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Title: The Year in Review

Author: Draco Volatile

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters, material, and logos belong to J. K. Rowling. The plot -if there is one- belongs to
me.

Summary: Harry feels incomplete after leaving Hogwarts. He writes to Draco to help him feel better.

WARNING: Profanity and m/m slash hints.

A/N: Harry writes to Draco. Do you think the next few chapters should be letters that the boys send to eachother? I need
your opinion!
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Chapter 2 - A Quill, Ink, and a Bit of Old Parchment
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The next day was Thursday. Harry woke expecting to find himself surrounded by the boys of Gryffindor. But instead of smiling
faces to greet him, he was forced to wake up to the hideous sight of his cousin's endless heaps of old toys and games. Harry
had never been permitted to clear Dudley's things out of his room, and he cursed Uncle Vernon for that. He chucked a board
game off the windowsill so he could actually see the sunshine that would be filtering in through the window.

But there wasn't any sunshine. Instead, there was rain. Not dripping, dismal rain, but crashing, violent rain. It poured down
over the trees, drenching Privet Drive. Lightening flashed across the sky and thunder boomed. A peeved Hedwig hooted angrily
in her cage.

Harry dressed quickly in an oversize sweater that had belonged to Dudley. It was a revolting brownish-green color and looked
like it had been digested by some large animal and woven back into clothing. Harry resented that sweater, but there was
nothing else clean that he could wear. Aunt Petunia always made him wash his own clothes in the wink, and he was only allowed
to do that on Fridays. He didn't know why she had done that, but he figured it was probably to annoy him. Well, it worked.

"Breakfast is on the table!" Uncle Vernon bellowed up the stairs. "Are you coming down or will I have to give your pancakes
to Dudley?"

Harry rushed down the stairs to the kitchen. Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley all seated at the table. He sat down to
see Uncle Vernon smiling slyly and dumping a plate of crisp, brown pancakes in front of his massive cousin. "You're too late,
boy. Make yourself a sandwich."

Not wanting to eat another sandwich made form stale bread and crusty peanut butter, Harry went back upstairs. He flopped down
on his bed and sighed deeply. Unless he could get a job in Hogsmeade, he would be forced to put up with his hellish relatives
for the rest of his life.

Hogwarts now seemed to Harry like a good dream that he had woken up in the middle of. He would never find out what happened
to Ron, Hermione, and Malfoy. Not unless he continued dreaming . . . But how could he go back? It seemed that he had lost
contact with all his friends. Ron hadn't written to him. Hermione hadn't called. The world seemed to desolate when neither of
them were talking to him.

Harry pulled his trunk out from beneath the bed and opened it. He found a quill, ink, and a bit of old parchment from
Hogwarts. If they weren't going to write to him, he would write to them. He knelt down on the wooden floor and dipped the
quill in the ink bottle and began.


Dear Draco


Did he just write, 'Dear Draco'? Harry stared down at the parchment in disbelief. He couldn't write to Malfoy. Malfoy was his
archenemy. Malfoy *hated* him. And he hated Malfoy . . . didn't he? A voice nagged at him in the back of his mind. He ignored
it and wrote:


How's it going? I really miss you. I miss everyone. It's so lonely here at the Dursleys's. Dudley just ate my breakfast. I
wish I was back at Hogwarts with you and all my other friends. I don't see how I'm going to live here. Did you get a job in
Hogsmeade? Ron and Hermione said they are going to. But I don't know what I'm going to do yet. Don't get me wrong, I really
DON'T care if you've got a job, I'm just bored as hell.

-Harry


Harry opened Hedwig's care and tied the folded letter to her leg. She protested, but eventually allowed him to push her out
the window and into the storm. He watched his owl fly away until she was only a speck of white in the distance. He really did
care about Malfoy's answer, but knew it would never come.
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A/N: I need fanart! If you really like this fic, please draw a scene and e-mail it to me!