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Actually, he didn’t have a nightmare. No. All of it, nightmares and Voldemort ended months ago. He’s up because of a note. A note I wrote in anonymity. I’ve been writing him notes all these years. I sent them via owl. He never seemed to have wanted to find out who I was. I guess he needed the fun; he needed the mystery, after all he’s been through. But tonight, I was gonna reveal myself to him. Damn. I was fucking scared. But then again, this maybe the last chance I’d have.
I asked him to meet me by the Whomping willow. It’s the most romantic place I could ever think of. Who could blame me? I’ve never been much of a lover boy have I? Pansy Parkinson you ask? It was all but a sad joke gone astray. I never liked her really. I just needed to show everyone that I was straight. Crabbe had asked me once in his ogre-like tone, “Draco? Why are staring at Harry so deeply?”, It was a non-malicious question he asked after noticing me staring intently at Harry’s cute smile, and those cheeks that seemed to blush all the time. “… just scoping the competition is all”, and he let the topic slide. You understand why I needed a cover, right?
Anyway, Harry, oh Harry, had now picked up pace. He was now walking briskly. He must be excited, I told myself. I remember once he told me in a note that he felt that he loved me. I told him he’d freak out if he knew who I was, but all he said was he didn’t care. I dismissed the notion entirely and just went on asking about that Weasley girl, Ginny, but all he said was he had gone for her because he thought he’d never have a chance with me. Words could never do justice the way I felt after I read his message. I giggled for hours.
If only he knew I was his arch enemy, if only he knew that who he was writing to was the Death Eater’s son, if only he knew it was me – Draco, then I bet he wouldn’t have said those words, let alone reply.
...to be continued...
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