FIC: Sincerely

So, my LJ is fixed and my story as been fixed.  Here is something I am rather proud of.

Thank you to Rurounihime for helping me title this fic.  And for all her help and feedback on the fic.  This was also her idea, sorta.  She advised me a while back to do a fic in sections of 100 word drabbles.  And so I did.  And here it is.

I love comments and I am a fan of constructive crticism, so feel free to say what you don't like.  Ru already has dibs on the suddenness of the last section though.

Sincerely

By: Melanie M.

Disclaimer: Not mine.  Not paid.

Rating: R

Summary: Harry begins to receive letters form a mysterious source.  A fic done in 100 word Drabbles.

Thanks to Rurounihime for all her help and inspiration with this story.

                Sincerely

Harry,

Some days, I look into your eyes and simply see all of your unspoken thoughts, and unanswered wishes spilling into the air.  I can spend days focusing on your hands, finding every muscle you use for writing, and those you use for flying.  Yes, some days I am content to just watch you, with such innocent thoughts floating within my head.  But other days, days like today, I want to grab you by your shoulders and shag you hard, right here on the ground, until you scream.  Today, I want to be the reason you can’t walk tomorrow.

                                                                     Sincerely,              

.   .   .   .                

~*~*~*~*~

 Harry’s curiosity was eating him alive.  The note had come to him three days ago.  He had read it so often that its creases had creases and its durability had vanished under his fingers.

After realizing that he was torturing himself, Harry placed the paper under his pillow.  In Potions, his hands itched for it.  In Charms, his mind analyzed it.  In the halls, his body reacted to it.

In an attempt to ignore it, Harry went to bed early, note under his pillow.  But rather than his usual tones of black and white, his dreams were silver and gold.

 ~*~*~*~*~

 Harry,

Do you know that when you’re frustrated, you trace patterns across the back of your neck? Some days you leave marks, too, from the ink on your hands.  If you would let me, I would trace those patterns for you.  With my tongue. 

I can imagine you, reading this, blushing your House colors.  I love watching you blush.  And I’ve been watching you for the longest time, Harry.  Most of all, I love watching you fly.  The way you glide across the pitch is nothing short of sensual.  And, at tomorrow’s Quidditch match, I will be watching you.

Sincerely,     

.  .  .  .     
 

~*~*~*~*~

 During the game, Harry was thinking about the second note.  Someone was watching him and the thought was doing powerful things to his body. And Malfoy was not helping matters.  Whenever he caught Harry looking, Malfoy would lick the corner of his lips, smirk, his mouth wide open, and fix Harry with the most piercing and haughty gaze.

Harry could not even figure out when it happened.  One moment he had been thinking about the note, and the next he saw Malfoy take off across the field.  Too late, Harry sped after him.  But Malfoy had already caught the Snitch.

 ~*~*~*~*~

 Harry,

 I saw you flying as I left class.  Your hair was tousled and your cheeks were flushed a gorgeous red; your shirt was half open and your tie was hanging around your neck loosely.  It looked like someone had just shagged you senseless.  If you gave me half a chance, I would.  I would shag you so spectacularly that you would be flying without a broomstick.  Well…

You walked past me in the hall as you headed back to your room to shower.  You smelled thoroughly sexed, too.  I skipped class and went straight to my room. Again.

 
                                                        Sincerely,

            .  .  .  .                               

~*~*~*~*~

 The truth lay heavy in his stomach—he had lost to Slytherin—no, to Malfoy!  How he had come to be so weak as to be so affected by a letter, he did not know.  And yet—late at night, when the room was still, he would read the letter, context and all—his body reacting strongly to the unspoken promise of its last line.

Each night, after practices that went too long, he would take himself in hand, and mentally list people who could have sent the letters, and waited.  Once again his life had been reduced to waiting. 

 ~*~*~*~*~

 Harry,

 I wonder, do you look for me in the hallways or dream about me at night?  Do you think of me in the darkness of your own bed?  I think about you when I am lying with curtains drawn around me.  I cannot help myself from thinking of you, your muscular body and beautiful eyes.

But it is not your eyes that hold my attention on most days; it is your hands.  What would you do with your hands if given the chance?  I know what I would do with mine.  Perhaps you should start looking for me.

                                         Sincerely

                                                .  .  .  .

~*~*~*~*~

 Harry was looking.  He was watching things with a fine tooth comb in hand.  In his head he mulled over just what he would do if it turned out to be someone close.  He was apprehensive.  What if it was Hermione, or Ron?  Something romantic could ruin their dynamic friendship.  Harry tried not to worry, though—he doubted that, even if it was them, he would start a relationship.

The more he thought about the notes, the worse he felt.  He was in the hospital wing by Tuesday with a black eye, a bloody lip, and a bruised Draco Malfoy.

 ~*~*~*~*~

 Harry,

 I have seen you looking for me in the halls.  You will have to look a little harder than that, though.  You looked me straight in the eyes and I swore that I fell in love with you all over again.

I have always known you were clever, for you discarded the thought of it being one of your best friends.  I would hate for my letters—my declarations of lust—to lead you to the wrong person.  Such a thing would destroy me, but I am yet too shy to come forward myself. Please, just look harder.

                                                 Sincerely,

                                                    .  .  .  .

~*~*~*~*~

Harry hung his hope on the notion of “soon.”  Soon is when he saw the mystery being resolved. Soon is when he saw his life returning to normal.  Soon is when he would no longer be waiting. 

The weekend brought another Quidditch match—Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw.  As Harry flew, he saw Draco Malfoy regarding him with an amused smirk.  Harry was so angered by the mocking look that he almost flung himself off his broom at the other boy, the match be damned.  After the easy win, Harry found another letter on his bed.  Soon had come at long last.

 ~*~*~*~*~

 Harry,

 I was watching you today when I made this decision.  You were flying, and I thought, what if someone else gets to him first?  So I made a decision.  My letters are spelled to return to me tomorrow at midnight, where so ever I am.  Every door will open itself for them as they fly to me.  If you follow them you will find me.  I will be waiting for you, because I cannot go one more day without you.  I need you, Harry, and I intend to persuade you to let me have you.  I love you.

 
                                                    Sincerely,

                                                    .  .  .  .

~*~*~*~*~

 The clock struck and the letters lurched from Harry’s hands.  He raced after them, wand lit. 

His eyes had betrayed him it seemed; Draco Malfoy was holding the letters now.  Harry’s mind spun with arousal and wonder as Draco kissed him.  The idea that the feud would be over—that their mini-war would end this way—was enough to make him agree.

But then.  As he came, Harry gasped out, “...the letters…”

And Malfoy grinned as he moved inside Harry, “…were all lies.”  And then his orgasm rendered him silent. 

Malfoy grinned maliciously as he left and Harry’s world shattered.

 ~*~*~*~*~

 Dear Draco,

 

It seems you have finally bested me at something.  I fell for your trap out of sheer loneliness.  But now I can see it more clearly than ever.  You are useless.  You are not a threat to me.  All you can do is manipulate people’s minds and bodies, which requires practice but not skill. 

You keep climbing that ladder, Draco.  Fuck your way to the top.  As for me, I shall rely on my skill and my friends to get where I need to go.

 
  Sincerely,

                                                        Harry Potter

P.S. Just remember, you got on your knees for me.

~fini~