Letters and letters

Dear Selene,

How utterly cruel of you. How heartless. How positively vile. Two weeks—two whole weeks—without so much as a single letter, a single owl, a single word. Do you have any idea what I have suffered? I was beginning to think you had perished. Or worse—forgotten about me entirely.

My mother gasped when I informed her that you hadn't written yet. My father gave me one of his usual unimpressed stares, but I know he was secretly concerned. Even Blaise thought you might've been kidnapped by some rogue band of Hufflepuffs trying to spread their disgusting brand of optimism.

But no. It turns out, you were just ignoring me. Ignoring me, Selene! How could you? I could have died.

In fact, I almost did. I nearly collapsed in sheer despair during our first week back at school. You would have wept at the sight of me, all pale and tragic. Pansy said I was being "dramatic," but I suspect she was simply envious of my ability to suffer so poetically.

But fine. Fine. I suppose I shall forgive you—if only because I have very important news.

One: I am officially a Prefect. A Slytherin Prefect. Clearly, this was always meant to be, but still, I expect you to be appropriately impressed. My badge shines brighter than Potter's entire future.

Two: You will never believe this, but I am currently ranking just below Granger in class scores. Yes, that Granger. I am on the verge of outscoring the Golden Know-It-All herself. Do you realize what this means? I shall never hear the end of it from Snape, and yet, I can't even be upset. I have ascended.

Now, tell me everything. Have your parents been unbearable? Did you miss me? (Lie if necessary.) When are you returning so I no longer have to pine away in misery?

Waiting—suffering—for your response,

Draco Malfoy

P.S. If you dare go another two weeks without writing, I will hex something. Possibly Weasley's broomstick.

I had barely unfolded the letter when I was already rolling my eyes. Dramatic. Absolutely dramatic. Two weeks of silence and the boy was acting as if I had personally exiled him to Azkaban.

By the time I got to "I could have died," I actually had to pause, set the letter down, and laugh. This was beyond classic Draco. This was peak, pristine Malfoy dramatics, complete with the unnecessary suffering and poetic self-pity.

And the part about Pansy being jealous of his ability to suffer? Oh, please. I could just imagine her, arms crossed, glaring at him while he draped himself over a sofa in the common room, complaining about my betrayal.

But then, I reached the part about him ranking second in class, and I nearly choked on my pumpkin juice. Second. Below Granger.

No, but really—Granger must be seething.

I had to admit, I was impressed—but obviously, I couldn't tell him that. His ego was already the size of the entire Slytherin common room.

And, of course, he was a Prefect. Because of course he was. That badge was probably polished within an inch of its life by now. I bet he paraded it around the train, shoving it in people's faces like some golden trophy.

Still, I couldn't stop the stupid grin spreading across my face. I had missed him. Not that I'd say it out loud—Merlin forbid I ever let Malfoy win—but maybe, maybe, I should reply before he actually does hex Weasley's broomstick.

Though, to be fair, that would be hilarious.

Just then came in another letter.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Miss Blackthorn,

I am pleased to inform you that your academic excellence has placed you at the very top of your year. Your outstanding performance has resulted in a tied ranking with Miss Hermione Granger for the highest marks in your class. This is an exceptional achievement, and I trust you will continue to uphold this standard in your upcoming studies.

Furthermore, it is with great pleasure that I inform you of your appointment as a Slytherin Prefect for the upcoming school year. Your leadership, diligence, and commitment to excellence have not gone unnoticed, and I have every confidence that you will fulfill your duties with the utmost responsibility and integrity.

Your Prefect badge has been enclosed with this letter. Please ensure that you arrive at Hogwarts promptly on September 1st. There will be a Prefect meeting in the Prefects' Compartment aboard the Hogwarts Express.

Once again, congratulations on your achievements. I look forward to seeing the contributions you will make to both your house and the school.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

The moment the owl swooped in through the grand windows of Blackthorn Manor, my mother barely batted an eye from where she was sipping her morning tea, but my father—oh, my father lived for these letters. He set down his newspaper with an audible snap, eyes gleaming with interest as he extended a hand for the letter.

I, however, snatched it first. A Slytherin never surrendered their victory without reading it first.

As my eyes scanned the parchment, my breath caught. Top of my year. Tied with Granger, sure, but still—top. And Prefect. I had barely registered the weight of the shiny silver badge in my palm before my father actually let out a triumphant ha!

"I knew it," he declared smugly, striding toward me like he had personally taken my exams. "My daughter, top of her class, as expected. Excellent breeding always prevails."

Mother, now mildly interested, peered over my shoulder, her perfectly manicured nails grazing the parchment. "Prefect? Oh, darling, how delightful. You'll be setting an example. Though, I do hope you won't be too strict—it's so unattractive to be overbearing."

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't hide my smirk. "Yes, Mother, I'll make sure to maintain my grace while bossing people around."

Father clasped my shoulder firmly, his pride practically radiating off him. "This is only the beginning, Selene. You're going to make an impact—not just in Slytherin, but in the entire school."

Mother, however, was examining the Prefect badge in my hand with mild disdain. "The silver is charming, but wouldn't it be much more flattering if it were green? Something emerald-encrusted perhaps? I'm sure the school wouldn't mind a little modification—"

"Mother," I sighed, shaking my head, but she had already turned away, murmuring about speaking to the family jeweler.

Meanwhile, my father had taken to pacing the room. "Tied with Granger," he muttered, as if weighing the pros and cons. "Acceptable. But next year, you'll surpass her. I expect nothing less."

I sighed, but my chest swelled with pride. My parents had high expectations—but for once, I had met them.

And, knowing Draco, I had the perfect letter to send him back.

To: The Most Dramatic, Overgrown Ferret of the Malfoy Lineage,

Draco,

I must say, I am truly sorry. Two entire weeks without a letter? How are you still alive? The fact that you managed to endure such treacherous, agonizing conditions—without my words to soothe your fragile heart—is nothing short of a miracle. Surely, we must alert the Prophet. Draco Malfoy: The Boy Who Suffered (Because His Girlfriend Had a Life).

Now, onto your achievements—a Prefect, are we? Oh, I can already picture it: Malfoy strutting through the corridors like he owns the place, handing out detentions for breathing too close to his pureblood air. It's adorable that you think your authority will be taken seriously, love, but considering that I am also a Prefect, I am thrilled to inform you that any abuse of power will be met with swift and merciless consequences. Use it wisely.

And second in class? Right next to Granger? Incredible. I must say, it's almost as impressive as being tied for first place. Ah yes, I forgot to mention—I, too, have been graced with the honor of wearing the coveted silver badge of power. Prefect and top of class. Imagine if we pooled our power together, Malfoy. Hogwarts wouldn't stand a chance.

But really, congratulations. I know how much you love beating Potter in literally anything, and I'm sure knowing that he's probably at least ten places below you is doing wonders for your self-esteem.

I do, however, expect at least ten more dramatic letters about how I should have written sooner. Otherwise, how will I ever know the depths of your suffering?

Looking forward to your next masterpiece,

Selene

...................................................................

To: The Absolute Bane of My Existence (Who I Somehow Adore),

Selene,

I see you still find immense joy in mocking my suffering. I truly do not know what I expected. Here I was, on the brink of death, wasting away from neglect, while you gallivanted around Merlin-knows-where, living your best life while I—your beloved, devoted boyfriend—was left to rot in despair. But no, please, do not concern yourself. I have only aged ten years in the past two weeks, and I'm sure the trauma will fade. Eventually.

Now, onto more important matters.

You. A Prefect. Tied with Granger.

First of all, I demand a recount. There is absolutely no way you and Granger got the same score unless she cheated, and I will be looking into this further. I cannot believe that my own girlfriend has allowed such an insult to occur. The betrayal I feel right now is immeasurable.

Second, Hogwarts is doomed. Two Slytherin Prefects, both highly intelligent and undeniably better than the rest? I give it two weeks before the school falls apart entirely. Just imagine it now—the Gryffindors will cry, the Hufflepuffs will panic, and the Ravenclaws will try to argue technicalities, but it won't matter. Because we will rule.

Third, yes, I am a Prefect. And yes, I plan to use my authority wisely. Meaning, I shall be handing out detentions to Potter and Weasley at every possible opportunity. If they so much as breathe the wrong way, they're done. And don't even get me started on Longbottom—I am prepared to write him up for existing.

As for your expectation of more letters detailing my suffering, rest assured—you will be receiving them. I hope you enjoy my misery, you heartless creature.

Now, hurry up and return to Hogwarts already. If I have to endure another second of Blaise and Kenny acting like an old married couple without you here to suffer with me, I might actually lose my mind.

Still somehow in love with you,

Draco

.............................................................................

Draco and I met up at King's Cross Station, and the moment I saw him, I practically launched myself at him. He caught me with ease, his arms wrapping around my waist as I buried my face in his shoulder. Two months apart had felt like an eternity, and despite his overly dramatic letters, I knew he had missed me just as much as I had missed him.

"Finally," he muttered, pressing a quick kiss to my temple before pulling back just enough to look at me. "I was starting to think you had forgotten about me entirely, given your absolutely atrocious response time to my letters."

I rolled my eyes but couldn't help the fond smile that tugged at my lips. "Oh, please, Malfoy. You would have survived another day without me."

He scoffed. "Doubtful. My health was rapidly deteriorating, Selene."

I laughed, and just as I was about to retort, my mother cleared her throat behind us, reminding me that we weren't alone. Right. Parents. Both sets.

Draco straightened immediately, greeting my parents with his best pureblood charm, and I sighed as I turned to greet his parents, who were watching us with amused but unreadable expressions. Lucius gave a polite nod, and Narcissa... well, she looked absolutely thrilled.

"Go on, go on," my father urged. "Before the train leaves without you."

We nodded and hurried toward the train, catching our breath as we stepped onto the Hogwarts Express just in time. The corridors were already bustling with students, trunks being shoved into compartments, owls hooting indignantly at being jostled around.

Draco and I walked a few steps down the aisle, still catching our breath, our hands brushing against each other as we tried to squeeze past students.

Finally, we reached our usual compartment—and oh, did we walk in at the wrong time.

Kenny and Blaise looked up with expressions that could only be described as guilty.

Kenny, who was far too close to Blaise for a slightly romantic conversation, immediately scooted away as if she had been electrocuted. Blaise, on the other hand, gave us a lazy smirk, as if we hadn't just walked in on something highly suspicious.

Draco raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorway. "Well, well, well. And here I was thinking I was the one who needed supervision."

Kenny scowled, her cheeks slightly pink. "Oh, shut up, Malfoy."

"Oh no, please. Continue whatever you were doing," I teased, throwing myself onto the seat beside Kenny while Draco plopped down beside Blaise. "Should we leave? Give you two some privacy?"

"I hate all of you," Kenny muttered, crossing her arms, but the way she refused to meet Blaise's gaze did not go unnoticed.

Draco leaned back against the seat, clearly enjoying this far too much. "So, should we expect a wedding invitation soon?"

Blaise simply grinned, completely unbothered, while Kenny looked this close to hexing Draco into next week.

I shook my head, smiling to myself as I leaned against Draco's shoulder. It was good to be back.