Forget-Me-Not {Harry Potter}

Twenty Six

-Heart Like Yours-

-how could a heart like yours-

-ever love a heart like mine-

The pile of Harry's letters were hidden in the top drawer of Vena's vanity.

She hadn't read them.

Instead, she had untied the letter from Hedwig's leg, and shoved it in the drawer along with half-used makeup products and almost-empty ink pots. She tried to open the first one, which had arrived a week into summer.

But when she began to break the seal, she felt the smallest hesitation. She doesn't know why she didn't want to read it. She wanted to write to Harry, was the one to suggest it in the first place, but that want to hear from him had disappeared when she held the letter in her hands.

If she opened it, then she would feel the guilt of not writing back. She couldn't write back.

Perhaps if the letter had come two days before, Vena would've written to him.

But it didn't, and a day before the letter arrived, Vena and Draco were told that they would sit in at the Death Eater meetings. The important ones.

The ones that they were originally forbidden to attend. But a day before the letter arrived, they sat at the long table for the first time. They felt the biting cold of the west wing, and Nagini slithering underneath the table.

And Vena decided that she couldn't be friends with Harry. How could she be friends with him if she sits at the same table as his enemy? Listen to the Dark Lord boast about the losses from the Order? Listen to his mocking remarks towards people that are important to Harry?

She couldn't. So, when the letter had arrived the day after her first Death Eater meeting, Vena didn't open it. She just shoved it in her drawer.

But then, five days later, another letter had been sent. A week after that, two more letters had come, both within two days of each other.

And then, three days before Draco had gotten his task of killing Dumbledore, she had received another letter from Harry. She hopes it's the last one.

The letters in her desk were mocking her. Teasing her. She wanted to know, desperately, what was in those letters.

She got out of bed, shivering at the cold air. She tip-toed to her vanity, party because she didn't want to make any noise and partly because the wooden floor was freezing. She opened the top left drawer to her vanity, wiggling it slightly so it wouldn't become stuck like it usually does.

She let out a sigh as she stared at the five letters. Opening these letters would mean that Vena couldn't live with the blissful ignorance of the unknown.

She would know what Harry wrote, and it's not like she could ignore it either. Once she opened these letters, she would see a part of Harry she has never seen before.

When a person writes in a letter, there are two directions it can go. It will either be well thought out, or it could be word vomit. And there is a distinct difference between the two.

Not just with the content on the paper, but in the shakiness of their handwriting or the way they close off a letter. A well thought out letter means that they put effort into what they were saying. They wanted everything to be perfect and direct.

A word vomit letter meant that they had so many things to tell you that they couldn't pick just one. There were so many things to say and yet not enough space.