Dear Draco Malfoy,
I've decided to write to you to show you the error of your ways.
Do you know what it's like? To be rejected by a society you never asked to join? But have no way out, until you've been immersed in it for so long that you can't give it up?
Do you know what it's like to be a freak in your own family? To be given strange looks by peer for the first eleven years of being?
Do you know what it's like being insulted over something of which you have no control?
I merely came here to learn, to control the magic within me. Yet my parents aren't good enough, my appearance isn't good enough.
I'm 'too smart', my hair is 'too bushy', my front teeth were 'too big', I'm 'too bossy', my blood is 'too muddy'.
Question, am I not good for anyone?
Answer, no, I'm not good for anyone nor anything!
So I guess this is goodbye for ever.
Hermione Granger.
PS do me a favour, don't forget me when I'm gone.
Later Hermione was found in the Gryffindor common room.
Laying still on the floor.
Wand and letter in hand.
Eyes clouded over.
Robes and hair splayed beneath her, like she had fallen.
It is still unknown to the public why Hermione Granger had written to Draco Malfoy of all people.
People have spread rumours, all false of course.
Hermione wanted Draco to feel the pain of guilt; for he was the reason she did it.
When he received her letter from Professor McGonagall he was as surprised as everyone else.
As it turns out Hermione's plan did work; he didn't leave his room for a week.
Even now he has nightmares of her porcelain face laying dead against the blood red carpet.
And that was twenty years ago.
It was his fault, and he knew it.