'Dear Hermione,
Sorry again for using your name without your permission. Since I was taken out of school a few months ago, my eyes have been opened far wider than I would wish upon anybody. The petty little game of war that was my world was ripped away and the knowledge I always dreamed and wished for was stuffed in its place. Before I left I tried to tell myself that this is what I wanted. So much so, that I went quietly and without fuss. How I want to change it so I kicked and screamed and fought until someone noticed and stopped it. How I want schoolwork and insults to be my world again. But it is not how life goes. We must grow knowledgeable of the world with its almighty flaws, or it is no world at all. It is true after all, only the good die young. I feel far too old already.
Tomorrow is my death day, whether I live or die. I am to receive the dark mark. It is what I've been trained for, what I wanted for so long. Or what I thought I wanted. All I did want was my father to be proud, for him to respect me. But he is a madman following a madman. Now I realise that what I truly want is forgiveness, believe it or not, from you. I remember the day I went. I was marched through the halls of our school by my father and his cronies, my luggage bobbing along behind. Everyone carried on, but you stopped. You of all people stopped, and looked. You seemed almost sympathetic. Almost although I was your bully, you didn't want me to go, not to where I was going to. Where I am. I sneered at you, but you smelled so good when I passed you, I wanted to stay there forever. But now I must make my decision. Tomorrow I die when I tell my true feelings, or I survive. As I said, tomorrow is my death day. How many axe strikes will it take?
Hermione, you're beautiful, your mind amazes me, I am generally in awe of you. I loved you since that day you punched me in the face. You terrified me that day. I am truly sorry this is the end.
Goodbye.
Draco Malfoy.'
Tying up the roll of parchment with a ribbon, Draco put it with the many others. Casting a Tempus he saw it was almost 11pm. Looking at his owl he asked her opinion, 'What do you think, eh, Avada? Should I send them?' Nodding sagely she stuck her leg out at the mound of rolled parchment. 'I's not going to make a difference Ava, but okay.' Tying the rolls up, he spelled them to stay together during their journey. 'Here you go girl, can you manage all that?' Winding the dark ribbon around her leg, he set her on the windowsill and watched as his last friend left him.
Pulling a chair closer to the window, he poured himself a glass of phoenix scotch and sat, watching the night and eventual day. His old Slytherin scarf wound 'round his neck. Waiting.
._.
A.N. "How many axe strikes will it take?" is a paraquote from the book Raven Queen, by Pauline Francis, which is an amazing book that I would reccomend