Just so we're clear, I'm only writing this because Hermione forced me to.

It's not like it matters, though, does it? There's no chance in Hell that you'll ever be reading this – these, if Hermione has her way – so I don't really know why I started with that. It gives me peace of mind, I suppose.

Hermione says I need to confront the people I hate; even it's only through letters they'll never see. She says it will be an act of catharsis for me – I don't know what that means, exactly, but I learnt a long time ago that I should just do what she says. It's just so much easier for everyone involved.

Of course, that doesn't mean she's always right. She insisted I started off by writing to you because we have the most bad blood between us – because, according to her, in many ways I hate you more than I hate Voldemort. She couldn't be more wrong.

I never hated you, you know. Oh, if you ever saw this letter, you'd probably scoff at that line, but it's true. If I'm honest with myself, I'm well aware of the fact that I never hated you. No, my feelings towards you have, for the most part, been far simpler – I envied you.

And you would definitely scoff at that. After all, why would the Boy Who Lived be jealous of little old you, regardless of the fact that you're a Malfoy, right? But then, it's not like you know me, either. Not really.

If you did, you wouldn't wonder.

Apart from Hagrid, you were the first person I met in the wizarding world who would be truly important to my life – even before Ron. And you were the first person who had an actual family. I might not have liked you much, but it was obvious even then that you had a family who cared for you – if someone knew to look for it, they could hear the way you cared for your parents in your voice.

I might have been the most famous person in the wizarding world, but you had the only thing that I ever wanted – a family.

So there you have it. I've been jealous of you ever since I first met you. It's not the only thing that went wrong between us, of course – you were never exactly the model of blood integration, and Ron and Hermione both have families that I envy just as much as I do yours – but that's where it started. And I'd be extremely unaware not to realise that that has been a part of almost every fight and argument that we've ever had, right up until our sixth year.

But that was a different situation altogether.

The point I'm trying – and probably failing – to make here is that, in the end, it was my envy and jealousy that bound us together more than any form of hatred. At least, that's how it was from my side of our rivalry – I don't know if you viewed it differently, if you really did – do – hate me. And my everlasting obsession (that's what Hermione calls it, at least) with you gave you power over me that I probably shouldn't have given away.

Definitely shouldn't have, actually. Giving your greatest childhood rival the power to hurt you emotionally isn't ever a good idea.

I don't really think you knew when you were doing it – not in the ways that really hurt. I'm not stupid enough not to realise that had you know, you'd have made sure you were so much more conspicuous. But watching you open those care packages from home? That was always so much more painful than having to deal with whatever stupid comment of the week you'd come up with.

I'm becoming overemotional now. Hermione was right, I guess – writing this letter really is helping me deal with everything that's happened over the past year. The past couple of years, if we're all honest with ourselves. I guess I just needed some sort of outlet – I was always aware of just how much I could let Ron and Hermione see, even when I was at the peak of my anger and frustration.

In a way, you were safer than any of them. I didn't need to feel guilty when I took out my anger on you. I'm pretty sure that you were doing exactly the same thing to me, after all. You were the easy outlet for my emotions, one I needed rather desperately, now that I look back on out time at Hogwarts.

In another time, maybe we could have been friend. Hermione says that according to Muggle science – stop rolling your eyes! – there are possibly an infinite number of alternate dimensions. I'm ready to guess that in every one where my parents – a family that loved me – raised me, you and I are best friends.

But those worlds aren't ours. They belong to people who look like us, but are as different from us as possible. And in this world, we're rivals – albeit ones that manage to serve necessary purposes in each others' lives.
(Yes, I'm aware of the fact that you needed an outlet just as much as I did. We've always had a symbiotic relationship, haven't we?)

Hermione thinks we still have a chance for friendship, and maybe she's right. We've only just turned seventeen last year, after all – and for the first time in a long time, I can say this with all certainty: we have the rest of our lives in front of us. Who knows what's waiting to happen?

…

So, to end, I'm really not sure what I'm saying in this letter, or why I'm even writing it at all. Like I said, you're never going to read it.

Still, Hermione was right. It did help.

Maybe she'll be right once again in the future. Maybe you'll see this letter one day, like she's sure you will. But until then, this is going at the bottom of my sock drawer.

I guess I owe you a thanks for helping me get my emotions sorted out, don't I? Even if you actually didn't do anything at all…

Still. Thank you, Malfoy.

Yours,

Potter

A/N: This was written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, using the prompts: (quote) "If envy were a fever, all the world would be ill" – Danish Proverb; (emotion) jealousy; (word) freedom.

While I like to think of this one as pre-slash, it can easily be construed as friendship/Harry getting stuff off his chest - whatever you want to see it as.

I hope you guys liked it! As always, please don't forget to drop a review on your way out :)