Dear Hermione,
It seemed unreal, honestly, when I read about your engagement to Weasley in the papers. I'd always hoped, foolishly, unrealistically, that someday, some time we would meet and catch up on the five years since I last you at the War. That we'd get acquainted, like we should have. We'd have gotten along like two peas in a pod, really.
You intrigued me the moment you stepped into Hogwarts. All my life, I'd been told that Purebloods were superior to every other breed of wizards and there you came prancing along, chirpy and confident, acing each class you ever even thought of, perfection in every action of yours.
Suddenly, I wasn't so sure anymore.
What had I been fed all my life by Voldemort? That people could be judged and tossed around just because they were the first wizards in their family? That people were mere objects? That simply because they were Muggleborn, their lives were worth nothing?
You, you astounding miraculous woman, stood to defy each lie he ever taught me.
I haven't ever said it to you before, but I am really shameful for all the tormenting and ridiculing I did at Hogwarts. I never considered you to have feelings, shallow as that may make me sound, but I saw you crying on the steps at the Yule Ball, and suddenly, I felt guilty, even though I hadn't ruined your night that time. I can only imagine how many times you must have steeled your emotions and stayed strong for Potter, never reacting to my acerbity and meanness. It just makes me love you more.
...yes, I love you.
I've loved you for...everything you are. Everything I never was. Just. Kind. Loyal. Brave. Fearless. Compassionate. Nurturing. Hopeful. Memorable. You actually gave me hope, the one thing a Malfoy could not buy with all the money he had. It's too late, but thank you for being...you.
I couldn't have asked for more.
You deserve all the happiness and love that comes your way, and much more really. You know, I now realise what Weasley has. He's now the richest of all men, Hermione. He has a woman like you, and I would toss my wealth out of the window to even be graced by your smile.
We could have been something alright, we sure could have. And that will be my regret till I die. You will be always be my 'what if'.
They say you know everything, and you are the brightest witch of our age, so tell me this.
How can you love something, especially when it's not yours?
When it never can be, and isn't supposed to be?
Why does it physically hurt each tine to see Weasley being able to call you his...when all I wanted to do was become yours?
I know we were never together in the first place, but why does this feel like a breakup?
You set foot on the voyage of love, and here I drown with the ship that never sailed.
We were unlikely, no doubt. But even the unlikely has the hint of a possibility.
Take care, and be happy.
Yours, a thousand times over,
Draco Malfoy