DISCALIMER: Am I J.K. Rowling? No. Am I the creator of the brilliant series entitled Harry Potter? No. Do I own the world of Harry Potter? No. Am I making any money with this story? Sadly, No. Is this Disclaimer just one big ol waste of time? Oh god, yes.

Author's note: Yes, I've edited the first chapter. I thought the original letter was too cheesy melodramatic. So I hope the new one works.

Just a little clarification to those who might get a tad bit confused. (because I know that many have been) The timeline for this story is a week and each chapter is dedicated to each day starting from September 23 (the first day) and so on to the present day: September 29. Now chapter one of course starts in the present time.

In real time, (present day) Harry is searching for the writer of the letter that was given to him. So in some of the chapters you will see a break into the present day (September 29) showing how Harry's search is going and where he is now. Hopefully this bit cleared up some things. And I hope that this is too your liking. Enjoy and feedback is welcome.

A Letter For My Love

The greatest thing you'll ever learn
Is just to love and be loved in return
-Moulin Rouge

September 29, 2005- Present Time: 3:34am- Harry's flat

A key turns in a lock. A door opens and a tall, young man steps tiredly into his dark flat. Running a hand through his hair, he sighs as he tosses his things onto the kitchen table and drapes his coat over the couch. With a flick of his wand, a bottle flies straight into an open hand.

He switches the lamplight on and rifles through the pile of letters in his hands. Bills, postcards, junk mail; there's nothing new, and the man takes a swig from the bottle.

The last letter in his hand reveals familiar writing. He smiles, thinking of her. Wondering what she could have possibly wrote about.

Opening the letter he scans the first sheet, at the words written in the all too familiar loopy handwriting. The warm smile lighting his features dissolves, and his face takes on a solemn mask.

He straightens and a deep intake of breath echoes in the dimly lit room. A hint of sorrow fills his eyes as they drift across the page a second time; the drink long forgotten is clasped tightly in his hand.

"Bloody hell."

He sets the drink down and sighs, shutting his eyes for a brief moment. Then places his head in his hands. The clock ticks. The muffled sound of a siren fades into the night, and he looks up.

He sits there, staring at the letter completely unlike anything she had ever sent him before. Sitting there gazing at it, he doesn't really see it at all. Instead, his sees only her.

Remembering the other page, he glances warily at it, surprised to find someone else's all too familiar writing gracing the sheet of parchment. It's all but blank, save for two lines scrawled right in the middle. His eyebrows rise in a mixture of confusion and amusement at what his friend has written.

Suddenly, he blinks as if waking from a dream, and there is a sudden resolve in his eyes. The rain begins to beat heavily upon the window, and he stands up stuffing his wand in his pocket. The clock chimes the time, and he looks at it, startled.

Thunder rumbles in the night sky, and in a blink he is gone; apparated to the place where he would meet her. The letter lies on the table, forgotten.

Dear Harry,

You never gave me a chance to speak. You just said what you wanted to say and didn't even allow me to give you any sort of response. Now I know most of that is my fault because I was far too speechless to react properly and my mind was a mess to even gather any coherent thought together, but I think that it's about time for me to tell you the truth. I've been a coward for so long, Harry so you cannot believe how hard this is for me. Now before you get all protective and start shaking your head telling me that I'm not and never have been a coward, I just want you to let me finish.

First of all I want to apologize for being so horrid. I'm sorry for being the cause of your troubles. You're my best friend and I never wanted you to get hurt because of me and my selfishness. I never wanted to come between the two of you, especially with your wedding just around the corner. To be honest, and I still feel absolutely ashamed for even thinking it, I had some hopes, but you must know Harry that I never wanted to be the 'Other Woman'.

Oh, Merlin, just thinking of myself as such disgusts me. I'm not someone's second choice and I never will be. Surely you know this. Now before you think anything, I'll have you know that this isn't my answer. God, I started this wanting to just get to the point, but I can't seem to. Right now I'm just writing down every word that pops in my head, so forgive me if I seem to running around in circles. I keep apologizing too. I can't seem to stop, and I don't know why.

Did you know that everyone at school expected us to be together? I saw Justin at a conference in London a few days ago, and he thought that we were married. I didn't want to raise my ring less finger and say "No" so I just told him that you had met this wonderful woman and were engaged to be married in a few months. And do you know what he said? He gave me one of his cheeky grins, you remember them: the one he used whenever he got the right answer or was about to take away a few House points, and said, "Don't worry, darling. He'll come around." And I was just speechless. I felt wretched because not only did I not feel horrified at the thought, but at that moment a picture of us married, with children in the yard and the whole lot sprung before my eyes. You see, I want all of that. I want the house, the children, the expenses, the arguments, the laughter, the smiles. I want it all, and I felt so ashamed for thinking that yes, I wanted you to come around. So you can only imagine my complete surprise when you told me earlier tonight that you think you might feel the same.

Oh dear, I just keep going on and on and not getting to the point so I'm just going to stop thinking and just say it. I love you. Oh, that looks wonderful on the page. I love you. It feels wonderful to finally tell you. I love you. I love you, Harry. I always have. I think the moment that I finally realized it was after that awful break up with that character who we shall never name. That night in my room, when you held me, and you comforted me, and you told me that whatever he thought or said wasn't important and that you cared for me and that was all that mattered. It knew it then as I know it now. I love you Harry Potter. So much.

You don't know how absolutely brilliant this feels writing the words and knowing that you're reading them. And yet, it's scary at the same time. I love you. I have nothing to hide anymore. I love you. And I don't feel the least bit embarrassed either. I love you. You must know this, Harry and you've been a prat for waiting this long. Lord, I've been a prat for waiting this long. I should have told you this long ago. Then maybe thins would be different now, but there's no use in thinking on the past.

As I've said, I won't be a man's "other woman". Now you know my feelings for you and I know that you're dealing with your own. As much as I want you to say yes, she's still in your life. She's still your fiancée, and I know that you still love her. The question is: How much?

I don't want to put this off any longer since your answer not only regards the outcome of my life, but also hers as well. Let me tell you, Harry, that whatever decision you make will be the right one. No matter what, I'll always be your best friend, but you have to make a decision and I'm sure Ron must have already told you that you cannot both of us.

I'll be waiting for you, Harry.

The second sheet of parchment held but only two lines written in the hand of a friend.

You can thank me later. Go to her.