Disclaimer: Clearly does not belong to me. No infringement intended.

Summary: Not everyone says, "I love you" with hearts and flowers. Sometimes it sounds a lot more like, "I hate you." A story told in letters from Draco to Harry.

Rated: R for content in later chapters.

oOo

I hate you. I hate the way your hair falls across your face. I hate the way you walk like your hips are made of something slippery, no crisp clean economy of motion like a decent human being, just filthy waves of sex rolling off them every time you move. It's disgusting, putting yourself on display like that so everyone can see exactly what it would be like to fuck you just by watching you walk down the hallways. Do you want every sex addled cretin in the school attacking you?

Of course you don't care. You never care about anything.

You don't care that you numb my brain, make me clumsy and awkward, make me lose track of what people are saying to me. It's some secret plan to make everyone think I am an incompetent fool. I hate the way you stare back at me while you talk to your friends like you're talking to me all the way across the room. Do you think I can't feel your eyes on me? How am I supposed to concentrate when you look at me like that, like you've lost the ability to blink, eyes dilated 'til they look black with just that tease of green around the edges?

And what business do you have being beautiful? You were never beautiful before. You were skinny and short and your hair looked like you cut it yourself in the dark and your clothes never fit and it was easy to tease you because I was better than you and I knew it. Now you are taller than me and I hate it. I hate looking up into your perfect face and watching you suck your lip into your mouth and bite it until it's chapped and mangled. Your lips would be rough under my tongue, not smooth silk like a girl.

I hate the way you tell me you love me when we are alone and stand too close and touch my face and make my heart race so fast I feel like I am dying, then act like you don't even know me when other people are around. Not that I would willingly speak to you in public. I couldn't if I wanted to. I'd probably vomit or fall down from sweat-slippery feet and hands. You make me dizzy and nauseous and angry and empty and I don't need this right now.

So just fuck off. Take your love and shove it up your goddamned perfect arse. Shave your head so the ebony of your unbrushed hair can't hurt innocent bystanders. Gouge out your eyes so they can't follow me every where I go. Cover your skin in grease and dirt so the milk white can't blind me. Scream every night until your voice is hoarse so in the morning I can't hear the sounds that lick at parts of me no one but me has ever touched. Take a cold shower so I can't feel the heat of your body across the room, or better yet, bathe in ice.

Stop crying to your friends about how cruel I am, how I hurt you, how I break your heart with my indifference. They already think I am Voldemort's minion. Do you imagine they could loathe me, or pity you any more than they have always from the beginning? You said you love me. This is who I am. You don't have to fuck my friends or turn them against me to hurt me, shatter me the way you tell everyone who will listen that I have shattered you. All you have to do is breathe, exist, love me, and I break into a thousand pieces. I will never find all of me again.

Are you happy?

oOo

What the fuck is wrong with you? You wanted to know how I feel about you and I told you. You pushed me, and pushed me, and you wouldn't let it go. So now you won't even speak to me? What did you want me to say? That I love you and I want to skip down the halls holding hands and braid each other's hair? I'm not one of your damn goody-goody, touchy feely friends like the Weasel and the Mudblood.

Have you even met me? Did you think that just because I let you stick your tongue down my throat just to get you to shut up for ten seconds I would suddenly turn into a completely different person? If you wanted someone who would fall all over you and treat you like a god, you should have tried that shit with C-c-c-reevey. If my father sees that picture you won't have to worry about giving me the silent treatment any more because I'll be buried behind Malfoy Manor where I can finally get some peace.

oOo

Can't you just yell at me or something? Tell me you hate me. Tell me all your friends were right when they told you my heart was made of ice and I'd never be good for anything but causing suffering. Cry. Scream. Hex me. Curse me. Hit me. Something. I haven't heard your voice in weeks. How am I supposed to live like this? How can you just stare at me with that, that hollow, defeated look in your eyes and never say a word? When was the last time you said anything to anyone?

Are you trying to hurt me? Well, it's working. I feel like someone ripped my heart out of my chest and left the empty space exposed. I'd cut it out myself and send it to you wrapped in silver paper in exchange for the chance to hear you whisper a single word. I'd stand still while you gave me a plague of boils simply to hear you say the curse. Please. Hate me 'til the day you die, only hate me out loud.

Or simply forget about me. I'm a stupid wanker. I'm not worth it. Just turn your eyes off when they trip over me like I'm wrapped in your cloak, invisible, or not even there. If you want to cause me the most pain I can imagine, do that, and be happy without me and make me watch you move on to someone better than me.

It was only a kiss.