epilogue

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Dear Harry,

Two months and twenty-one days have past, my love, and not one day had gone by without you being constantly on my mind. It's summer now. Blaise, Pansy, and I are spending it in the Burrow with the Weasleys, and god they're a whole chaotic mess, but with pure hearts and welcoming souls, of course. Once hearing the devastating news, it was as if everything had crumbled down for them, especially Ron and Hermione... Mrs. Weasley too, she saw you as a son, and still does.
All of them consider you family, Harry. You're utterly missed by each one of us.
However, with time, we had to learn to accept the fact that you'll always be with us, perhaps not in flesh and bone, but that's okay.

Okay now, enough sad talk. You'll never guess where I'm sitting right now as I write this.
I built a treehouse!
It's not amazing, I would say mediocre, but hey, it's literally the place I head out to every single night because it's one of the dear things that remind me of you. I would gaze at the stars, recalling how we did just that, and imagine you right beside me, darling.

You know, I've had multiple dreams about you. I could actually hear you laugh, and I saw your precious smile again.
We cuddled.
We kissed.
I could feel your skin, it was all so unbelievably realistic.
And sometimes, I would say that I hate those dreams, because you'd left, and I'm trying my best to move on, love.
But honestly, that's the only way I'll ever be able to experience those moments with you again, so I don't mind them.

I don't think I'll ever find someone else quite like you. I see everyone else's imperfections, but with you, I saw none. No other pair of lips will compare to your soft and gentle ones. I'll never look into someone else's eyes and not think about the way your green ones lit up every time you talked about something you loved.
I cannot love anyone else the way I love you, Harry James Potter.

It may not be in this lifetime, the next, or even the one after that, but our paths will cross once more, sweetheart.

Love, Draco.

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