分卷阅读10（2 / 2）

He shook his head and turned the page, finding a piece of parchment with the same slanted script swirling across it.

Potter.

I’ve started writing letters I can never send. How stupid is that? I wanted to ask if you felt like the whole rivalry thing was really less about hating each other and more about not knowing what to do with how much we if that whole thing I’ve read about you and the Weaslette is true?

Potter,

You’re really sulking about over

Potter,

It’s really pathetic that you are wasting your physical prime apparently pining over some dead

Potter.

I miss you, too.

Harry slammed the book shut. This was some cruel joke. He couldn’t imagine why McGonagall would go through such lengths to play out some long con on him, but he would definitely be having words with her, and most likely resigning. That note had clearly been written so he would think…It was clear they were meant to be written by…He couldn’t even bring himself to think it. His eyes stung with tears.

“Stop it, stop, you’re being pathetic,” he told himself, rubbing at his eyes.

The cat ventured out of the bedroom, meowing at him. Harry stopped to look at her, then was made aware of a distant clicking noise coming from the entrance. He hurriedly ducked under the desk, pulling his cloak tight around him.

He held his breath.

A tall, cloaked and hooded figure of about six feet entered the room, water dripping from the rim of their hood.

“It’s absolutely pissing down,” they said, as the cat hopped up onto the table next to them. “I’m just back for dinner, I’ll be going back out later. Feeling a bit restless.” they continued, reaching out to scratch the cat’s head. They then reached up to pull back their hood. Harry had to bite his hand to keep from yelping.

It couldn’t be. It absolutely could not be. But it was. Right in front of him, as plain as day, was Draco Malfoy. He was taller than he had been, and broader in the shoulders. His skin was incredibly pale, but not sickly, more porcelain-like, his cheeks a high pink with exertion. His hair was the same white blonde it had always been, but he was wearing it a little longer and not quite as quaffed as he had in school. It fell in his face as he unfastened his cloak, and he tucked it behind his ear, where it remained for all of one second before promptly falling again. Back in school, Malfoy hadn’t worn Muggle clothes much, but now he wore a pair of blue jeans, a grey sweater, and a pair of leather work boots that looked incredibly out of place on him, but somehow still managed to look put together in such an overwhelmingly Draco Malfoy way.

The cat meowed.

“I hardly think there’s a chance of anyone seeing me with the rains like this,” Draco replied, as though the cat had spoken. His voice. Harry hadn’t realized how much he had missed it until he heard it. It was still the same slow, drawl that had gotten Harry’s blood to a boiling point for all those years, but there was something different about it. All it’s sharp edges had melted away, and now it was something soft and welcoming.