's it from?" added George.
"Perhaps the Ministry?" asked Mr Weasley worriedly.
"What if it's a prank?" Fred wondered.
"Who is it even addressed to?" Ginny piled on.
"Could be another death threat," Ron warned.
Harry opened the letter cautiously. He pulled out the folded note from within. He became very aware of how everybody leaned in close, how eager their eyes were.
"I-I think I'll go read this in private? If that's okay?" Harry asked tentatively.
Mr Weasley blinked. "Of course, of course! Give the boy some privacy, kids," he added to Ginny's and the twins' protests.
Harry stood up and walked outside onto the porch, the snow dusting his sweater. He unfolded the letter.
It was blank.
Harry's heart fell. He shouldn't have gotten his hopes up, it could've just been something stupid or minuscule…. But the letter began to change.
In possession of Harry James Potter, letters spelled out. They glowed green, the words, before vanishing completely. In replacement, black ink began to write more.
Harry Potter. I'm going to be frank: I am in love with you. Obviously, I'm not going to sign this letter; I'm not stupid. If this letter fell into any hands that weren't attached to the body of Harry Potter, it would explode into nothing but scraps of paper. If you are reading this, well done, you haven't let the letter touch the hands of those blood-traitors.
I don't know why I am in love with you or even if I want to be in love with you. But, unfortunately, I fancy you, and there's not much you can do about it. Unless you break my heart. Please don't do that, by the way.
If you ever, by the off chance, figure out who I am, do not speak of this to anyone. It would ruin my life.
This mysterious admirer did not elaborate how their life would be ruined, and, as promised, they did not sign their name. Or a date, or a return address. Very interesting.
But two words stood out to Harry: blood-traitors. Harry was positive only Death Eaters used that term. And, hopefully, only a fellow teenager would be in love with Harry.
So who could it be?
Harry narrowed it down to Slytherins. Slytherins at Hogwarts. And it must be a rich Slytherin, because the letter looked quite expensive.
Rich Slytherin... rich Slytherin… Harry thought for a moment. Then he did a double-take, panic slashing at his heart.
Draco Malfoy?
Harry bit his bottom lip to keep from screaming. How could this be? How could Malfoy be in love with him?
Although, of course, it could just be a prank. It was highly possible, in fact. But it didn't sound like a prank when Harry read it a second time, or a third, or a fourth.
It's true, then, Harry thought numbly, sinking down to sit on the porch steps. Draco bloody Malfoy is in love with me.
Oddly enough, the thought brought a wave of butterflies to Harry's stomach. Oh Merlin, Harry thought, horrified, do I fancy him back?
"Harry?" Ginny appeared behind Harry. "What is it?"
"Oh." Harry flushed. "It's nothing, er-"
But Ginny was reaching for the letter, the black words shining in the sun. "Ginny, no-"
The envelope exploded, just as Malfoy said, into thousands of tiny bits of paper. They swirled in the air and fell into the snow, Harry watching with a gaping mouth.
Ginny frowned. "What was that? What was in the letter?"
"Nothing," Harry whispered. "It doesn't matter."
That night, while everyone at the Burrow was asleep, Harry began a letter. Draco Malfoy...