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its-ginevra · 5 years ago

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Curiosity Killed Everything

Harry almost didn’t open it.

After the war love letters flooded in, and quite frankly, he was sick of it. Part of him thought it was sweet, but the rest was annoyed. Where were the love letters before? Why wait until after? Obviously it had to do with who he was as a namesake and not personally.

But as he sat at the Gryffindor table, the ripped envelope drew his attention—almost as if the sender hadn’t bothered to care about its appearance. That and it was addressed to ‘idiot’.

Curiosity was the only reason he opened it.

‘I can’t stand you.’

That was it.

Harry frowned as he turned it over, expecting more on the back. Nothing. He re-opened the envelope, trying to see if maybe there was something else included. No, it was empty.

I can’t stand you. Nothing more.

He couldn’t help it, Harry snorted.

Someone took time out of their day to send a hate letter. One so short. It intrigued Harry more than offended him. He was sure a lot of people didn’t like him, but not many were vocal about it.

He should throw it away. What was the point of keeping it? But there was something funny about the whole situation.

Curiosity was the only reason he pocketed the letter.

———————————-

The longer he stayed at Hogwarts the more he realized Ron was right and that he shouldn’t have come back for a final year. Sure, Hermione did, but she liked schoolwork.

Without Ron by his side, Hogwarts was pretty boring.

The sound of hundreds of birds swooping in signaled mail call. A glance up brought in a new ripped envelope and his lips were already twitching.

Well… maybe not as boring as he thought.

With zero patience, Harry ripped open the envelope, barely paying attention to the owl.

‘Do you even own a hairbrush?’

Without realizing it, his hand ran through his hair absentmindedly. He scowled at the note. Of course he did. It was just that it didn’t matter how many times he combed it, his hair had a mind of its own.

He glared at the note, but yet, still didn’t throw it away.

Curiosity was to blame, probably.

—————————

Mail time was beginning to become his favourite part of the day, and Harry wasn’t sure what that said about him. His secret hater amused him.

‘Your glasses are hideous. They were too big for you at eleven and you’ve still yet to grow into them.’

‘Your pension for danger is appalling, but perhaps Karma for making me have to put up with your existence.’

‘Your not as good at magic as people think you are.’

‘Everytime you open your mouth, I lose brain cells.’

For reasons that were definitely not due to curiosity, Harry had kept all of the notes. Weeks of daily insults were kept in a safe space inside his nightstand. He wasn’t sure what he could blame that on, but whatever it was, he wasn’t going to blame himself.

—————————-

‘You look like a cross between doxy droppings and a passable excuse for a human.’

Harry had barely stopped laughing when Hermione sat next to him for breakfast for the first time in weeks.

“What’s got you in a good mood today?”

“Nothing.”

He tried to move the letter away but was too slow. Quick hands snatched it off the table.

“Harry,” Hermione began with pursed lips and an angry merging of her brows. “What is this?”

“I reckon I’ve got a secret admirer,” Harry said, not able to keep a straight face at all.

Hermione arched her brows over the top of the letter. “They think you look like doxy shit.”

“Perhaps admirer was too strong of a word.”

“Some people are so pathetic,” said Hermione as she shook her head and glared at the note. “What a waste of time.”

“Wait,” Harry said far too loudly when it looked like she was going to crumple it. “I want to keep that.”

“Keep it?” Her tone wasn’t quite flabbergasted, but it was close. “Why on Earth would you want to keep it?”

Harry shrugged as he pulled the note from her hands. “I find them charming, kind of.”

“Doxy shit,” Hermione reminded him slowly. “What is charming about that?”

It was hard to explain his thoughts, so Harry didn’t try. He wasn’t sure himself why he kept them. The letters weren’t exactly nice—okay not nice at all—but they were becoming a constant in his daily routine. Whoever sent them had strong opinions, and a lot of it came off as teasing in a way. Or at least familiar. Whoever it was, knew him, and knew him well.

They could be nicer, but the chances of that were pretty slim.

For whatever reason, he liked the notes, rudeness and all.

————————-

The only other thing that brought enjoyment to his days was Potions class. Oh, he still sucked at it, but that was part of the fun.

“Are you even trying?” Snarled Malfoy, who unfortunately was assigned as his partner for the year. “I don’t even know what this is supposed to be.”

“Erm,” Harry peered into the cauldron. “I think it’s a cheering charm.”

“You think,” deadpanned Malfoy. “A cheering charm isn’t supposed to be the consistency of clay.”

Clay. Harry raised a finger to feel it for himself but before he could his hand was slapped away.

“What are you doing?” Huffed Malfoy, eyes wide. “Whatever you made could be dangerous.”

“You do care,” Harry said as he placed a hand on his chest and batted his lashes.

Malfoy looked seconds away from hexing him, and Harry kinda wanted to push him to that point.

“Lose a limb for all I care,” Malfoy said haughtily before storming off to the supply closet. “Not as if having them did anything for you in the first place.”

Harry refused snort, not wanting to give Malfoy the satisfaction. Instead, he focussed on poking the potion. Clay was a pretty accurate descriptor. Whatever it had started out as, it was not a potion anymore.

“You think I could craft something out of this?” Asked Harry when Malfoy returned and began the potion all over again. “I reckon I’ve got some creativity somewhere inside me.”

Malfoy took a deep breath, one that made Harry think he was trying to calm down.

“You know, I truly lose brain cells whenever you speak.”

Harry froze, the familiar words causing his brain to work in overdrive before blanking completely.

No. There’s no way...

When Harry didn’t respond Malfoy looked at him curiously. “Finally, you’ve been rendered speechless. Maybe I can accomplish something today. Not that you’d know what that’s like, Merlin knows how incompetent you are.”

Well, on second thought.

The rest of the lesson passed in a blur, Harry’s mind too distracted to focus on anything else.

Was his secret hater really Malfoy?

It would make sense. Who else insulted him on a daily basis? Why not add it in other forms as well?

But why?

Why bother sending anything at all. It wasn’t like Malfoy ever passed up an opportunity to insult him. And daily? That took dedication.

Was Harry really on Malfoy’s mind like that?

———————

‘You would look a lot better in some decent robes. You have the fashion sense of an old Muggle a breath away from keeling over.’ That one was almost kind. When Harry looked toward the Slytherin table, he was surprised to see Malfoy already staring at him. They locked eyes—briefly—before Malfoy glanced away, cheeks rosy. Huh. That was new. Harry traced the note with his fingers, still unsure why he kept the stupid things. They intrigued him, but was that all that did? Another glance toward Malfoy had him unable to lie to himself. Malfoy intrigued him too, always had. Perhaps it was curiosity’s fault after all.

——————

Draco pushed his vegetables across the plate, mind focused on the pile of Charms homework that he still had to do. Flitwick didn’t have to assign that much, the prick.

It wasn’t until the normal chatter of other students talking disappeared that he realized something was wrong.

When he glanced up, Draco jerked a little at the sight of Potter standing on the other side of the table.

“You lost little Gryffindor?”

Potter rolled his eyes before extending a hand.

Draco took a shaky breath when he realized it was a note, the same size that he sent every morning. With equally shaky fingers, Draco took the parchment and flipped it over.

‘I can’t stand you either.’

There was a tiny smile on Potter’s face that didn’t match the sentiment. But Draco believed him.

“How much?” Draco asked, unable to quash the rising curiosity.

“I’m not sure,” Potter shrugged. “But I imagine we can figure out together.”

That wasn’t a good idea, but Draco’s life was a series of bad ideas.

What could one more hurt?

#Drarry #draco malfoy #harry potter #hate notes #Lmaoo

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