Characters: Harry, Draco Summary: Harry finally asks for answers.
Harry threw the quill down and stared at the blank parchment until the surface began to smoke from the unconscious energy he was pouring into it. The silence from both Oliver and Faelan had been deafening, and Harry had spent the last week mulling over the many conversations he'd had on the topic of his love life. All he'd been able to decide is that he was talking about it entirely too much, especially for as little as had happened, and that Draco's voice was more firmly entrenched in his mind than Harry had ever suspected.
After spending months as a being of pure energy, Harry had lost the immediate grief, pain and confusion that had crippled him after Draco left him. It was clear now, though, that Harry hadn't completely let the other man go yet, if Draco could still be commenting on Harry's wardrobe and making snide remarks in his head.
He tapped the parchment with his finger, trying to find the words to begin. If he asked his questions, made this simple contact with his former lover, maybe Harry could get back whatever it was that he lost when Draco abandoned him that night.
Come on, man, pick up the quill and write! In a flash, he put tip to parchment and let whatever he was thinking flow out with the ink.
Draco,
I need to know why. Not about the bond or the sex, that was obvious enough, but the rest-
And don't pull out the Slytherin double-speak this time. Just say it straight. I think I deserve that much by now.