Attn: This belongs to JK Rowling. I own nothing except plot bunnies. This one shot was inspired by Epiphany by Staind.

After the trial Draco Malfoy sat in his flat feeling restless. He was lost. Revelations about how he truly felt versus the beliefs he was raised with were becoming unavoidable in his mind. They had been for quite some time, however the worry over his survival in the war thwarted any coming to terms with these voices. Until now. A year's house arrest. That gave him plently of time to dwell on his past fuck ups. He knew however he wanted to fix things. He wasn't quite sure if he was motivated by guilt, or wanting to chage, wanting to clear the family name. Draco just felt it was time. He didn't know what to do however.

As he lit up the joint and opened the window to his flat he watched the stars while he slowly got stoned. He wanted to fix things. But how? Especially with house arrest? The feeling of intense anxiety was replaced and Draco was able to organize his thoughts instead of the frenzied rush of circling thoughts. Anxiety was one of the many repercussions of the war. It dawned on him that help would be needed.

He picked up the ashtray and supplies to write a letter. Where to begin? Draco knew who he needed to ask help from, but how? Mixed feelings bubbled below the surface, shite he wasn't quite ready to deal with. Merlin, he needed another joint for this shite.

Draco took a long drag and put the quill to the parchment. Soon crumbled up balls of parchment littered the floor around him. Nothing seemed right. How do you ask for help from the one person you treated like scum? Worse than scum, if truth be told.

Miss Granger,

This is Draco Malfoy, please do not throw this away. Words cannot convey my sincere apologies over our troubled past. However this is not an apology letter. I will get to that at a time when I feel I can adequately put into words and actions the sincerity of my regrets of actions taken against you and your friends.

I am writing to ask, quite simply for help. I want to help repair the damage I have helped inflict on the wizarding world. However I do not have the finances to donate as I could have before. As for the matter of me being under house arrest, it does present another problem. I don't want to wait a year before doing what I can to help.

You have connections and an better understanding of where I may be of use, and who would actually accept whatever I may have to offer.

I know that the Malfoy name has fallen from grace and good standing. But it was deserved. I have come to the conclusions that I want things to be different for myself.

With deepest respect,

Draco Malfoy

That's the best draft he could put together. He felt it didn't bare everything, just enough to pique her curiousity into getting what he wanted. He wanted to get her help, yet he was still enough of a Slytherin to realize he wouldn't get it without inticing her. He sealed the letter with a charm and attached it to his owl before he could loose his nerve.

He lit up his third and last joint for the night, not usually smoking so much in one evening, normally a joint before bed. Draco preferred it to sleeping draughts. The consquences of addiction to pot were much more prefferd to accidently offing himself from too much potion. He checked the lock on his door and opened a window so the smell wouldn't linger. He walked around the flat before returning to his bedroom, readying himself to turn in.

The morning light woke him and he went to his kitchen to prepare his breakfast. No houseelves, while on house arrest, he had sent them to Hogwarts for the year. Couldn't think of what else to do with 12 houseelves, the Manor had been taken by the Ministry. Not that he wanted it anyway. His owl sat regally upon his perch, and a reply he noticed was sitting on his table. Oh Merlin, he agonized. Tea first, letter second.

He ate his breakfast and drank his tea and decided that he was ready to open the letter. He was steeling his nerves for rejection. He certainly couldn't blame her. How he treated her in the past, how foolish he was. Blood purity. Utter rubbish. He opened the seal and took a breath.

Malfoy,

I trust since your seeking out my help it wouldn't be imprudent to invite myself over for afternoon tea at one o'clock to discuss your desire to help?

Owl me back if you are not available at that time. I will floo to your flat.

Consider me intrigued,

H. Granger.

Well, that was unexpected, he thought, pleased. He glanced at the clock. 7:42. There was time to prepare.

That's all folks! I do not smoke pot and never have so forgive me if I didn't describe it well.