You Oughta Know

    Dear Harry,

    It's been quite a while, hasn't it? I would say I miss you, but I've never been one to lie. It's been too long, Harry… Far, far too long. Have you forgotten me? I suppose so… Three years is a long time, but I can assure you I haven't forgotten you.

    Then again - now that I think of it - seven years of sleeping with you isn't easily forgotten. Three years of being apart shouldn't diminish your memory of me; times were far too good, Harry. All those long nights… you and I, in our bed, fucking each other senseless. Do you ever think of me, Harry, while you're inside of Ginny? Really, it's bad enough that you left me after seven bloody years, but the fact that you married that whore – that bloody, fucking whore – a mere three weeks afterwards? All you had to do was say you wanted out, Harry. You didn't have to rub it in my face like that.

    How are your children? I'm sure Ginny's quite the excellent mother. Two children in ten months, Harry. My, she must be amazing in bed for you to fuck her so much. Is she submissive? Does she let you tie her to the bedpost, or are you the bitch in the relationship? A fiery redhead such as herself should be the one to straddle you, to have you cum in her on her terms – she always did seem like the dominating type. Do you enjoy that, Harry?

    Afterwards, when you hold her and tell her how much you love her, how you'll hold her until you die, does she know how you spoke the exact same words to me? Does she have any idea how much I loved you?  Does she have any idea how much it killed me when you walked out, telling me I was never to see you again? You never gave me a reason, Harry. I want one.

    You were the absolute last person I've ever slept with; hell, you are the only person I've ever slept with. How would Ginny react if I told her how you and I used to go to the cinema all the time? I'm sure she'd think that was perfectly normal, because it is. However, what if I told her how I went down on you there, every single time we went? How I sucked you until you came in my mouth, in front of all those people? There was a reason we sat in the back, Harry. I'm sure you remember.

    You made a joke of me. You fucked me, told me you loved me, and then dropped me like a bad habit. What the hell did I ever do you do? Not only did I share a bed with you, I shared seven bloody years of my life with you. I gave you everything I had, I tried my fucking hardest to be perfect for you. I let you inside of me, I let you scream out my name as you came, I let you have me any way you pleased. I would have fucked you on Jupiter if it would have made you happy, but apparently I wasn't good enough. No one's ever good enough for the famous Harry Potter, are they?

    I will never forget you, nor will I ever forgive you. You ruined my life, Harry. I let you break me when you promised to put me back together, but you didn't. I'm still broken Harry, and there's no way to fix it. Every time I seek revenge on someone, I pray you'll get it tenfold. Every time someone is hurting because of me, I hope it's agony for you. I will never, ever let you live your life in peace. Every moment, whether you're awake or dreaming, I will always be with you. You will always be reminded of me, and there's absolutely nothing you can do about it. Helpless fucker.

    Now, we come down to the real reason I've written this letter. I've been sick lately – really sick. I saw Medi-Wizards, doctors, anyone I could think of, but they all told me the same bloody thing; they didn't know. About a month ago, I ran into a smart chap who ended up suggesting I see one of his own doctors. Thinking one more wouldn't hurt, I did just that, and I also subjected myself to multiple rounds of testing.

    I got tested for AIDS last week, and the results came back positive. You were my last fuck, Harry. Just thought you should know.

    I suppose the question isn't whether or not you've forgotten me – it's whether or not you'll ever forget me.

    Send Ginny and the children my love,

                                            Forever,

                                                    Draco Malfoy


    Harry set the piece of parchment down, feeling as if a large block of ice had just settled in his stomach. His eyes unfocused and he lost himself to the half-thoughts swirling around his mind, each thinking of Draco Malfoy – a man he had wished to never hear from again – and the family he had made.

    His two daughters sat across from him, each gazing at their suddenly silent father with as much intensity as two three year olds could muster. Before Harry could say a word, Ginny, his wife and love affair during his years with Draco, bustled into the dining room, reminding Harry very much of his mother-in-law.

    "Everything all right, dear?" she asked, pouring him a cup of tea before sitting down herself.

    Harry nodded numbly, forcing himself to snap out of his trance and look at his wife. One thought echoed through his mind as he shifted his gaze back and forth between his two daughters, whom he could no longer look in the eye, and wife, like a mantra that would follow him for the rest of his life.

    Welcome to the world of AIDS.