Disclaimer: I don't own it. JKR does along with a bunch of other folks who have paid good money for the rights to it. I just write this for my own twisted enjoyment.

A/N: I had not originally planned to do more of these, but the requests of some of my reviewers triggered a massive plot bunny of a story that takes place in this ficton where Draco doesn't want to follow in his father's footsteps. For that to make sense, and to tide you all over until that piece is done, here's another bit of Draco's Letter to No One…

Letter to No One

by RowanRhys

November 1995

I looked the fool at Quidditch practice yesterday. I blew a Wronski Feint and plowed right into the pitch--and I'm glad.

Vincent broke my collarbone the day before when I told him to leave off about the fact that I haven't officially asked Pansy Parkinson to the Yule Ball like my father wants me to do. I'd rather ask the Weasel than Pansy, to tell you the truth. I've managed to hide the bruises and cuts from the other times I've needed "convincing" to be obedient, but there's no way that Madam Pomfrey would heal a broken bone without a full story as to how it happened and I was just too tired and dazed to make up a coherent explanation. I managed to carry my books with my left arm all day, but writing notes for my classes… By the time I got through Potions and Transfiguration, I knew I had to get it fixed without anyone knowing the truth. I've gotten used to living with pain over the years, but for some reason, this time I just couldn't ignore it. So when we did the practice match against Ravenclaw this evening, I pretended I saw the Snitch and dove after it.

And then, right before I would have had to pull up, I twisted my broomstick just the least little bit to make it look like I'd lost control, and slammed head first into the mud and snow right below the goals. I probably scared Cho Chang half to death.

When I woke up in the Hospital wing, my first thought was how disappointing it was that I hadn't managed to kill myself.

Madam Pomfrey said that I'm very lucky not to have come out of it with worse than a pair of broken collarbones, a concussion and more bruises than a barrel of old apples. She also scolded me on being stupid enough to be focusing on the Snitch to the exclusion of knowing just how far I was from the ground.

But I knew exactly how far away I was...