I have lived my entire life hearing snatches of conversation, or hearing reactions to newspaper articles, or even seeing letters lying around my father’s study. The ones I speak of are not those of my father’s old Death Eater activities, which I know he still is involved in, even though I am not allowed to be, nor do I want to. No, I speak of my father’s hatred of Harry Potter. While you probably think, Yes, that does have to do with Death Eaters, it actually doesn’t. My father is a Death Eater because if he leaves he’ll be killed; he hates Harry Potter because of reasons I’ll never understand.

My mother says that Father’s being stupid, and that their rivalry is purely caused by Slytherin versus Gryffindor and Potter being an arse. “Nothing serious, Christopher,� she tells me between sips of ice wine. “But why do you have such an interest all of a sudden?�

Ah, yes. The reason why I suddenly care about my father’s childhood rivalry with Harry Potter. The reason why, after six years at Hogwarts, I worry that it does have something to do with Death Eater plans and my father isn’t just an idiot. The reason why, the summer before my seventh and final year, I sit indoors interrogating my mother about Father’s exploitations during his school years.

The reason is very smart and pretty. She has soft brown eyes, long red hair, perfect pale skin, and an adorable tinkling laugh. All of her professors agree that she’s got her parents talent at Defense Against the Dark Arts and Transfiguration, but she can’t get Herbology and if she put more effort into Potions, she could be the best. Despite both her parents playing, she won’t set foot on the Quidditch pitch except to watch a match. Last year (her fifth, my sixth) she was named a Prefect, to both her parents’ surprise, and she revels in the authority it gives her. On more than one occasion, I’ve overheard her complain bitterly that some of her cousins compare her to Uncle Percy, whoever that is, and that she’d rather be like Gran Lily.

Her greatest flaw is her greatest strength. She is a perfectionist like the best of them; if she finds something wrong, she fixes it. Unfortunately, whenever it comes to something about herself that she doesn’t like (even if it doesn’t exist), she becomes very bitter and upset. It’s a great trait during Arithmancy – she’s so good that she’s in my class – but she’s so critical of herself, it sometimes worries me.

The reason why I wonder and worry is named Eleanor Victoria Potter. She has a twin sister, about twenty cousins (and counting), and three younger siblings. Her twin sister is named Elizabeth Catherine, and everyone calls her Lizzie, except for Ellie. Ellie calls Lizzie “Ellie Cathy�, and Lizzie calls Ellie “Ellie Vicky.� No one really understands it, although I’ve overheard a cousin of theirs say something about “a twin thing.�

Unfortunately, Ellie isn’t responding to a message I sent via her cousin and best friend Sarah.

* * *

Dearest Eleanor Victoria,

In case you don’t remember, I have decided that we will be a couple, if purely because you are good looking and I am good looking. We’d make a lovely couple, don’t you agree? But that is not the only reason, my dear Ellie. No, I happen to have a long list of why we are destined to be together, and the top three are:

3. You are entirely too witty to be without me.
2. If need be, I can help you with Herbology and you can tell me all about your Prefect duties.
1. You are entirely too critical of yourself for your own good. If you are with me, you can be critical of me.

Love,
Christopher Malfoy

* * *

For as long as I can remember, my father has been muttering under his breath. Sometimes it’s about the Ministry, sometimes it’s about his publisher, and occasionally he mixes it up by mumbling about Draco Malfoy. Up until I went to Hogwarts, I had no idea who Draco Malfoy was, except for, as my dad said, “a very bad man.� My twin sister, Ellie Cathy, and I shared conspiracy theories and took turns trying to extract information from our parents, various aunts and uncles, cousins, and grandparents. After a little bit, though, it became obvious that no one was going to tell us anything.

When we went to Hogwarts, we quickly had a clue to Draco Malfoy’s identity. His son, whom everyone calls Chris, was a Slytherin a year above us, and from his many calculating looks, it soon became clear that he had heard of us, too. Surprisingly, Ellie Cathy was in Hufflepuff while I was in Gryffindor, although it quickly became a good thing. The Hufflepuffs knew all about Christopher, and all about the Malfoy-Potter rivalry that had existed during their Hogwarts days. We never told Dad that we knew, simply that “Malfoy’s son� was a second year. Neither I nor Ellie Cathy ever talked to Chris, although in my second year, I was allowed to take Arithmancy (Aunt Hermione got me interested and talked to my professors herself), so we were in the same class.

In my fourth year, I began to think of Chris. At first it was simply, “Did he get that problem right?� and, “What does Chris think of this exam?� But by the end of the year, it became, “Is he going to Hogsmede?� and, “What does he think about the Potters?� Ellie Cathy told me that I was being idiotic, so I obviously didn’t tell her when I realised that I fancied him in my fifth year.

I never thought he’d feel the same way. But I see his steel gray eyes, and perfect black hair, and hear what other girls say about him, and know he won’t. He’s too sarcastic, intelligent, and popular to even consider me that way. Sarah, my cousin and best friend, says that I’m being an idiot. “You’re too critical of yourself!� she tells me. “He does fancy you!�

Obviously I don’t believe her. Why would he like me? My hair is bright orange, I talk too fast, my Herbology OWL grade was a D, and I can’t make friends. My only friends are related to me, while Chris is the most popular boy in Hogwarts, and even the Gryffindors respect, if not like, him.

“Then why,� Sarah asks me, “Did he write you?�

* * *

Dear Christopher Malfoy,

Unfortunately for your rather large ego, I do not recall being informed that we should be a couple. Perhaps the invitation was lost in the mail? I’m not sure, but I do know that you are arrogant, and clearly are just asking me – or, as you prefer, informing me – to prove that you can get anyone. Well, I’m sorry, but I’m not your average Hufflepuff.

Unless you mistook me for my sister, Lizzie? We are twins, after all, although fraternal.

Oh, and before I forget, I must address your “top three reasons.�

3. I’ve survived without you so far, haven’t I?
2. As exhilarating as that sounds, I will no longer be taking Herbology, although boring you to tears with the tale of my duties does sound entertaining.
1. I’d love to be critical of you. You’re arrogant, you’re slightly obnoxious, you’re a pretty boy, and your Potions skills are seriously lacking. However, I am not critical of myself. I merely know my flaws.

Ellie

* * *

“Dear Salazar,� I mutter under my breath, momentarily panicked. Luckily I am in my room, so no one will hear my rant. “She thinks I’m arrogant, obnoxious, bad at Potions and a pretty boy.� I can’t help but chuckle a little, and it is difficult not to admire her spunk.

But as I realise what the beginning of the letter says, I instantly throw myself around my room, looking everywhere. “I must have forgotten to send it!� I accuse myself angrily, looking for the letter that I sent Sarah. If Ellie doesn’t know, then I must not have sent the letter to Sarah. It’s as simple as that.

After half an hour of frustrated searching and four fruitless Summoning Charms, I reduce myself to the truth that I did send the letter, and begin to compose one to Ellie to hopefully procure an explanation.

* * *

Dearest Ellie,

But I told Sarah to pass along the message. Perhaps she has not seen you, or has forgotten what I asked her to do.

In regards to your claim that I am arrogant: I am no such thing! I was merely trying to be witty, make you smile, make you laugh (Merlin how I love your laugh), and see what you had thought of my invitation. But if you really think or thought that I was joking, I’ll do my best to convince you otherwise.

So maybe we’ve never spoken. So maybe our fathers hate each other for reasons I’ll never understand. I don’t care. Ellie, just give me one date. Say, at Fortescue’s in Diagon Alley on Sunday at one o’clock? I’ll make it worth your while, I promise.

Chris

* * *

After reading Chris’ latest letter, I can’t help but feel my heart flutter. “ByeMumgoingtoAuntHermione’sandUncleRon’s!� I call as I step into the fireplace with a handful of Floo powder.

Once at my aunt and uncle’s house, I yell for my best friend and cousin. “SARAH WEASLEY! EXPLAIN YOURSELF!� The red headed, brown eyed, freckled face of Sarah emerges around the doorframe, and not for the first time, I reflect at how we are more like twins than Ellie Cathy and I are.

An hour later I arrive back home, laden with an explanation, three books for various members of my family, and a smile on my face. After delivering the books to their recipients, I corner Mum in her and Dad’s room.

* * *

Chris,

I’ll meet you tomorrow at Fortescue’s, although my cousin Andrew will be standing watch. He’s in Auror training, and will be on hand in case you or your father tries anything funny.

Oh, and I talked to Sarah. She said that she told you that she would not pass along the message because I would not believe her. Which is true, I wouldn’t believe her.

Ellie

P.S. It was the only way Mum would let me go without telling Dad or my various uncles who hate your father; they’d come and kill you. Or at least seriously injure you, be sure of that.

* * *

Upon receiving Ellie’s letter, it is impossible for me to feel anything but excitement. The weight that previously rested on my chest is lifted, and I immediately run down to the patio to let my mother know that I’ll be going out tomorrow.

The fact that she cares about my well being is enough to warm me to my bones, but the added fact that she we have a date tomorrow just about sends me over the edge. I’ve waited years for this, and finally, finally, I have it.

* * *

Ellie,

I appreciate the sentiment of not sending your father and various uncles after me. I’ll see you tomorrow at one o’clock.

Ah, yes, now I remember Sarah telling me that. I thought she was joking.

Christopher


Christopher,

See you this afternoon. I’ll meet you in the Leaky Cauldron at the bar at one so we can walk over together.

Ellie.