CHAPTER 2: Shadow
To my pen pal,
I was surprised to receive a letter from you so early. I'm slightly pleased about it though, because writing a reply gives me an excuse to stay away from the other students in my common room - they tend to get annoyingly loud whenever I want some quiet time. I like your nickname idea, and after a long time thinking about it, I decided to make mine "Shadow." There's a rather long story behind it, but since there's not much I feel like I can tell you right now (perhaps in later letters), I will tell it to you.
There really is no specific event the name is based off of. Basically, all my life I've lived as a shadow. It started the day I was born. My father passed on his worst qualities to me, as did my mother. Growing up, I hardly even felt like a full person - just a shadow of my parents. And because of it, all I can do is stay as far away from the sun as possible. Wherever light moves, I move in the opposite direction. It's a bit like I'm running away from the better side of the world, because the dark side is the only place I can relate to. Complicated, isn't it?
Unlike you, I'm having a hard time with this challenge. Never once in my life have I confided my thoughts to anyone, not even a journal. I've always assumed that I could just handle all of it on my own, and to be honest, I have. But now that I've started this letter, it feels almost nice to get it all on paper and know that someone who won't judge me for what they see will be reading it.
The boy you referred to sounds like someone I'm very close with. We're not friends, but I know him very well. You're right in your speculation - it is because of his parents that he's turned out that way. Please, if we happen to be thinking about the same person, don't pity him. I'm sure he would take your sympathy as an insult, as kindly meant as it is. Yet at the same time, don't believe he's the person you think he is. After knowing him for many years, I can assure you that there are, like for you, sides of him that he rarely shows.
Well, since you told me two bits of information about yourself, it would only be fair for me to do the same. Of course, you already know one - the shadow one. The second? Well, you bringing up watching the snow reminded me of something I love to do which is very similar to that - I love to watch the rain. To sit on a window sill and watch the rain fall heavily, drenching everything on the ground beneath it...Believe it or not, that's one of my favourite pastimes. There's something so powerful in the fact that with although one raindrop is so tiny and will barely even move a flower, a thousand raindrops can drown it. I suppose it's rather romantic if you think about it long enough.
Merlin's beard, it's already 2:00 AM. I'm currently writing this in an unknown corridor because the people in my house like to stay up until the early morning and be insufferably loud. The last thing I want is for one of them to read this letter. Anyway, I should return to my common room now - they all should've gone to bed by now. If I have time, I will send this letter tomorrow morning.
Sincerely, Shadow
Draco put down his quill and rubbed his fingers, which were cramped from writing continuously for so long. Multiple thoughts were swirling about in his head, but he kept going back to one - the fact that his pen pal was a mudblood. When he had read that part of her letter, he'd been on the verge of chucking it out, but curiosity had kept him reading. Strangely enough, he'd felt compelled to write back, even though his mind was telling him that writing to a mudblood was a very degrading act indeed.
Draco frowned at the letter he had written in response. "Amazing how all of that actually came from me," he murmured. "I'll probably regret doing this tomorrow morning."
As he reread his own neat handwriting, Draco's frown deepened. For the first time in his life, he'd actually let his guard down and showed the softer, weaker side of him. It was something new to him, and he wasn't sure whether he liked it or not. When Draco got to the fourth paragraph, he stopped. Picking up his pen pal's letter, he read over her description about the boy she knew for the eighth time. His heart sunk when he realized how truly similar he and this boy were. I hope she doesn't mean me, he thought grimly. But then again, there were hundreds of boys like that - it was highly unlikely that she could actually be referring to him.
With a yawn, Draco began packing up his writing supplies. Once he had his quill and letter back in his pocket, he stood up from the ledge he had been sitting on. Before he left, he paused and turned to look out the window at the night sky. Please, he silently prayed to the stars that shone brightly overhead the lake, make this person trustworthy. Let me trust someone with my secrets for once in my life.
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"Hey Ron!" Hermione chirped happily as she sat down next to her boyfriend at the Gryffindor table for breakfast the next day.
"'Lo Hermione," he replied, leaning over to kiss her before going back to scribbling on a torn piece of parchment.
"What's that?" she asked curiously as she began to pile scrambled eggs onto her plate. "And where's Harry?"
"This?" Ron asked, looking up and gesturing at what he was writing.
Hermione nodded and began buttering a piece of toast.
"Oh, this is my letter to my pen pal," he answered carelessly. "And I have no idea where Harry is. Probably sleeping in."
Hermione frowned. "Why's it so messy?" she asked bluntly.
Ron shrugged. "I left my blank rolls of parchment back in my dormitory and I didn't feel like going back to get them, so I tore a piece off of my Charms essay." He frowned, then added, "It was 7 inches shorter than it was supposed to be."
Sighing, Hermione restrained herself from scolding him about doing his homework, and went back to putting jam on her toast.
Just then, Harry appeared, panting as if he had just run a long way. He was clutching a roll of parchment in one hand and a quill in the other. "Just finished my letter to my pen pal!" he announced as he sat down heavily across the table from Hermione.
"Have you now?" she asked interestedly. "How long was it?"
"A foot," he replied proudly. "Pretty good if I do say so myself."
"Good job," Hermione said admiringly. His was only a few inches shorter than hers. She had expected Harry to, like Ron, not spent much time on the challenge, but she was glad to see that he was trying to give it some effort.
Ron looked up, his ears red. "Way to make me look bad, Harry," he muttered.
Hermione laughed. "So what did you write about?" she asked Harry.
"Oh, you know, stuff," he said, waving his hand around in the air. "How about you?"
"Same here," Hermione replied with a nod. If Harry was going to be secretive about it, she might as well do the same.
"Anything you haven't told me?" Ron joked.
Hermione blushed and responded, "Yes, as a matter of fact, I told him quite a few things about me that you don't know."
"'Him'?" Ron asked sharply. "Your pen pal is a guy?"
Shrugging, Hermione took a bite of her toast and replied, "I'm assuming he is."
"And what did you tell him?" Ron asked suspiciously. He seemed to have forgotten about his half-finished letter, and was now staring at Hermione with a raised eyebrow.
"It's secret!" she answered hotly.
"You'll tell some mystery guy your secrets but not me?" Ron asked indignantly.
Hermione sighed. Why was Ron getting so worked up over this? It wasn't like she was confessing her love to another guy. "Ron, you know this is supposed to be private. And I didn't tell him anything you'd actually be interested in."
"But I'm your boyfriend, Hermione," he cried incredulously. "You're supposed to tell me these things, even if I don't want to hear them."
Now slightly annoyed, Hermione said firmly, "Stop making a big deal out of it. I don't know this person and they don't know me, so what does it matter if they know a secret of mine? It's not even a big secret!"
"That's not the point!" Ron argued back, his voice rising. People around them were beginning to stare at them, and Harry was biting his lip, looking unsure about what to do.
"Erm...guys..." Harry said timidly. "You might want to take this somewhere else..."
"There won't be a need to do that," Hermione said angrily. "I'm leaving."
Standing up, she grabbed her bag and shot one last glare over her shoulder at Ron. As she stormed through the rows of students, heads turned and whispers arose. Ron simply stood there with his mouth hanging open. "What did I do?" he asked Harry as the doors slammed shut after his girlfriend.
Harry simply shook his head. "Girls," he muttered.
As the two friends sat back down in their seats, stormy grey eyes from across the hall fixed their gaze on the empty seat next to Ron. For a moment, Draco stared at the spot where Hermione was just sitting minutes ago, then without a word, he returned to his conversation with Blaise Zabini.
A/N: Sorry Draco was so OOC in this chapter!
