Potter,
don’tbedaft.
Wehadtoomuchtodrink.
Itdoesn’tmeananything.
DM
Okay.
CanIcomebytoday?
Dracolookedattheletter,feelingtorn.OfcoursehewantedPottertocomeby,butapartofhimwasstillrattledbytheeventsofthenightbefore.Theneedforsomespacewasgrowingbigger.Butfromthelooksofit,Potterhadnointentionofgivinghimspace.Itwasthemostendearinganddreadfulthingever.Dracocouldn’tconcentrate,couldn’tthinkaboutanythingelsebutPotteralready.Heneededsometimetothink.But…notseeingPotterwasmakinghisheartache.
Howabouttomorrow?
IttookPotternotimetosendhisanswer.
Alright.
Notakebacks!
Dracosnorted.Sometimes,Potteractedlikeaneasilyexcitablepuppy.Itwaskindofcute.
Justashewasabouttogodownstairstohavesomebreakfast,anotherowllandedonhisdesk.
“Okay,nowyou’reoverdoingit,”Dracomuttered,untyingtheletterfromtheowl’sfoot.Heunfoldeditandfrowned.Thiswasn’tPotter’shandwriting…
DearDraco,
IjustranintoStaceyagain.
There’ssomethingI’dliketodiscusswithyou.
Letmeknowwhenyou’refreetomeet.
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