To Love Again

The next morning after breakfast, Ron, Hermione and Harry made their way to Potion’s class. All the while, Harry was still thinking about the information he and Hermione had found in regard to the Puter Pectus curse.

Upon taking their seats in the dungeon, Harry bent down to set his book bag on the floor and noticed an unopened envelope laying directly under the desk. He picked up the envelope and examined it front and back, trying unsuccessfully to find some clue as to who left it there.

Ron looked down at the envelope with curiosity. “What’s that, mate?”

“I don’t know,” Harry replied. “It must be a letter, but there’s no name on it. Perhaps I should open it up and--”

“No!” Hermione’s firm hand stopped him before he could slide his finger underneath the opening. “Harry, it’s not yours, and besides--you don’t know what’s in it! I think you should just leave it on the floor where you found it. Obviously the owner must be someone who sits here in another class.”

Ron looked thoughtfully at Hermione, then at Harry. “She does have a point, you know. I would leave it if I were you.”

Harry stared down at the blank envelope in his hands. Although his friends were probably right, something in his gut told him that he should hold on to the letter and return it to its rightful owner. He bent down and acted as though he was placing it back on the ground, then discreetly slipped it into his bag. There was something in that letter; he just knew it. Plus, he didn’t want to risk having this letter end up in the wrong hands.

After dinner that evening, Ron and Hermione invited Harry to join them by the lake, but he graciously declined under the false pretense of giving them time to be alone together. Once they were safely out of sight, Harry turned and ran to the Gryffindor common room. Luckily the common room was completely empty, since everybody else had gone outside to enjoy one of the
last warm days before fall set in.

Harry sat down on the couch with his bag next to him. He reached inside the bag with shaky fingers and pulled out the mysterious letter he had found on the dungeon floor. His heart fluttered nervously, and he felt a mite guilty for taking something that was not his. Hermione was probably right, as usual. He probably shouldn’t have taken the note. But, he rationalized with
himself, he had the letter now, and he’d have to open it and read it in order to know whose it was. He took a deep breath and tried to calm his nerves, then carefully opened the letter and unfolded it. As his eyes scanned the letter’s contents, his breath caught in his throat. It was very disturbing news indeed…

***
To The One I Wish Were Not of My Blood,
You are a disgrace to the Malfoy name, you and your mother both. She was weak, and I should have known that you would be weak because of her. You are no longer fit to wear the Malfoy name, and will be disinherited. But do not
disregard this letter, for Azkaban or not, in just a few days time, I plan on making those threats from long before your Puter Pectus affliction, fulfilled.

Lucius
***

Harry stared down at the letter in disbelief. He could not help wondering what Malfoy might have done to cause Lucius to call him “weak” and disinherit him. Suddenly, a light went on in Harry’s mind. This was the perfect opportunity for him to pay back Draco for saving his life! He would give the letter to Draco and offer his help to the Slytherin. Then they’d be even, and Harry could finally get on with his life. Now, how would he get Draco alone long enough to give him the letter?

The map! Use the map, he thought to himself. He grabbed his book bag and headed up to his bedchamber, where he dug the Marauder’s Map out of its hiding place, pointed his wand at it and whispered, “I solemnly swear I am up to no good.” On the map, Harry found Malfoy alone in an empty corridor near the Great Hall. He quickly put Malfoy’s note in his pocket, then rushed out of the portrait hole and started towards the hallway that contained Malfoy.

________________________________________________
Ah, sweet silence, Draco smiled to himself. He was seated quietly on the stairs near the Great Hall while the other students were outside enjoying the sun. He never did care much for being out in the sunlight; his flawless pale skin simply wasn’t made for the sun’s harsh rays. Besides, he knew the Hogwarts grounds would be full of rowdy students, and he didn’t care to be a
part of it. No, he preferred the peaceful stillness of this temporarily deserted corridor. There was nobody to bother him, no noises to break his quiet meditation--then he suddenly heard approaching footsteps on the stairs.

Bloody hell, Draco thought angrily. Can’t a bloke get a little privacy around here for once? With a threatening sneer marring his handsome features, he stood and turned, preparing to put a curse on whoever was disrupting his quiet time. He was surprised to see that his intruder was Potter, who once again was coming toward him with a determined look on his face.

“What is it now, Potter?,” Draco asked in an exasperated voice. “Are you stalking me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Malfoy,” Harry replied flatly. He pulled an envelope from inside his robes and held it out to Draco. Harry’s hand was shaking as he hesitantly said, “I just wanted to give you this…It‘s from your father…I found it on the floor in Potions class…”

Draco eyed Potter quizzically, then took the envelope from him. “I wondered what had happened to this letter,” he muttered to himself. He started to extract the note from inside the envelope, then stopped to glare at Potter, who stood there watching him with a mixture of fear and sympathy. “What is your problem, Potter? You gave me the letter, now go!” Right then, he noticed that the envelope had been opened. Draco hadn’t opened it yet when he lost it. That meant that Potter must’ve opened it.

Potter started up the stairs, but Draco grabbed the Gryffindor by the arm and swung him back around. Draco roughly grabbed the collar of Potter’s shirt--as his father had done to him on many occasions--and slammed him up against the wall.

“You read my letter, didn’t you, Potter? You nosy little prat!,” he shouted in Potter’s face.

Potter didn’t show one ounce of fear as he glared right back at Draco. “In case you haven’t noticed, Malfoy, the envelope has no markings on it. I had to read it to see who it belonged to!”

Draco scowled ominously at Harry and tightened his grip on Harry’s collar. Harry pried Draco’s pale hand off of him. “I was trying to help you, Malfoy! In case it hasn’t sunken in yet, your psychotic Death Eater father is coming after you! If you’re going to be angry with anybody , it should be him, not me!” Harry was so angry, he was shaking and his breathing was heavy as Malfoy’s face changed from enraged to frightened.

Malfoy had never seen Harry so livid in his six years of knowing the Gryffindor. Merlin, Potter’s right, Draco thought to himself, stunned. He felt slightly guilty for threatening Potter like he did. Once again, his temper had gotten the best of him. He silently watched as Harry turned and started to leave.

Harry began to walk back up the stairs and away from Malfoy. Despite the rage he felt towards Malfoy, he couldn’t help feeling sorry for the Slytherin. He paused on the stairs and turned to face Malfoy again. Malfoy was trying to maintain his composure, but it was clear to Harry that he was terrified. Harry looked down and took a deep breath.

“Listen Malfoy, I’m sorry I read your letter. I know it’s none of my business, but…well, if there’s ever anything I can do to help, or if you ever want to talk--”

“--why would I talk to you, Potter? I don’t need your help!”

Harry narrowed his eyes at Draco. “Suit yourself then.”

Draco sat back down on the stairs and listened to Potter’s retreating footsteps. You idiot, he scolded himself as he put his head down and ran his hands agitatedly over his slick blond hair. Here Potter had tried to help him, and as always, he let his temper and foolish pride get the best of him. He sighed and tried not to think about it. Did it really matter if Harry Potter was angry with him? They’d been sworn enemies throughout their entire magical education. They were supposed to have ill feelings towards each other. Besides, if he needed help he had Pansy and Blaise to turn to.

Over the course of the next week, Draco couldn’t stop obsessing over his father’s letter and what might happen if and when Lucius Malfoy escaped from Azkaban. He wouldn’t put it past his father to torture or even kill his only son.

By the end of the week, another letter arrived, this time from his mum. He eagerly opened the letter, expecting it to bring him comfort and reassurance. After all, his mum always had a way of making him feel better after his father had terrorized him. As Draco read the letter, however, he became increasingly scared and unnerved. This time his mother did not bring him comfort…

****
My Dragon,
Please do not worry, but I have quite some disturbing news for you. Your father has escaped Azkaban, and may be on his way to the school. He was last seen two days ago, and was rambling about killing a blood traitor, a disgrace. You are my dearest, son, but to your father you were just those two things. Be on your guard, my sweetheart.
Love,
Your Beloved Mother
****

Draco felt as though an icy fist was clenched around his heart. He looked up from reading the letter, casting a sideways glance at Pansy and Blaise. His two best friends had started acting rather odd shortly after Draco received the letter from his father. It was as if they were hiding something from him.

Draco spent the rest of the day in a fearful daze. It was impossible to concentrate on his studies when all he could think about was the likelihood of his father finding and killing him.

After his last class of the day, Draco went back to the Slytherin common room in hopes of having a word with Pansy and Blaise. More than ever, he needed someone to talk to--and he wasn’t about to go crawling back to Potter, begging for forgiveness.

Relief washed over Draco when he saw his friends, who were engaged in what looked like a serious conversation. Both Pansy and Blaise wore worried, tense facial expressions and he thought he heard Pansy say, “How are we going to tell him?” When Pansy and Blaise saw him approaching, they exchanged panicked looks with each other.

“Hey mates,” Draco tried to sound casual although he knew something fishy was going on. “I’m glad I found you. You won’t believe the letter I received from my mum today-”

“Draco,” Pansy interrupted him. She nervously shuffled her feet and shot a hesitant look at Blaise. “Draco, I don’t know how to tell you this, but…we received letters from our parents as well.”

“So?,” Draco persisted.

Blaise sighed, “What Pansy’s trying to say is that we’re not allowed to--er, be your friends anymore.”

Draco was speechless as his two friends frowned apologetically at him. The three of them stood in awkward silence until Draco found his voice again. “W-what do you mean, not allowed to be my friends? That’s ridiculous!”

“News travels fast, Draco,” Pansy spoke softly, avoiding eye contact with Draco. “You know how influential your father is in the Pureblood community. Now that he’s disinherited and disowned you…well, um…our parents don’t want us to associate with blood traitors.”

“I’m sorry, Draco,” Blaise patted Draco on the shoulder before he and Pansy walked away, leaving Draco rooted to his spot on the floor.

Draco stood alone in the common room, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Had his two best friends--his two only friends--really turned their backs on him? Who could he turn to now?