I see a light in your eyes.

It's barely there, waiting perhaps for a reason to shine more brightly. It can't be easy for you, caught in between a childhood of darkness and the sudden onslaught of growing up and becoming a man.

I see you sitting there, alone at a crowded table, forced to listen to the friends of your youth speak words you no longer hear, believe things you no longer believe, see nothing while you see everything.

I see what you see. I used to believe all the nonsense, the words and slogans of a family who loved me and loves me still, but doesn't know me. You know me. As I know you. It's not about appearances, or words, or even all the things we've been told all our lives. It's about what we know, what we've been touched by, this evil they all talk about but have no idea of the truth.

My truth. The truth of a young girl thrust into unbearable evil, but managing to bear it after all. Your truth. The truth of a young boy, growing up arrogant only to realize the futility of it and the evil it came from. Our truth. The truth that only we know, of a loss that can never, ever be replaced, unspoken forever because of the pain of it.

I don't wonder at the dimness of your light. I have a family who loves me, even if they don't understand me. They will never stop loving me, no matter what happens, and that is a light in my life I think you've never had.

Our first night here this term, I was sitting just like you, alone at a crowded table. My brother, whom I love so much, told a story that got everyone to laugh, as stupid as it was. Knowing my brother so well, and having heard the joke already, I smirked at the response he got from the rest of his friends.

And when I looked over to you, our eyes met. It seemed like a long time, but I'm sure it was only a moment or two. You raised your eyebrows at me to ask if I knew my brother was a silly git. I smiled back and nodded; of course he is, and you knew it too. That was the beginning.

Although we never actually speak, we hold long conversations and tell each other much. The way you laugh at me as I help Luna with Transfiguration, even though I'm just as bad at it. And I look over to see your face as you struggle to leave Crabbe and Goyle behind just to have a quiet moment to yourself.

I wonder, sometimes, what we would say to one another if we actually talked. Would we speak of a mutual dislike of shallow people? Would I tell you how handsome I think you are? Would you kiss me so we could share our truth, just once?

We only have a short time now. Oh, I'll be back next term, Head Girl already my determined role. But you'll be gone, off to a world where the truth is secondary to power, light is at war with darkness, and your eyes won't be there for me to speak to.

I miss you already. I doubt an owl from me would be welcome, and I'll never look for one from you. But I'll try to remember everything we've said and not said, hoping beyond hope that come what may, your light will remain. In the end, that's the only truth - that our light must shine somehow.

We'll meet again, of that I'm sure. Will we talk? Will we smile? Is there a chance that a grown-up me will still love a grown-up you? It's only a matter of time, and we'll know. Meanwhile, I'll be only half a soul, waiting for you, the other half, until one day our truth will be the same again.

One day.