Letters that close doors

To the one who is never going to say it:

There were a hundred drafts of this letter and every one was a trap. Asking. Explaining. Handing you the map to the wound so you could look at it and leave. I'm not sending those.

Here is the truth with no request inside it. You know what you did. I know you know. We have both been calling the quiet between us weather, as if it fell on us, as if no one built it. You built it. Not loudly. You never do anything loudly.

So: the last draft, clean. I am done waiting for a sentence that begins with I'm sorry. Not to punish you. The account is closed. You do not owe me the words, and I do not owe you the audience.

If you ever mean them, you know where I am. Until then this letter sits here, finished, and I do not read it again.

Yours, in full, Draco Malfoy